Love's Last Chance (2 page)

“I can’t forget you. I’ve tried.”

“Try a little harder. Can’t Elsa help you
forget? You’re going to be married to her…soon, too, aren’t you?”
Dorrie could sense the color creeping up her neck as her anger was
fueled by the hurt still remaining from their break-up.

“Elsa’s star is rising. She’ll have a good
career, if she doesn’t make any stupid mistakes. A wife is good for
a few years. But a mistress is good forever.” He smirked, his eyes
filled with lust. His perfect lips and handsome face easily seduced
women.
Not me. Not this time.

Dorrie knew she wouldn’t be taken in easily
by Gunther a second time.
I’m immune to his charm, aren’t
I?

“Get yourself another girl.” Recognizing his
look when he was in the mood for sex, she turned away from him to
break the spell.
Those hypnotic, snake-like eyes will have me
agreeing.

“Bunny…you’re so soft and sweet, like a tiny
rabbit.”

“Shut up, Gunther. That stuff doesn’t work
on me anymore.” After he left her, she had heard rumors of his
cheating while they were engaged. His double betrayal had hardened
her heart.

It was as if she had thrown a pail of cold
water over him. His eyes turned from coaxing to cold, glittering
with a mixture of passion and anger. “You’ll regret this. Trust
me.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve gotten along without
you fine, so far.”

“You call where you live and the meager
existence you eke out ‘fine’?” He released a mirthless laugh.

“I do okay. I’m independent.”

“But now you work for me. You wouldn’t want
to get fired, would you?”

Fear spiked through Dorrie’s chest for a
moment until she got her bearings. “You’re not the only producer.
You can’t fire me without a reason. I have a contract, and you’d
have to have the other producers go along.”

“What makes you think I can’t?”

“Because they know all about your little
personal vendettas. And besides, getting rid of the choreographer
in the middle of a film can cost a fortune.” She smiled.
I’m
learning to speak his language—dollars and cents.

The nasty grin fell off his face. His façade
crumbled. “Don’t push me, Dorrie.”

“I know you went to bat for me, Gunther.”
She rested her hand on his forearm. “And I’m grateful. You and I
were great once. Now, we’ve both moved on. Please let it go…let me
go.”

He closed his fingers over her hand as his
eyes made contact with hers. “Can you do the job?”

“You hired me, but don’t know if I can do
it?”

“Figured if you couldn’t, we’d fire you and
find someone else. I wanted to give you a chance. Knowing you’re
sweating through those classes every day is painful.”

“Save your tears. I enjoy teaching and have
made some friends. I’m good at what I do.”

“Can you choreograph
Hustle and
Dance?”

“Of course. I’ve been studying the show,
been to see it at least twenty times already. I’m prepared. You
won’t be sorry you hired me.”

“I was hoping that the apartment would be
part of the deal.”

“Guess you were wrong.”

He let go of her hand, allowing her to move
away from him.

The limousine stopped in front of her
rundown building, promoted as
historic
, on Hollywood
Boulevard, and Dorrie hopped out. The driver took her bags from the
trunk as Gunther slowly eased from the vehicle. He bent down to
kiss her.

“Good luck, Dorrie. Make it a
knock-out.”

“You won’t be sorry you hired me.” She
hugged him briefly, then picked up her luggage and walked to her
front door. As the car pulled away, Dorrie turned to watch. A tiny
sting of regret shot through her heart.
Oh, the luxurious life
of Mrs. Gunther Quill.
She sighed and went inside.
And his
endless infidelities that go with it.
She smiled briefly as she
lugged her bags up to the second floor and put her key in the
lock.

Thankful her roommates were out so she could
avoid conversation, Dorrie unpacked quickly and opened her laptop.
She planned a trip to New York for three weeks to shoot a dance
scene in Central Park. She’d be taking a few days’ vacation time
there as well. As she read her email, she prayed she’d find the
answers to her questions about the three men she’d left behind five
years ago.

She couldn’t shake the memories of these
guys, wondering if she had had one more day with each of them,
would it have made the difference?
Would I now be happily
married to one of them, instead of miserably alone in L.A.? Hope
I’ll find out on this trip back to New York. Love, this is your
last chance.

A smile spread across her face. There it
was—a reply from her old friend, Drake Cunningham.

Got the info you wanted. First, Archer
Canfield is still with Moonlight Books. Moved to New York from
Canada. He’s now senior vice president. Second one was easy. We see
Rick Tarlock at parties. He’s here and still single. No surprise.
Third, easiest of all. Yes, Johnny Flanagan is still here. Now he’s
John, though. Still single, also no surprise. Yes, he’ll be at the
Fire Island reunion weekend. Do you want me to tell him you’re
coming, or is it a surprise? I’ll meet you at the baggage claim.
Give me your flight info.

Drake

Thanks a mil, Drake. This is awesome. So
appreciate it. Please don’t tell Johnny, let it be a surprise. Will
send flight info next week. Love to Chrissy.

Dorrie

Good ole Drake. Never one to waste words.
Can’t wait to see him, Chrissy, and the guys.
A tingle of
anticipation mixed with trepidation shot through her.
What if
they don’t remember…don’t want to see me? What if it all goes bad?
Then I guess I made the right decision to leave them behind.
She sighed.
This isn’t about ending up with one of them, is
it?

Before she could answer her own question,
Serena burst through the door.

“I got an audition! I got an audition!” She
hollered, waving a bottle of champagne.

Dorrie lost herself in her roommate’s good
news. The two women toasted to Serena’s new opportunity. They
talked and laughed until way past midnight, leaving Dorrie to crash
from exhaustion before she had sorted out the true mission for her
journey back to New York.

* * * *

Two months later, Kennedy Airport, New York
City

Dorrie smiled to see Drake Cunningham
standing by the baggage claim. Her old friend waved and grinned
when he spotted her.

“Thought you were only staying three
weeks?”

“I am.”

“You’ve got enough stuff for a year.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch. If you can’t handle
it…” she teased, reaching for the suitcase.

Drake whipped it away. “Never said that.
Just sayin’ it’s a lotta shit. Geez.”

“Doesn’t Chrissy over pack?”

“Not like this. Did you bring the whole
ensemble in here, too?”

Dorrie took a playful swipe at his shoulder.
They joined the line waiting for a taxi, but didn’t have long to
wait. Drake loaded her luggage in the trunk and they sped off
toward Manhattan.

“What’s your schedule?” Drake asked, as he
sat back against the seat.

“Let’s see…rehearse for two weeks, shoot for
one, squeeze the Fire Island reunion weekend in there—I think
between week one and two or two and three? Then back to L.A.”

“Doesn’t give you much time for…going
out.”

“Just a couple of nights after rehearsals.
When we shoot, we do it ’til there’s no light left. This time of
year, that’s about nine.”

“Won’t you be too tired?”

“Not for these dates.”

“Who are you going out with?”

“First, Archer Canfield.”

“Guy you modeled for?”

She nodded. “We had sort of a thing going.
Couldn’t do anything about it because it was business.”

“Then?”

“Then calling Rick Tarlock.”

“I thought you dumped him.”

She nodded. “Time for second chances.”

Drake shook his head. “And last?”

“You know the last one…Johnny.”

“He’s ‘John’ now.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Not to me. Still
Johnny. He’s all grown up…a successful businessman? Is he still
sleeping with every woman who walks?”

Drake laughed. “Not exactly. What if some of
these men don’t want to see you?”

“Unless they’re in relationships, I’m sure
they’ll have a friendly dinner with me.”

“Love your confidence.”

“It’s just dinner.”

“If I remember, you’ll have a hard time
keeping Rick and John out of the bedroom.”

Dorrie sensed heat in her cheeks. “Don’t
exaggerate.”

“From what you told me…”

“Drake!” She raised a fist to his face. He
put his hands up in a defensive position and chuckled. Dorrie
relaxed back against the seat.

“Last time I confide in you,” she mumbled,
half angry, half amused.

“Come on. Can you blame me? The set-up was
too good.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled back at
him.

Dorrie turned her gaze to the view of New
York coming closer. “Ah, the City. Good to be back.”

“Good to have you back,” Drake said, trying
to keep his tone light.

Riding in the taxi through Central Park to
get to the West Side, Dorrie smiled at the lush, deep green of the
trees and the occasional glimpses of light pink roses and bright
red geraniums. The cab pulled up in front of a high rise building
on West 88
^th
Street. She paid the driver while Drake
lugged her suitcases inside.

Dorrie had stayed with Drake and his wife,
Chrissy, on her last trip to New York, too. She had lived there for
several months and paid them a little rent for a comfortable room
in their two-bedroom apartment. This time, Drake refused to accept
money. Chrissy greeted Dorrie with a big hug and a plate of
homemade brownies.

At midnight, Dorrie couldn’t sleep. She
slipped on a robe and padded out to the living room. The window was
open. She sat cross-legged on the floor and looked up at the moon.
A cool, July evening breeze blew in, caressing her face. She smiled
as her mind wandered to the three men she intended to look up.
One more date, or maybe two, and I’ll know if leaving them was
the right thing. I’ll know, won’t I?

A noise startled her. She jumped and turned
eyes filled with fear to the archway leading to the hall. A
familiar curse and a limping Drake wearing only pajama bottoms made
her chuckle.

“What are you doing up?” she asked him,
oblivious to his firm chest and narrow waist.

“I could ask you the same question. Hey, I’m
injured here.”

“You’ll live.”

“Is that your prognosis, doc?”

Dorrie laughed then covered her mouth to
stifle the noise.

Drake sat down next to her.

“Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head. “I’m wondering about the
three guys.”

“John’s a changed man.”

“Really?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“He’s not a man-whore anymore.”

“We’ll see. He’ll get his chance, like the
others,” she sniffed. Shadows prevented her from seeing his eyes,
but she sensed his gaze on her. “How are you and Chrissy
doing?”

“Okay. Still speaking to each other.”

“You two are my role models.”

Drake cleared his throat and shifted
position. “What exactly are you expecting?”

“I don’t know. I hope I’ll know if I made
the right decision to leave them behind.”

“And if you didn’t?”

“Then I’ll try to pick it up where we left
off. Each one has something…special about him.”

“Good luck. I’m not sure you can recapture
the past.”

“Maybe not. But I can try, can’t I?”

“Hell…you can try anything.”

A cough made them turn around. Chrissy stood
in the archway, her long ash blonde hair glowed in the moonlight.
Drake pushed to his feet. “Hey, honey. Whatcha doin’ up?” He
brushed his hand through his hair.

“Wasn’t tired. But I know how to get
sleepy…Drake. You coming?” She shot a flirtatious look at her
husband. Dorrie hid a smirk behind her hand and turned away.

“Hell, yeah!”

“Night, Dorrie,” Chrissy called as she laced
her fingers with Drake’s.

Ah, married love. Maybe someday I’ll have
a husband who’ll make love to me until I fall asleep.
She
smiled and yawned. After one more glance at the moon, she hoisted
herself up and padded back to her room. Visions of four men danced
in her head.
Gunther, how’d you get in there?
Sleep wiped
the images from her mind.

She arose early the next morning and
switched on her computer. After dressing in workout clothes, she
made coffee and plopped down on the sofa with a mug in one hand and
her computer on her lap. There was an email from Marsha Strong, the
woman who owned the dance studio where Dorrie had pitched in for a
few months.

Hey Dorrie,

Hear you’re in New York. Time for a quick
coffee with me? My partner, Joanne, had a baby and has decided to
retire to full-time motherhood. I’m looking for a new partner, and
you came to mind immediately. You did a great job taking over for
me a few months ago. Everyone loved you. How about coming back as a
partner? Let’s talk.

Hugs,

Marsha

An opportunity to work in New York!
Dorrie was thrilled. Now, if she reconnected with one of the three
men, she could come back after the movie and settle down…
Perhaps
get married?
Happiness looked like it might be within reach.
Archer Canfield is a definite maybe. I could do a lot worse than
end up with him.

She was excited about the two avenues her
career could take.
I’ll make a lot more money in Hollywood. Have
freedom to do the choreography I want. If they make the series—a
big ‘if,’ it can still get canceled. But the yoga/dance studio has
been around for years. That’s steady employment, though for a lot
less money.