Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (23 page)

Charley was surprised at how well she and Allison seemed to get along. Allison was willing to agree to any suggestion Charley made. She appeared to have very few opinions of her own and was almost endearingly eager to please.

She insisted on taking the couch, so Charley wouldn’t have to share her small bedroom. Still, as she lay in bed late that night, her open script her only companion, Charley knew she would have gladly shared her bedroom with one particular person. Stop it! she cried silently. Moping and indulging in self-pity was not her style. She had to get hold of herself.

Maybe seeing Reese on an everyday basis would diffuse some of his allure. She had never really spent enough time with him to discover his weak points. At least that was what she tried to tell herself as she dropped off into a troubled sleep.

But even in her drowsy state Charley didn’t believe a word of it.

Charley dressed casually for the first rehearsal. It was to begin at nine that morning, but she always liked to be early. She was already up and dressed when Allison first opened her eyes. Allison was wearing white baby-doll pajamas with little pink flowers across the front. Her flowing blond hair tumbled around her shoulders. No wonder Graystone had fallen like a ton of bricks, Charley thought as she walked to the kitchenette to pour herself a glass of orange juice. When she woke up in the morning, she just looked like an unmade bed.

“Did I wake you?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” Allison said quickly. There was a touch of breathlessness in her voice, and Charley wondered if she was consciously trying to sound like Marilyn Monroe. “Did I oversleep?” she asked, scrambling off the couch.

“Nope, I just like getting up early,” Charley said. “Mornings are my favorite time of day.” Except during those few weeks she had spent with Reese. Then it had been the nights— after the final curtain, when they were both free. They had spent hours making love. Where had the time gone?

“Me too,” Allison said enthusiastically. “I love mornings.”

“Well, I’ve got to run,” Charley said. “Just slam the door on your way out. It locks itself. I’ll see you at rehearsal later.”

“Planning on seeing him?” Allison asked as she walked to the kitchenette.

Was there a note of undue interest in Allison’s voice? Charley mused. “Him?” she asked innocently.

Allison smiled as she reached for the pot of coffee Charley had made. “That really good-looking guy I saw you with yesterday. Is he in the play too?”

“He’s the stage manager,” Charley said. Was it obvious to everyone how she felt about Reese? How she had felt about Reese, she amended. She wasn’t about to let those feelings out again, even if they did exist.

But if that was the case, she asked herself, why was she rushing off to rehearsal so early? Was it in the hope of seeing Reese alone?

“Are you going to see him?” Allison pressed, voicing Charley’s silent question.

“Only if he comes my way,” Charley said eva
sively, picking up her sweater. She tied the sleeves together around her neck, letting the arms dangle down the front of her cream-colored pullover. With script in hand, she made her exit.

No, she wasn’t going in early to see the stage manager
, she told herself as she left her building. She was going to do her job. Both her jobs—as an actress and as an FBI agent. That was more than enough for any one person to handle. She wasn’t going to allow any further complications. That decided, she instructed herself to enjoy the crisp, brilliant September morning as she headed west along Sixty-fifth Street.

About forty minutes later Charley arrived at the Minskoff Theatre. She entered the rehearsal room and blinked a few times to accustom her eyes to the dim lighting. She began walking toward the stage, when a sound behind her startled her.

“Hi,” a voice said. “How’s Uncle Max?”

She spun around and came face-to-face with Reese. Her nerves of steel weren’t quite up to par this morning. She stifled a shriek and dropped both her script and purse as she clapped a hand over her pounding heart.

“Reese!” she exclaimed. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

“I wasn’t sneaking up on people,” he corrected her. “I was sneaking up on you—before you could bolt away again like some deer in a commercial about forest fires.” He bent to pick up her script.

Charley looked down at his black head and longed to run her hand through his soft hair. But there was no opportunity to indulge that longing. The entire contents of her purse had spilled out, and various items were now rolling down the aisle, stopping wherever gravity chose to declare journey’s end.

“Oh, no.” Charley groaned. “Now look what you’ve done.” In a half-crouching position she made her way down the aisle, picking up a comb here, a compact there, a tube of lip gloss, and three sticks of wayward eye shadow. Instead of helping her, Reese leaned against an aisle seat and watched, seeming highly amused.

“You could at least have the decency to look contrite,” Charley said, finally rising to her feet after dumping everything back into her purse.

Reese handed her the script. “Why? Did you look contrite when you left me?”

“I told you,” she said, tossing her head, “I had to meet my uncle Max.”

“I wasn’t talking about last night,” he said quietly, putting a hand on each of her shoulders. “I’m talking about a year ago. Times Square. High noon. Except that there wasn’t very much to be high about.”

She looked at the floor, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “I gave you my reasons then.”

He put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her head until her eyes looked directly into his. “And now?”

“Now? Now I might be a completely different person, Reese. People change in a weekend. There’s been a whole year of weekends between us. Maybe you wouldn’t even like the ‘me’ that exists now.” She felt miserable saying that, almost as miserable as when she’d cut him out of her life the first time.

“I like the ‘me’ that exists now,” he said, brushing her chestnut hair away from her face. The movement was soft, caressing. It evoked all sorts of sensations within her.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I kissed you, remember?”

She felt his breath whisper against her face, and forced herself to break free. She knew that if she didn’t she’d really need him to hold her up, because her knees were turning to water. “Oh, yes, the great kissing swami. How could I forget that? One kiss does not a prophesy make,” she said flippantly.

“Okay, I’ll go along with that,” he said, catching hold of one shoulder and spinning her back around. “Let’s try for three or four and see where they lead us.”

“They’ll lead us into trouble,” she retorted. “The stage manager isn’t supposed to fraternize that closely with the cast members. It’s in the union code somewhere. Look it up,” she suggested.

“I’d rather look you up,” he said.

“You’d be surprised,” she replied, almost somberly.

“Would I, now?” He took her into his arms.

“I’ve just acquired a roommate.” She watched his expression change.

“Oh?”

It sounded like the world’s coldest word, and she knew she should let him go on thinking what he was thinking. It would end the entanglement between them right then and there. It was the best thing for both of them. But his eyes held the same pain they had had the last time she’d hurt him, and something within her, that little part of her that longed to be loved and held, begged her not to go through with it. Still, Charley kept silent.

Reese let go of her. She tried not to look the way she felt. This was for the best, she told herself. This was the only option she had. This was—terribly painful.

She turned to walk away on legs that seemed to be made of solid lead. Just as she did so, Allison burst into the rehearsal hall like a ray of sunshine. She sounded breathless, as usual. “Hi!” she sang out. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Nothing that hasn’t already been interrupted,” Charley said in a flat voice.

“Oh, good. Listen, I have a little money socked away for emergencies. Let me buy dinner tonight, okay? It’s the least I can do until I can pay my share of the rent.”

Charley winced and closed her eyes tight.

Then she opened one and looked in Reese’s direction. He had heard. He was smiling.

“So this is your new roommate,” he said expansively, hooking an arm around each of the women.

“Yes,” Allison said. “Charley took me in just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like folks back in Iowa would. Isn’t she something else?”

“She certainly is,” Reese said in a low, deep voice.

Charley pressed her lips together. The best-laid plans of mice and men . . .

Behind them, more of the cast had begun to file in. Leading the haphazard procession was Rhonda, who looked as if she already believed herself to be a star. It was time to get to work, Charley thought. But it was hard to concentrate on anything when Reese was slipping his hand about her waist and leaning his head down.

“Dinner tonight?” he asked.

His breath fanned her cheek.
Control,
Charley
, she ordered herself. “I’ll be busy,” she said, refusing to look up at him. “Learning my lines.”

“I’ll help you with all the lines you want,” he promised in a sexy voice.

“You probably know more than are in the script.”

He chuckled. “I don’t need lines with you, Charley.”

That he didn’t. Still, it was far too risky for her to see him after hours.

“Reese, I’m not going to eat with you. I’m not going to drink with you, or hold hands with you. And I’m certainly not going to bed with you,” she finished, a little too emphatically and a little too loudly.

“Well, well, well. Playing hard to get, Charley?” Rhonda asked sarcastically. “Don’t hold out too long, dear, or he might develop some taste and look for a real woman.” She ran one hand along the bottom of Reese’s chin as she smiled up at him invitingly.

“If he does,” Charley shot back, “I’m sure he won’t be looking for someone whose parts come out of the Yellow Pages—listed under upholstery.”

Charley was instantly appalled at what she’d said. She was blowing her cool right from the start. Having Reese around was definitely bad for her. She was supposed to mingle with the cast members and gain their confidence. How was she going to do that sounding like a barracuda?

But no one seemed the slightest bit put off by her retort. As a matter of fact, if she was reading faces correctly, they all looked as if they wanted to applaud her. It was obvious that already no one, except Carol, liked Rhonda.

The sound of stiff clapping was heard behind them. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the stage, where Chalmers was standing glaring at them impatiently. Next to him was his ever-faithful assistant.

“Shall we get on with this, people?” Chalmers asked.

As they filed up on the stage, Reese took the opportunity to pass Charley, his hip brushing against hers. “I’ll see you later,” he said in a voice that was full of promise.

Chapter Four

Rehearsal was grueling.

Chalmers was not a multi-faceted person. The manner he had used during the audition was the manner they were subjected to throughout rehearsal. Charley’s initial impression had been right. The man was a bear.

“I’ve got exactly two weeks to turn you starry-eyed klutzes into actors,” he began, pompously staring above their heads, his hands clasped behind his back.

“The man has a silver tongue,” Charley muttered to Allison.

Allison offered a smile that flashed on and off her face in less than a second. As the director droned on, Charley took the opportunity to study Allison’s profile. Once again she wondered if perhaps the woman knew who her roommate really was. If there were only some way to tell to set her own mind at ease. But ease wasn’t a part of life in this business, Charley reminded herself. Being on guard twenty-four hours a day was the only way to survive.

The director’s monologue lasted a good twenty minutes, and Charley guessed that he prolonged the speech because he liked the sound of his own voice. There was definitely no shortage of that during the rest of the day, as the basic scene blocking took place. Chalmers was all commands and arms as he pointed out where everyone should stand during each line of the play, except for the musical numbers.

It was exhausting.

And it was particularly vexatious for Charley because she was trying to avoid Reese. Or, rather, his eyes. As the stage manager, he had to sit next to Chalmers and make note of the blocking. Part of his job was to prompt the actors during rehearsal, should any of them forget a mark or lines.

Charley would have thought that his note-taking would keep Reese’s eyes busy as well as his hands. But it didn’t. Every time she looked up she found him watching her, his gaze touching her intimately. As intimately as his hands had once done.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, everyone was grateful. There was a consensus that Chalmers would have worked them nonstop into the wee hours of the morning if he could have, but as union members they were guaranteed breaks and an eight-hour day.

“He looks like he’s ready for a fresh group of victims,” Charley commented to Carol as they walked backstage.

Carol shook her head wearily. “I’m not looking forward to working on the dance routines with him.”

“No choreographer?” Charley asked in surprise.

“Yeah, him,” Carol answered dejectedly, shouldering a canvas tote bag. “Well, let’s see who’s on call tomorrow morning. Please Lord,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes, “don’t let it be me. I want to soak in a hot tub until Christmas.”

As they walked over to the call-board to check the next day’s schedule, Charley saw that Reese was still there, pinning up a long list of names.

“Rehearsal at nine, ladies,” he said cheerfully, looking directly at Charley.

“We’re on the list?” Carol asked in dismay, glancing up at him.

“You’re on it,” he said, still gazing at Charley.

She shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to meet his eyes, and watched instead as Carol ran one long scarlet nail along the list until she found her name.