Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (24 page)

“I’m on it, all right,” she said with a deep sigh.

“The man ought to know,” Charley said. “He wrote it.” She silently cursed the faint tremor in her voice. How could Reese so unnerve her just by standing close to her? She risked a quick glance at him. Of course, his avid stare didn’t help.

He grinned at her, as if aware of her thoughts. “See you two tomorrow,” he said, and walked away.

Charley let out a tiny sigh of relief, then hastily told Carol good night. Last Charley had seen, Allison had been flirting with one of the men in the cast, and Charley wanted to catch her before she left. She had gone no more than a few steps, though, when Carol’s voice stopped her.

“Hey, Charley,” Carol called, her tone puzzled. “There’s another notice here.”

“Oh?” Charley asked, turning back. “Where?”

Carol pointed. In the corner of the board was a hand-written note, asking Charley to meet the director in the prop room after rehearsal. Carol looked at her curiously.

“You got a thing going with him too?” she asked. “If I were you, I’d take the big guy. Chalmers might give you more of a future, but I’d bet my next three paychecks that the big guy could put a permanent smile on your face.” Her tired eyes took on a wicked gleam.

“His name’s Reese,” Charley said absently, staring at the note. “Big guy” made Reese sound like some kind of hulking teddy bear, and he was neither hulking nor a teddy bear. Charley’s teddy bear from years gone by had been an innocent, cuddly object that absorbed her affections and demanded nothing. Reese demanded her soul.

“Well, I’d take Reese,” Carol said firmly.

Charley had no doubt she would, given half a chance. Most women would. Carol probably would have thought she was crazy to refuse Reese’s advances, and Charley wouldn’t blame her. She thought she was a little crazy too. How many times in one lifetime did people like Reese walk by, offering love? Charley wondered if there was an FBI directive that covered love. The idea brought a grin to her face.

“But then,” Carol added, “I wouldn’t insult Chalmers either. He looks like he could make life hell.”

“He is making life hell,” one of the other cast members muttered, coming between the two women to see if his name was posted for the next day. A groan told the world that it was.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Charley assured Carol as they walked away from the board. “I don’t have a ‘thing’ going with either one of them.”

Carol looked a little put out that Charley wasn’t taking her into her confidence. “Sure, sure. Have it your way. Reese was only staring at you all day because he’s nearsighted. See you tomorrow,” she added, and left the hall.

Charley shook her head and smiled. Well, she had to find the director.
What did Chalmers want with her, anyway
? she wondered. Then she stopped. The note was handwritten, not typed, like the other notices on the call-board. Maybe it wasn’t from the director at all. Anyone could have posted it. Charley had noticed that Allison had disappeared for a brief period during rehearsal. She would have had enough time to write out a quick note. Could Allison have posted it? Was she setting Charley up for a fatal meeting with the spy?

All her senses on alert, Charley made her way down the narrow corridor. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. She came to an unmarked door. Gingerly she opened it, holding her breath. She let out her breath. It was a closet.

The door next to it turned out to be the one she was looking for. As it creaked open, she saw that it led into the prop room. From where she stood in the hallway the room didn’t look much bigger than the closet. It was stuffed to overflowing with props, which wasn’t surprising, because the rehearsal rooms at the Minskoff were popular and used often.

The room was dark, and Charley could feel her fingertips growing cold as she groped for a light switch, on first one wall, then another. She finally found it and flicked the switch. A multitude of strangely shaped shadows appeared on the walls. The dark had been less unnerving.

“Mr. Chalmers?” she called hesitantly. What would Chalmers be doing waiting for her in an unlit, airless room? If he was here, he had a macabre sense of humor. Either that or he had a fondness for coffins, she thought, glancing around. Coffins. Now, there was a heartening thought. She shivered. Was Chalmers waiting for her inside the room? Was someone else?

She gave it one more try, just in case the message had been legitimate. Directors were known to be strange at times, and Chalmers was stranger than most.

“Mr. Chalmers?” This time her voice was strong and clear.
Whistle a happy tune, right?
she thought.
Then no one will know you’re afraid—if they don’t pay attention to your knocking knees
.

She was just about ready to give up and reached to switch off the light. A hand closed over hers. She gasped involuntarily as she was pulled into the room. The door slammed shut behind her.

She spun around to look at her assailant, her heart pounding wildly.

“Reese!”

“Glad to see you still recognize me,” he said, releasing her hand. “The way you’ve been dodging me all day, I was afraid maybe you thought I was some stranger trying to put the make on you.” Beneath the light words there was a trace of annoyance.

He was right. She had been dodging him. But she had also been busy throwing herself into the center of little gatherings in hopes of picking up some clue that might help her uncover the unknown agent.

Reese drew closer, and she drew back. Or tried to. She was wedged between a Viking shield and an old-fashioned gramophone. “You posted the note?” she asked.

He nodded. “I posted the note.” As he answered, his fingers gently swept over her face, seducing her with a mere touch.

“Why?”

Pull back your head. Duck. Scream.
Do something
, she thought. She was doing something. She was enjoying his nearness.

“It was the only way I could get you alone,” he said. “What with all those people rushing around, there’s not much space out there.”

“There’s not all that much space in here,” she pointed out.

“Yes,” he said, grinning. “I know.”

And then his body pressed against hers, so close that she could feel every contour. He took her into his arms, holding her as if she were a delicate rose.

Don’t let him kiss you! Don’t . . . Don’t . . . do. . .

Charley had no say in the matter. When her lips moved, they moved against his, savoring the sweet taste they found there. Bells pealed inside her. It was there. It was all there. The magic, the love, the need.

“I’ve been dying to do that all day,” he whispered against her cheek as they parted, both breathing quickly. “And, Charley?”

“Hmm?” It was the only sound she could make at the moment.

“There’s something else I’ve been dying to do all day.”

She jerked her head up. Oh, no, she thought. He wanted to make love to her. A kiss was one thing. It might turn her bones into maple syrup, but she could still pretend otherwise. If he made love to her, he’d know for sure how she felt. There’d be no hiding it from him. And then he’d pursue her, determined to stake out a place in her life, to get a commitment out of her at any cost.

She couldn’t let that happen. When she had walked out before, she’d been guessing at the danger he might be exposed to. Now she knew.

“Reese, I’m having trouble breathing in here,” she said. If she didn’t put some space between their bodies soon, she knew they’d wind up making love.

His fingers stroked a path through her hair, and her scalp tingled. Was she quivering on the outside as well?

“Me too,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “Must be love.”

“No, claustrophobia.”

He looked surprised. He stopped touching her face, and Charley breathed an inward sigh of relief. “I didn’t know you had claustrophobia.”

She nodded. “I get crazy when I feel hemmed in.” She searched his face in the harsh light, wondering if her message was clear. Even in the unflattering glare, he looked magnificent. And she was trying to get rid of him.
You’re out of your mind, Charley
, she scolded herself. Nobody is this dedicated.

“We could meet in Central Park,” he suggested, playing along for the moment, his lips teasing her as he rained tiny kisses on her mouth. “But we’d have to watch out for the muggers. On the other hand, they might just watch us instead. ...”

Charley’s eyelids lowered as part of her fought for the right to savor this delicious moment. The man was a dream maker, lifting her soul out of its five-foot-three boundaries and taking it to uncharted, wonderful places. “They won’t be watching,” she said with an effort, “because . . . there won’t ... be anything . . . to . . . see. Reese, please ...”

“Charley, where are you?”

The bright feminine voice pierced the hot, steamy atmosphere of the prop room, yanking Charley back to Broadway and Forty-fifth. Allison. Saved by the enemy. Another reason to hate them.

The door opened and the pert blonde popped her head in. “Charley, are you in here?” Her eyes grew almost comically wide. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m disturbing you.”

“Unfortunately you’re not,” Reese said, dropping his hands easily to Charley’s hips. The nonchalant movement did exactly what Charley knew it was calculated to do. It made her yearning for him deepen.

Allison looked her most appealing, Charley thought, noting the way her golden head was haloed by the light. Allison might not be a full fledged agent, Charley thought, but she was no ingénue either, despite the pose she was affecting. Charley noticed that the other woman’s gaze kept going hungrily to Reese.

“I couldn’t find you, “Allison explained, still looking at Reese. Although she did have the decency to make it a side glance.

“Well, you’ve found me,” Charley said, edging around Reese. He only moved back a step, so their bodies brushed against each other as she worked her way to the door. Charley was surprised that the crackle of electricity they generated wasn’t audible. Why did he have to torment her this way? Why did she have to torment herself this way?

“I guess dinner’s off, huh?” Allison asked, her cornflower-blue eyes devouring Reese again.

Charley cleared her throat. “Oh, no, dinner’s on,” she said, her voice an octave higher than normal. Who would have thought that a real life dupe would be riding to the rescue and saving her from herself? It was an upside-down world.

But Allison shook her head. “No, I can see you have other things to do. Besides, I have to memorize my lines. I’ll see you tonight ... or whenever.” She smiled significantly.

It occurred to Charley as she watched Allison saunter off that the other woman might welcome the chance to be alone in the apartment to make arrangements with her contact. Charley could only hope those arrangements would involve phone calls. The line was patched in to Max’s studio apartment and a tape recorder that he reviewed every evening.

“Very perceptive lady,” Reese said, turning his attention to Charley. “She could tell we wanted to be alone.”

“We don’t want to be alone,” Charley insisted. “We want to be on a crowded dance floor with lots of loud music and people.” Maybe then she’d be immune to him, she added silently.

“You don’t like loud music and crowds,” he reminded her, taking her elbow as he guided her out of the room.

“I’ve changed,” she lied, knowing how much he hated discos.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“We’ll go find some loud music and a crowd.”

Oh, Lord, she thought. Was he really going to take her to one of those places? One of those places where people sported hair that came out of a crayon box and the decibel level threatened to make you flunk your next hearing test? Why couldn’t he just go home and leave her alone?

Part of Charley’s wish came true. Reese went home. But he took her with him. For the first ten minutes of the journey, though, as they walked north and east, he actually had her convinced that they were going to some club for an evening of noise and dancing. What gave him away was that he stopped at a delicious-smelling deli for a couple of huge hero sandwiches. One did not go to a disco with two hero sandwiches tucked under one’s arm—no matter how good they smelled.

“We’re not going to a disco, are we?” Charley asked as they walked back out onto the street.

He grabbed her arm. It seemed as if the jostling throng of homeward-bound pedestrians was trying to separate them.

“Smart lady,” he said, stopping at a corner while they waited for the light to turn green. “I always knew you had the makings of a detective.”

“You should only know the half of it,” she muttered to herself.

He threw her a glance over his shoulder. “What? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, why aren’t you taking me to dinner, since you don’t want to take me dancing?” she shouted, desperately wanting to stay around people. Alone she’d be lost. The man beside her gave her an annoyed glare. She had managed to yell into his ear. She gave him a properly apologetic look.

“I am taking you to dinner,” Reese said. “It’s a very exclusive place. C’mon, let’s go.”

“I’ll bet!” she retorted as they crossed the avenue. “You’re taking me to your place.”

“Could be, could be,” he said. She looked up to see a twinkle in his eye. “At least this way I know that you won’t jump up and run out the door to meet ‘Uncle Max.’ You don’t have an Uncle Max, Charley.”

It was useless to deny his accusation. He knew everything about her. In the short time they had spent together, she had bared her soul as well as her family tree to him. And he remembered.

He’s too good to lose, Charley
, a little voice inside her cried.
That
, she told the little voice,
was exactly the point of her evasiveness
. She was silent the rest of the way to Reese’s apartment building on Seventy-eighth and First.

“Nice,” she said when they entered the building. The lobby was spacious and freshly painted, and her shoes clicked on the black-and-white tile floor. “This is certainly a far cry from your old place. You even have an elevator.”

“I let some of the other tenants use it on occasion,” he said as they stepped inside it. “If they promise to be nice to me.”