The One That I Want (18 page)

We chitchatted with my friends, of course, but it was obvious—to me, at least—that Shar and Elsie had made a pact to leave me alone in the company of Dane Tyler as much as possible. Before they could come up with an excuse to rush off, though, Rosemary, the stage manager, spotted all of us talking together, and she and her husband joined our merry group for a little while.

“Wonderful Closing Night performance,” Rosemary said to Dane. “I thought it was your best show yet.”

“Thank you,” he said graciously. “It seemed…almost electric out there tonight.”

Shar glanced at me and raised her eyebrows.

A few more theater folks sidled up to us, and we all ended up chatting about the appreciative crowd, while the various cast and crew members said many times over how glad they were to have gotten to work with Dane and each other and how it would be so exciting if they were able to join forces for another show again. Yadda, yadda.

Shar and Elsie excused themselves at this point and went off to meet other members of the production. Shar was soon flirting with the director of the play—the famous Zachary Leeward. (Although, when I pulled her aside for a moment, she confessed it was all in good fun. “The guy’s been married
five
times!” Shar hissed in my ear. “Seriously, this won’t go anywhere. I read his IMDb bio. My brothers would dismember him if he showed up at a family gathering and said he was my date.”)

Rosemary’s husband Thomas was nice—some sort of building contractor—but she and Thomas were mix-n-minglers. They reminded me of one of those teacup rides at an amusement park, just spinning around from one side of the room to another, in a seemingly endless series of circles. Rosemary looked, admittedly, rather surprised when she realized and Dane and I had come together on a date, but she was very kind and welcoming.

Aside from the people we both knew, though, Dane had some other social duties to perform, and he gave me a heads up on that.

“I’m apologizing in advance for the dry conversations ahead,” he told me. “But there are some people here that have greatly supported the theater and who made a point to be very attentive to me when I arrived in June. I need to at least acknowledge everyone and thank them personally.”

“Of course. Do you want me to wait for you—”

“No! No, stay with me. I just wanted to explain what was about to happen.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I’d much rather be having a long, private conversation with you. But it’s really nice having a friend to do this with. I’m so used to always having to struggle through these things alone.”

“I’m sure you’ve brought many dates to many parties in the past, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but it was pretty obvious early on that, in most cases, there was an agenda. Making strategic contacts. Networking with agents or directors. At least four or five times a lady I brought to a party left me within a week or less for some dude she met there.” He paused. “So, maybe you want to take a few minutes to look around. Chances are high you’ll find someone else here tonight that you’d like a lot better.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?” he said with a wry grin. “Because you actually like me better or because you’ve already checked out the men who are present and none are to your taste?”

I laughed at this. “Insecure much?”

The moment the words were out, his eyes widened in surprise. I felt almost guilty but, really? Could he actually have worries like that? Looking at his face, the answer was…maybe.

“Oooooh, okay,” he said with a chuckle. “Yeah, perhaps a little.”

It was my turn to take his hand. “Listen, Dane, I realized I don’t know the complexities of your life, and I have no idea what’s involved behind the scenes at Hollywood gatherings or entertainment industry events, but you were the one who asked me here tonight, and I came because… It’s simple, really. I like you. And I like spending time with you.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

Then, suddenly, he pulled me into his arms and just hugged me. “Thank you, Julia,” he whispered in my ear before letting me go. “Means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

We chatted with some of the VIPs he’d told me we were going to see, but he was always very inclusive of me in the conversations, even when they were focused on topics I knew little about. Funding for various arts events. Theatrical and literary causes. Filmmaking stuff.

A few more people from the cast came up to us, more small talk. Very pleasant but equally superficial. Dane brought us a couple of glasses of champagne, and a large plate heaped with very elaborate and intricately created appetizers.

I spotted Elsie and a few crew members laughing over a platter of some impossibly structured shrimp canapés. Shar, meanwhile, was on the dance floor with the director, being twirled around. She looked like she was having a blast.

“Wanna go out there for a spin?” Dane asked me.

If I’d ever been forced to explain my high-school fantasies regarding Dane Tyler, I would have to admit that most of them started with him asking me to dance (at prom or some big public event) and ended with us dancing at our wedding. Embarrassing to think about that now, as he took my hand and led me to the dance floor. But, likewise, impossible not to remember.

The DJ played Celine Dion’s “The Power of Love,” which made me smile. It was one of the major songs featured on the
Warriors of Warrenville High
soundtrack. I didn’t mention this to Dane, of course, because it would only alert him to what a crazed fan I’d once been, but he seemed to sense my recognition of the music nevertheless.

“I always liked this one,” he said, bringing his body closer to mine as we swayed to the Canadian songstress’s famous hit from the nineties. I was worried he might be able to feel just how fast my heart was beating, especially when he added, “And, hey, I’m getting to dance with an official card-carrying fan club member.”

“Not exactly,” I said, laughing. “The card’s not with me.”

“But you didn’t throw it in the trash or burn it so…close enough.”

“True.”

“Official fan club members get kisses. I told you that, remember?”

I nodded and started to make some joke when he bent down and kissed me very softly on my mouth. Not much pressure. No tongue. Just his lips lightly on my lips.

Oh, dear heaven
.

It shouldn’t have felt as electric as it did, but there was no way I could deny the truth. As brief as it was, it was powerful, and the current of his kiss reached all the way down to my toes.

He smiled at me, his grin growing even broader as I licked my bottom lip right after he pulled away.

“You’d better be careful, Julia Meriwether Crane, aka number 49202. Licking your lips constitutes as an invitation for
another
kiss in some circles.”

I felt myself flush everywhere and glanced away from Dane’s amused gaze, only to catch Shar staring right at me, her mouth agape.

“Uh, oh,” I murmured.

“What?”

“My best friend just saw that. I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

Dane shot a look in Shar’s direction, smiled at her, and then leaned close to me again. “Wanna give her something really good to talk about?”

“Dane, you don’t know Sharlene Michaelsen Boyd. She’d do more than just want to
talk
about it. She’d probably get her brother Blake to broadcast it, too.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he said, laughing. “I keep forgetting those two are related. I liked Blake. The radio interview with him was the most fun I’ve had at a press event this month.”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy. Hilarious to talk to and—oh!” My heel caught on something on the floor. A thick piece of black tape that had been used to cover up some wire. The tape had come unstuck, and it was just strong enough to catch my shoe and make me lose my balance for a second.

Dane caught me, but the weird angle I was moving—my body one way, my foot another—made me twist my ankle.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as I took a couple of steps forward and hobbled.

“I will be. I think.” I took another step.
Ow
. “I’d better take the weight off of it, though.”

He led me to a nearby circular cocktail table, which had a handful of empty chairs. “Let’s take a look.”

I showed him my foot and ankle. He massaged them for a moment and I winced.

“Hurts, huh? You should probably put an ice pack on that, just in case it starts to swell. I can get you one.”

“No, don’t do that,” I said quickly. I glanced around. Already we were getting some odd stares from several of the other guests, I didn’t want to draw even more attention to myself. “I don’t want anyone to think I got a serious injury in the middle of your big party. It’s just a little twist. I’ll be fine soon.”

“Okay. But do you think you can walk without too much pain to the elevator?”

I knew it was located just outside of the reception area. Maybe thirteen or fourteen yards from where I was sitting.

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Because my hotel room is almost directly above us.” He pointed to the ceiling. “Well, sixteen flights up but only a few feet from the elevator.”

“Oh, we don’t have to go—”

“Yes, we do. C’mon. I have ice in my mini fridge.”

So, without attracting much attention (other than Shar’s, since she had a way of noticing everything, even when she was all the way across the room being held captive by the play’s director), Dane helped me get to the elevator and up to his suite.

“Nice digs,” I said when we entered. The hotel room was just as he’d described—spacious, clean, and lovely—but, obviously, it was very different from the coziness of his childhood apartment. “And, wow. Planning to construct a float for the next Rose Parade in here?” There were dozens of flowers in vases of all sizes on every available surface.

He looked a tad embarrassed. “I still get some ‘break a leg’ bouquets from fans.”

“Apparently.”

He helped me get comfortable on the sofa and set to work creating an ice pack from ice cubes in his mini-fridge and a plush hand towel. Then he propped me up with a couple of extra pillows and asked what I’d like him to bring me to drink.

“I could get used to this,” I told him. “Thank you. You’ve already done plenty. You don’t have to bring me anything else, although—” I sunk deep into the sofa. “This is almost
too
relaxing. I could fall asleep right here.”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t stop you. It’s after midnight already. Why don’t you stay?”

“Here? With—uh, with you in the hotel room?”

“Are you worried I’m going to jump your injured bones?” He eyed my reclined body comically, lingering on my twisted ankle with his makeshift ice pack.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, it’s not that.” I told him about my daughter’s Camp Willowgreen event the next morning and how I’d promised her I’d be there by ten. “It’s a two-hour drive up to the camp, so—”

“So get some rest now. When do you need to wake up? I can set an alarm for you.”

Theoretically, this should have been a very bad idea. I mean, there I was, lounging on Dane Tyler’s hotel-room sofa, after having spent the night as his “date.” Forget the possibility of curious paparazzi or my own longstanding fantasies, the idea of staying over when I knew I would need to go home to shower and change clothes before driving up to see Analise should have been enough for me to just say no.

And, yet…

It was a sign of how tired I was that I was considering this so seriously.

“It would be tough to drive when your ankle is still bothering you,” he reasoned.

“And I know it’s late, but I’m more drained than usual,” I admitted.

“I bored you to exhaustion?” Dane suggested.

I laughed. “No, that’s not it. I think it has more to do with the champagne I drank at the party and the fact that I haven’t been in heels for almost a year.”

“You did have a couple of glasses, didn’t you? You definitely shouldn’t be driving then. Wait here.”

Dane disappeared for a few minutes but returned armed with a bunch of stuff I could only partially identify. He handed me a sealed plastic packet and explained, “The hotel has a complimentary toiletry pack, so you’ll find a mini toothbrush, some toothpaste, facial cleansing pads, Q-tips, and God knows what else in here. But wait, there’s more!” he said, like a game-show host. He put a couple of folded items into my hands. “The t-shirt is brand new. Got it this week from the gift shop, but I can grab another. It’ll be long on you, but I think it’ll look way better on you than me.” It was a pretty light blue, featuring the Windy City’s skyline etched across the front and the words “Sweet Home Chicago” in scripty lettering at the top. “And here’s a fresh robe from the bathroom to warm you up after your shower or bath, whichever you’d like.” He pointed toward his bathroom. “Get yourself ready for bed, and I’ll fix up this pull-out sofa, all right?”

He had it all so well planned out. “All right,” I heard myself agreeing. “Thanks, Dane.”

“No problem.”

After taking a quick but hot shower, changing into the t-shirt Dane gave me, and brushing my teeth, not only my ankle but all of me felt about three-hundred percent better. I emerged from the steamy bathroom to find him waiting for me—pillows, sheets, and a blanket already on the sofa bed.