Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (7 page)

Shane sighed and wiggled into her dress. The front came down to a provocative V, while all that covered her bare back were two thin straps that crisscrossed, weaving their way down to her trim waist. The dress flared slightly from that point, with just enough material about her hips and legs to swish invitingly. She had bought it for the party. More than that, she had bought it to wear for Nick.

“Shane, there’s nothing wrong with looking good,” she told her reflection sternly. “But get off this merry-go-round before you fall off your horse reaching for that brass ring. Falling for a movie star doesn’t have one sensible thing going for it. Now, write that article and keep your damned heart out of it!”

She was a doer, and hated waiting around, yet was always ready early. She sat down with her notebook in hand to formulate bits and pieces that would eventually go into the article. She had been resolved to write the best article possible. Now she couldn’t write anything at all. An entire day wasted.

This had to stop. She had to get hold of herself. She had always been able to control her emotions before, except for that brief period with Alan. And even then, she had been the one who filed for the divorce. She couldn’t afford to fall in love again. The emotion ruined all the well-placed order in her life and definitely interfered with her goals.

A knock on the door interrupted the pep talk she was giving herself, the words fleeing as that now-familiar tingling took hold of her. Maybe, she thought, striding toward the door, she had been working herself too hard these last few years. She hadn’t had a vacation. Maybe this wasn’t a crazy kind of love she was heading for. Maybe it was just a nervous breakdown. Maybe—

Disappointment registered on her face as she swung open the door and found Scottie standing there instead of Nick.

“Boy, you look terrific!” he told her, his eyes bright.

Shane smiled, pleased. Maybe the wayward gypsy look was in. “Thank you. Couldn’t Nick make it?” she asked, glancing up and down the hallway.

“Oh, he’s in the car. He thought it’d be better if he didn’t come out and cause a commotion,” Scottie explained, “since he’s dressed up.”

“How’s that again?” Shane asked, picking up a small cloth purse she had bought to go with her dress.

“People expect to see celebrities all dressed up, and that makes him easier to spot. If he’s wearing faded jeans, people stand around and wonder, ‘Is it or isn’t it?” If he’s dressed in a tux, they seem to know for sure.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Shane responded. She hadn’t thought about how much privacy a celebrity gives up in exchange for that line of work. It was beginning to sound less glamorous all the time. She pulled the door shut behind her as Scottie led the way back to the elevator.

Nick waited for her in the back of the black limousine, the dark-tinted windows protecting him from the outside world. Shane felt as if she were entering an inner sanctum. Scottie closed the door behind her and went up to the driver’s seat.

“Hi,” Nick said warmly. Even in the dim light she could see the look of absolute appreciation in his eyes. “Very nice,” he said huskily, moving closer to her.

“I found this dress in a little shop down the—“

“I was talking about you,” Nick interrupted, touching her hair. “I like it like this. It gives you a wild, free look.”

“As in fair game?” she queried uncertainly.

“I never indulge in games off the set,” he told her, and Shane thought that he sounded sincere. But then, after all, the man was an accomplished actor. He could sound sincere selling her the Brooklyn Bridge or property in Atlantis.

“I see that this morning’s near-drowning appears not to have had a permanent effect on you,” he said. His gaze carefully washed over every inch of her.

Lord, he made her nervous. “None,” she confirmed. “What’s the occasion for the party?” she asked, feeling it wise to change the topic.

“It’s Saturday,” he told her.

“That’s an occasion?”

“It is to Gloria,” he said with a laugh. “She likes to have parties. Other people like to go to parties. It all works out,” he told her easily. “You look very tense,” he added after a pause. “Want another massage?”

The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to put his hands on her again. “No!” she said quickly, then added, “thank you,” in a more subdued tone. “Besides, I should be working,” she said, trying to sound a little more like her old self.

“You are working,” he assured her. “You’re getting to know me better.” He slipped an arm about her shoulders.

“I mean really—“

“Well, if you’d like to get to know me in the biblical sense, that can be arranged too. We don’t have to go to this party. ...” His voice trailed off as his hand began to make lazy patterns on her bare back.

Shane pursed her lips. “I meant I should be asking you more questions.”

“Ah, yes, more questions.” Nick sighed. “All right, fire away.”

“Are you interested in anyone very special at the moment?” she heard herself asking. Very professional, McCallister. The man’s not dumb. He can see right through that one. A four-year-old could see through that one.

But Nick had the good grace to keep a straight face. “Yes, very special.” His warm breath caressed her face, leaving no doubts in her mind as to his meaning. She liked his answer, yet couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. Not when Nick Rutledge could have his pick of any woman in the country.

“Shane, you’re going to have to learn how to relax around me,” Nick told her.

“Like this morning?” she asked archly.

His smile was beautiful. Men weren’t supposed to have beautiful smiles. Men were supposed to be rugged, macho—yet Nick had a beautiful smile, she thought again. “This morning at the pool was nice,” he said.

“This morning at the pool was a mistake,” Shane said. She was uncomfortable and wanted to look him square in the eye yet didn’t dare to. His eyes did those strange things to her.

“Okay,” Nick said evenly. His tone surprised her. “Let’s talk about it.”

“I’d rather not.”

He took her hand. “Kind of close-mouthed when it comes to your emotions, aren’t you?”

She wanted to take back her hand, yet found that she had no power to do so. “I’m a careful planner,” she said slowly. “I don’t like becoming involved in things that have no possible future.”

He shook his dark head patiently, disagreeing with her last comment. “Things can’t have a future if they don’t have a present.”

“That sounds like a Chinese fortune cookie,” she couldn’t help retorting.

“There are some wise things stuffed into fortune cookies,” he said lightly. She was glad he didn’t take offense at her comment. He turned his head and peered out. “I think we’ve arrived.”

The car came to a halt before a pier on Marston Lake, and they got out. Several yards away were canopied party boats with gleaming white lacquered chairs set up on their decks for the guests. On the shore were six tables laden with food. Salads molded in the shape of different animals rested on beds of ice, and were complemented by platters of cold meat. Music provided by a small band floated about the gaily decorated area.

“Nicky, darling!” came a squeal as Nick and Shane went toward the buffet. Shane looked around to see a starlet type in a silver lame dress that looked painted on. She wiggled over to kiss Nick, then flitted on to another important person who caught her eye.

Nick cleared his throat, a trifle amused at the expression on Shane’s face. “Always wondered how women could walk in clothes that tight,” he said, taking her elbow.

“Her type slithers, I expect,” Shane commented dryly. Nick’s warm laugh encircled her.

His warm laugh was practically all she had of Nick that evening as she watched one woman after another come up to him and fawn. To his credit, she had to admit that although he seemed to like their attention, he appeared unaffected by it all. Was it that he was used to this kind of attention, or perhaps, as she hoped, he really didn’t care about it? Shane scribbled down the thought on a cocktail napkin. At least she had come up with one printable observation today, she told herself.

“Is that some sort of code?” Nick’s deep voice asked. She glanced up to see him looking over her shoulder at the napkin she was about to tuck into her purse.

“Just notes,” she said casually. “I am working, you know.”

“You have terrible handwriting.”

She shrugged. “I can read it . . . most of the time,” she admitted, smiling up at him. “What, no worshipful lady on your heels?” she asked in amusement.

“Dance with me, vixen,” he said, then took her into his arms without waiting for her answer.

“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting smartly.

“I take it you’re bored.”

“I’ve spent more interesting evenings.”

“I’ll see what I can do to liven things up for you,” he said, whispering into her hair. That set off a series of vibrations that touched every part of her.

“Do you think you’ll be able to tear yourself away?”
she asked, nodding at the women around them who eyed her enviously.

“This is just typical Hollywood party stuff. Doesn’t mean a thing,” he said.

“Uh-oh, here comes another groupie.”

“Rock stars have groupies. I have admirers,” he corrected.

“You seem to have more than that,” she commented wryly.

“Well pretend we don’t see her,” he said, whirling her around past several dancing couples. But there was another eager-looking starlet on the other side. With smiling grace, Shane took her hands from Nick’s and allowed the woman to cut in. She looked on quietly as the starlet smiled appealingly into Nick’s face, her throaty laugh filling the air. Nick must have said something amusing like “hello,” Shane decided.

“Hi, I’ve been watching you.”

Shane looked around to see Miles Donovan, Nick’s costar. He was not quite as tall as Nick and lacked a good deal of his presence, but he could be termed handsome nonetheless. The expression on his face made her think of someone’s cocky younger brother. She imagined it must be hard to be in Nick’s shadow, even for one picture.

Shane extended her hand. “I’m—“

“Shane McCallister. Yes, I know. I make a point of finding things out,” he said. “So, how do you like it so far?” he asked, gesturing toward the milling people. “It’s a little tame for me,” he confided, “but then, this isn’t Hollywood, or Vail, for that matter, so you make do,” he said philosophically, downing his drink quickly and taking another glass from a passing waiter’s tray.

“You go to many parties?” Shane asked, not really interested. By and large, she found small talk boring, even though it was a necessary evil in her line of work.

“As many as I can find. That’s how you get yourself known. Best parts come out of knowing the right people. I met Nick at a party, although he’s a devil of a person to be in the same movie with,” Miles told her, his brown eyes intent on her over the rim of his glass.

“Oh?” Shane asked, warming to the subject. Maybe this malcontent would supply the chink in Nick’s armor for her.

“Sure,” Miles confirmed impatiently. He sounded as if he had had more that just a couple of drinks, she thought. “All the women always flock to him and he gets all the best parts. But he’s not all that good. I figure my day will come. I’m just as good as he is,” he said, jutting out his square chin. “Actually, better,” he said with a leering wink.

“I’m sure you are,” Shane muttered. What she needed was a graceful way to extricate herself.

“Hey, how about dinner tomorrow night?” Miles asked suddenly. “I’ll let you interview me.”

“Thank you very much, but I only do one interview at a time,” she told him, trying to walk away. He made a grab for her arm.

“Here,” he said, shoving a piece of paper at her. “Here’s my number. Should you find old Nick is too busy frolicking to say anything to you, this is where you can reach me.” He pressed the paper into her palm. “Any time.”

Shane took it, promising to call if she had the opportunity. Anything to get rid of him.

Nick came up just then and rescued her, Miles almost slinking away. “He annoying you?” Nick asked, nodding toward Miles.

“No, he’s just trying to make himself known,” she answered.

“Not with you, he’s not,” Nick said. Shane felt a rosy glow spread through her at the sound of those words—despite all her best attempts not to.

The rest of the evening was a haze of faces and bits and pieces of conversations for Shane. Except for Miles, she did not find anyone who had a bad word for Nick. Everyone seemed to like him. It was getting to be a very large club, she thought, as she curled up sleepily next to him in the limousine on their return trip to her hotel. To her surprise, Nick did not ask to come in, but left her at her door with a tender kiss lingering on her lips. She felt somewhat let down as she closed the door behind her.

Sunday turned into an empty, barren day. There were no calls from Nick, no roguish figure appearing at an ungodly hour in her doorway, no plans typed in on the schedule. Nothing. Shane spent it restlessly trying to regroup her thoughts on paper and ran into an incredible case of writer’s block, a malady she had once claimed did not exist.

By Monday morning, some of her spirit was back. She told herself that she had gotten carried away with the aura that hung about Nick Rutledge and had allowed herself to be swept up in the so-called legend.
 

She almost had herself convinced by the time she reached the set, but then she saw him again and her careful facade began to crumble away bit by bit. He stood in the middle of the makeshift set, listening to the director give him last-minute instructions. He looked tired. She sat on a director’s chair and wondered if some late-night tryst had taken its toll on him. She felt a harsh pain and reminded herself firmly that her curiosity was strictly professional!

He caught her eye and came over to her. “Been keeping late hours?” she asked casually.

He dropped into the folding chair next to hers, his long frame stretching out before him. “Yesterday was an incredibly long day,” he said.

“Oh? Tell me about it. I’m all ears,” she said with a slight edge to her voice.