Admit One (42 page)

She laughed, entirely without amusement. “So in other words, love is blind? Or maybe I’m just a fool.”

“You’re not a fool, Camellia. You –”

She held up a hand, palm out. “Stop. Just… stop.”

Will stopped. “I’m sorry,” he told her.

“No, I asked for it, didn’t I.” She looked out the window again, then back at him. “And I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d like to be alone now.”

Will figured as much. He stood up, wiped away the spilled coffee, and cleared their mugs and plates from the table.

“I’ll show myself out.”

She nodded.

“If there’s anything I can do…”

“I have your number.”

Well then. “Take care.”

Will went back out through the laundry room, glancing at a little boy’s happy painting of castles and unicorns.

Too bad, he thought as he shut the door, that real life so often sucked.

ALLIE
walked out onto the stage, and saw Bran sitting in one of the wing-back chairs they used as props.

“Hey.”

He looked up from the piece of paper he’d been reading, beckoned her over. “Hey yourself.”

She crossed the stage, perched on the arm of the chair. “What are you reading?”

“Letters,” he said, then looked up at her quizzically. “I thought you’d read these already.”

“Why… oh,” she said as she noticed the box sitting on the floor at his feet. The box she’d taken from the attic and – given how chaotic her life became at that point – promptly forgotten about. “No. It had some sort of trick locking mechanism and I couldn’t figure out how to get it open. But there are letters?” Delight colored her voice. “Do any of them mention Eugene?”

Bran’s mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. “You could say that. Here.” He handed over the letter he’d been reading. Allie took it carefully by the corners so as to not smear the ink or tear the yellowed paper.

My Dearest Eugene…

Allie read through the poignant, eloquent declaration of affection returned, of secret trysts in moonlit gardens, of longing glances across crowded rooms. Eugene, it seemed, had been heavily embroiled in a clandestine love affair.

Feeling a bit like a voyeur, but unable to stop herself from reading further, Allie found her eyes getting a little misty at the tenderness of the passion expressed. When she reached the signature at the end, her brows shot up.

She glanced at her brother. “I guess now we know why Dellis Hawbaker had a falling out with his son.”

“Looks that way,” Bran agreed. “I guess I should count myself lucky that I wasn’t born in the nineteenth century. Dad may have been shocked and dismayed when I declared my sexual orientation over Josie’s pot roast one night, but at least he didn’t kick me out of the house and disinherit me.”

Allie squeezed his shoulder.  “You know he loves you, just the way you are. He made that point very clear before he got sick.”

Bran waved an elegant hand. “I know. I’m just being maudlin, I guess. It seems horribly unfair that Eugene found what appeared to be a deep and abiding love only to be cut down mere months later.”

Abiding,
Allie thought, was an accurate description. “He never married, you know. Frank Wallace,” she explained when Bran arched a brow in inquiry. “That would have been very unusual for that time, even for a gay man. Especially for a man who was the only son and heir to the family plantation. It passed to a cousin after he died.”

“You researched him.”

“It was an interesting story. Even before I knew exactly how deep their bond went.” She handed Bran the letter and he very carefully placed it back in the box.

“You should read the rest of them,” he told her. “There’s one in there from Frank to Catherine, Eugene’s mother. Informing her that her son had died. Eugene’s father may have disowned him, but his mother cared enough to save these letters, to hide them away so that his father couldn’t have them destroyed.”

“They were his heart,” Allie said. “A mother – a
normal
mother,” she added, because their own mother certainly wasn’t a good example “would have wanted to keep that part of him alive, I suspect.”

“Speaking of hearts,” Bran murmured, and Allie glanced up to see Mason at the back of the theater, leaning against one of the doorframes that led to the lobby.

Joy filled her.

In the two weeks since that night in the garden, they’d been virtually inseparable, though she hadn’t seen him for the past few days. He and Tucker had driven down to Florida to pick up some mystery item that Tucker had bought for Sarah for their upcoming wedding. He looked tanned and healthy and more gorgeous than any man had a right. And he was hers. Just as she was very much his.

“I believe that’s my cue to exit stage left,” Bran said a little more loudly.

“What? No, you don’t have to –”

“Don’t argue with a professional, Allison,” Mason said as he moved down the aisle. “A good actor always recognizes his cue. Branson,” he said in greeting.

“Mason,” Bran said in just the same tone. “Good to see you. You’ll have to tell me all about your trip tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Allie said, glancing between them.

“Poker night,” Bran explained, while Mason looked pained. “And no, he can’t get out of it. Which is why I’m vacating the premises so that y’all can get reacquainted.” He scooped up the box of letters, squeezing Allie on the shoulder on the way out.

She turned her attention to Mason. “I thought you got taken to the cleaners the last time you played poker with my brothers.”

“I did. But,” he added, leaning against the stage. “That’s only because I let them win. You’ll recall that it was in the hallway outside your room that I bumped into Will – almost literally – prompting the invitation. Considering it was still shy of seven a.m. and it was clear that I’d been attempting to leave your room without attracting notice, it seemed prudent not to take their money along with their sister’s virtue.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “This isn’t the Victorian era, you know. I can have sex if I want to.”

“A societal advance that I find entirely beneficial.”

“I’ll just bet you do. Although I’m pretty sure that men in the nineteenth century didn’t suffer from a lack of readily available women. Aside from prostitutes, quite a few upper class men had mistresses. I believe it was even something of a social coup to be the mistress of a member of the nobility.”

“Is that so?” Mason lofted that single eyebrow, sending Allie’s pulse galloping along like a Triple Crown contender. “Perhaps you would like to… negotiate for such a position.”

With his hair tied back, his expression haughty, and his accent so deliciously crisp, Allie had no trouble whatsoever envisioning him as a debauched Duke in search of new female companionship.   

“You don’t still happen to have access to the costume from your last movie, do you? The one with the tight pants and knee high boots?”

His eyes flickered with something, either amusement or lust, she couldn’t tell.  “Why madam,” he said sticking to his character “you do astonish me with your forwardness.”

“Seems like it would be a beneficial trait in a mistress.”

“You’re hired.” Leaning on his palm, Mason hoisted himself onto the stage. Allie slid into the seat of the chair, simply enjoying the spectacle of him striding toward her with that single-minded look on his matinee idol face.

“Do you have a list of expectations, my lord?”

He stopped in front of her, hands clasped behind his back, and looked her up and down with insouciance. “First, you should always address me in that manner. Especially when I’m inside you.”

“I’ve been known to cry out
Oh, God.
I hope that won’t cause undue confusion.”

His eyes flickered again – that was definitely amusement – but being the consummate professional that he was, he managed to keep a stiff upper lip. And unless she was mistaken, that wasn’t all that appeared to be getting stiff.

“Is that a riding crop in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

This time he did laugh, and then he placed his hands on the arms of the chair, caging her against the back.

“I’m very happy to see you. Delighted, in fact.”

He then proved it by kissing her with a thoroughness that left her glad she was already sitting. Her knees seemed to have dissolved.

Mason tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I missed you.”

“Ditto, Sparky.”

“Sparky?”

“I’m saving the
my lord
for when you’re wearing boots.”

“I’ll order a pair tonight.”

He tugged her to standing, then sat down in the chair and pulled her onto his lap, where he proceeded to provide further evidence that he really was happy to see her.

“I love you,” he murmured when they came up for air.

“I love you, too.”

“Enough to put up with potentially lengthy separations?”

“What?”

“It’s inevitable,” he sighed. “I told you that I’ve contracted for another film. Shooting starts shortly after Sarah and Tucker’s wedding.”

“I remember,” Allie said, because honestly, how could she forget? “I don’t want to think about that yet.”

“Nor do I, but we have to, darling. We don’t have all that much time. I just wanted to know if you’re willing to… tolerate the pitfalls of being involved with an actor. Particularly an actor who does most of his work across the pond. I’ll be here as much as I can, and I’d love for you to come visit me whenever you can get time away from your obligations here, but… I understand if it’s too much to ask.”

Her brows drew together. “Let me get this straight. I love you. You love me. We’ve established that. But you understand if I’m some big weenie that can’t handle ‘the pitfalls’ of loving you?”

His lips quirked. “Far be it from me to imply you’re a ‘weenie.’”

“Exactly,” she huffed. But then she grew more serious. “Mason, I knew going into this that you’re an actor. I understand that fame isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be. I know that separation is difficult on any relationship, let alone one where one of the people involved is faced with… temptations –”

“Allison.” He took her hand in his. “If you believe anything about me, believe that other women, be it co-workers or fans or whatever, will not be one of those pitfalls with which I am asking you to deal. I’ve been there, done that, as they say. And I don’t even want the T-shirt.”

Allie couldn’t help but smile. “Then I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear it. So,” he added, his tone considerably more casual.  “You do recall the first time I kissed you.”

He knew that she did. “Falling into the supply closet beneath a hail of paper towels is one of my fondest memories.”

“I was wondering,” he said, toying with her fingers “if –since I blew that audition – I might persuade you to allow me another chance.”

“Another chance at a first kiss? I’m pretty sure that horse is not only out of the barn, but it’s already in the next county.”

“I meant another chance at the supply cupboard.”

“I’ve heard of the casting couch, but never of the casting closet.”

“We can start a new trend.”

Allie raised her brows. Mason arched one of his. “You know I’ll agree to anything when you do that, right?”

“Why do you think I practice it in the mirror every night?”

She laughed, and then climbing from his lap, offered him her hand. He slipped something into it.

“What’s this?” she said, examining the ticket.
Admit One
it said.

“I’m hoping, if I pass the audition that is, that you’ll stick around for the show.  Fair warning, though. It looks like it will be… long-running.”

She looked up at him. “How long have you had that planned?”

“Improv,” he said. “I picked the ticket up off the floor in the lobby.”

“You’re good,” she admitted.

“Do you think so?” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Just wait until I get my boots.”

Thanks for reading!  Connect with me online at:

www.lisaclarkoneill.com

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lisa-Clark-ONeill-Novelist/287773574604107?fref=nf

Twitter:
https://twitter.com/LisaClarkONeill

If you haven’t yet read Mr. Write, the first book in the Sweetwater trilogy, you can find it here:
http://www.amazon.com/Write-Sweetwater-Lisa-Clark-ONeill-ebook/dp/B00K58FV7E/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1399336310&sr=1-1&keywords=Mr.+Write+lisa+clark+o%27neill

And if you love Sweetwater, you might also enjoy the Southern Comfort series. You can download a free sample of Serendipity, the first book in the series, here:
http://www.amazon.com/Serendipity-Southern-Comfort-Book-1-ebook/dp/B008YMC8HY/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1411244942&sr=1-1&keywords=serendipity+lisa+clark+o%27neill