The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge (68 page)

He went into the kitchen and returned with the bottle in one hand, two wineglasses in the other, and a towel over his shoulder.

“I’m afraid we’re out of flutes this week.” He set the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table, where a brochure for a conference sponsored by the Veterinary Emergency and Critical Care Society sat atop a copy of
Small Animal Internal Medicine
, which sat crosswise on a pet supply catalog, and a copy of
Kirk’s Current Veterinary Therapy
. “Let me just move this stuff …”

He stacked the books and papers on the floor, then proceeded to open the bottle. The cork flew out and was caught in the towel he’d draped over the top of the bottle.

“Which of your good fortunes should we toast first?” he asked as he poured into both glasses.

“I think my divorce first, because that’s a solemn thing and it closes a door,” she said thoughtfully. “Then we’ll celebrate me getting the film rights to my favorite book, because that’s a door that is just starting to open.”

“That’s what we’ll do, then.” Grant lifted both glasses, handing one to Dallas. “Here’s to closing some doors and opening others.”

“I like that.” She nodded.

They touched glasses and each took a sip.

“Let’s hope those doors that are opening for you
will lead to better things.” He sat next to her on the sofa. “Now, which do you want to tell me about first?”

Dallas shrugged. “There’s not so much to say about Emilio that you couldn’t read in any tabloid or celebrity magazine.”

“I don’t bother with that stuff. The raciest thing I’ve had time to read lately was
The Manual of Equine Reproduction
.”

Dallas laughed. “Really, there’s not too much to tell—you already know the story. I guess I was hoping for Cody’s sake that things would turn around, but they never did.” She leaned back against his arm, which was draped over the back of the sofa. His skin was warm and comforting through her knit dress. “In retrospect, I was totally stupid through the whole tawdry thing. I should have divorced him when I realized that he hadn’t married me for the right reasons, but for a while it was easier to just go on pretending that things were just skippy.”

“So now it’s done.”

Dallas nodded. “Now it’s done. Norma, my attorney, called late this afternoon to tell me that the judge had approved the property distribution that we’d all signed off on, so yes. It’s done.” She took another sip of champagne. “I guess I could have moved this along more quickly and it would have been official before now, but I was in a rut, I suppose.” She smiled. “You know what they say about the path of least resistance.”

“But now on to happy things. You’re going to make a movie.”

“Well, I’m not going to make the movie,” she corrected him. “I’m going to write the screenplay, and I would like to direct, assuming I get financial backing for it. That’s an involved process but Norma thinks it won’t be difficult to get a studio on board. Especially if I can talk Berry into playing one of the roles. I haven’t discussed it with her yet, but I plan on doing that tomorrow.”

“That would make a difference?”

“A gigantic difference. Berry was a big box office draw for a long time, and she hasn’t made a film in almost fifteen years. She’s always being offered parts, but she just hasn’t wanted to. If she’d do it for this one, though, it could be huge.”

“What if you don’t get the backing?”

“I guess I’d have to consider financing it myself. I hadn’t thought seriously about that, but I’d do it.” She thought for another moment, then added, “A lot of independent films have done very well; there’s no reason why this one wouldn’t. Especially if Berry were signed on as a lead.”

“I’ve seen her movies,” he told her. “My parents had them all on video. I had yours—I think I told you that? Video tapes first, then DVDs.”

“You had both?”

“All of ’em.” He nodded somewhat shyly. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Does that make me sound like a stalker?”

“Not as long as you didn’t sit in a dark room, all by yourself, while you were watching.”

Grant looked at the ceiling.

“Tell me you didn’t …”

“No, I didn’t. And mostly I just wanted to see you, to see how you were doing. It always felt so strange, to see your face there on the TV screen. As time went on, and we both got older, it was more to see how you were—” He stopped abruptly.

“How I was …” She gestured for him to continue. “How I was what?”

“I was going to say ‘aging’ but I don’t think that would be wise.” He frowned. “It’s probably not the right word.”

“You could probably find a better one,” she agreed, laughing in spite of herself.

“How about, I wanted to see how you changed over the years? Does that sound better?”

“It’ll do.” She nodded. “So, have I changed all that much?”

“Not so much.” Grant shook his head. “Your face looks surprisingly like it did when you were a kid, but better.” He paused. “Not that you didn’t look really great when you were in your teens. I didn’t mean …”

“I didn’t think you did.” She couldn’t help but smile. He was trying so hard not to offend her.

“My mom would say that you grew into your looks. Actually, my mom did say that about you.”

“She did?”

“She saw one of those award shows where they do the red carpet thing, and told me about it the next day. She said you had on a really pretty long dress and that you looked really big-time Hollywood but she could tell it was you, all grown up.” The hand that had rested on the back of the sofa reached out and touched the back of her neck, his fingers tracing a circle.
“I guess that’s a really different way of life, your life out there, as compared to here.”

“As different as night and day in some respects, not so very much in others. When I first moved out there, I was dying to be part of it, you know? I couldn’t wait to get dressed up in fabulous designer gowns and jewelry and be interviewed on the red carpet. And the first few times, it was a lot of fun, I won’t deny it. But as time went on, and I had Cody, I wanted to be around the house more and more. I came to look upon the roles I played as nothing more than that: roles I played because it was my job. I enjoy doing it—I love doing it—I really believe this was what I was born to do. But it’s my job, not my life. I care more about the films that I make than I do for the rest of it—the parties and the gossip and the chatter—who’s been seen with whom and who does your hair and who’s your stylist and who’s your personal trainer and how many houses do you own and—” She stopped. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just that the trappings grow old, if you’re smart enough to let them. I’m getting to the age where the best roles are going to be offered to actors who are younger than I, so there aren’t quite as many parts as there were ten years ago. I’ve made enough money that I can pick and choose among those that do come my way. I can honestly say that working on this screenplay has given me a renewed interest in the business, but from a different perspective.”

“Do you think you’d want to do more screenplays?”

“Absolutely. I have an idea for one, an original story, that I want to work on as soon as this one is finished. And I’m hoping—”

“Dad?” The front door flew open and Paige bounded in. The dogs, roused from sleeping in the kitchen, sauntered in to greet her, tails wagging furiously. “Can I sleep at Steffie’s? She wants me to work in the morning so she can show me how to make …”

Paige’s forward motion stopped at the living-room door.

“Oh,” she said when she saw her father and Dallas seated on the sofa.

“Hey, Paige.” Grant turned around.

“Hi, Paige,” Dallas said.

“Hey, guys.” Steffie stopped to give each dog its due, then followed Paige into the room. Where Paige had looked flummoxed, Steffie appeared amused. “Oooh, champagne. What’s the occasion?” She picked up the bottle and looked at the label. “Nice. Must be something big.”

“Dallas met a few milestones today,” Grant said.

“Anything you can talk about in front of the
c-h-i-l-d
?” Steffie asked.

“Very funny.” Paige made a face at her aunt.

“I made an offer for some film rights on a book I read and fell in love with, and the offer was accepted.” Dallas thought perhaps the short version was best. “And my divorce was granted.”

“Swell,” Paige muttered, then plunked herself down on the end of the sofa.

“Paige, run and get your stuff,” Steffie told her. “We’re going to have an early morning and a long day. I’m doing a new flavor tomorrow and that always takes me longer, so if you want to learn the ropes, you’re going to have to be up bright and early. The plan is up at five, in the shop by six.”

“Maybe I changed my mind about staying over,” Paige said. “Maybe I’ll come over in the morning.”

“Maybe you’ll get your butt upstairs and get your things, or maybe I’ll have someone else work instead of you tomorrow, which means that someone else will be earning all those lovely dollars that could have been yours and learning my secret formulas.”

“You only boss me around because I’m a kid.” Paige got up and stomped into the hall and up the steps.

“I pay you the same as I pay everyone else, which gives me the right to equally boss everyone who works for me,” Steffie called after her. “I even let you have a share in the tips today, so don’t overplay your hand, missy.”

“I’m going,” Paige called from the second floor.

“So, you’re celebrating.” Steffie sat on the sofa arm that Paige had vacated.

Dallas nodded.

“Thanks for letting Paige work with you, Stef.” Grant turned and looked at his younger sister.

“It’s the least I can do.” Steffie leaned around him to ask Dallas, “So what’s the book about?”

Dallas proceeded to outline the story. She’d just finished when Paige came down the steps, a canvas bag over her shoulder.

“Got everything?” Grant asked, and she nodded. “Give the old man a kiss and say good night to Dallas.”

Paige leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed her father on the cheek. “Good night, Dallas.”

“Good night, Paige. Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow
at Scoop. I’m not sure I’ve met my weekly allotment of fat and calories yet,” Dallas told her.

“I have a new flavor I’m trying tomorrow.” Steffie picked up the champagne bottle again. “I wonder how champagne ice cream would taste?”

“I think the alcohol might interfere with the freezing process, but I’m not a chemist, so I could be wrong,” Grant said.

“But the flavor of the champagne … hmm, maybe with some peach … or cherry …” Steffie’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have to work on that.”

“See you both tomorrow.” Grant rose and walked them to the door.

“See you, Dallas.” Steffie waved.

“Good night, Stef,” Dallas called back.

As Grant was closing the door behind them, he heard Paige ask Steffie, “Do you think they’re going to have sex? I think they’re going to have sex.…”

Grant laughed self-consciously and sat back down on the couch.

“Where were we?” he asked.

“Well, according to Paige, apparently …”

“Oh, you did hear her. I was hoping … Well, you never know what’s going to come out of your kid’s—”

Dallas reached over and pulled his arm to bring him closer, then met his mouth with hers, brushing his bottom lip with hers. His hand went to the back of her head and drew her to him, his tongue teasing her top lip. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head, inviting him to kiss her more deeply. This was what she had wanted, what she’d been missing, what she needed, and she was done
with trying to convince herself that things could ever be other than this between them. His tongue darted from one side of her mouth to the other, stoking a fire that had been dormant for a long time, and she felt the heat all through her body. His hands were on either side of her face, holding her as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go, and kissing her as if his life depended on it. Her head spun and her breath caught in her throat and she was sure she was drowning. The need to have him closer, closer, was overwhelming, and she lay back on the sofa and took him with her.

The weight of his body was both familiar and strange. They seemed to fit together in much the same way they once had, but now he was leaner, harder, more muscular, than he’d been at eighteen. His hands found her breasts and stroked her through the knitted fabric of her dress until she couldn’t wait any longer to have those hands on her skin. She tugged at the dress and he slipped a hand under it, stroking her skin from her knee to her breast and back again. His lips made a trail from her mouth to the side of her face, to her chin and her throat, her neck to her collarbone. She struggled to get the dress up higher, then when she started to pull it over her head, Grant cleared his throat and said, “Shades. Should … pull them. Maybe hit that light …” and for a moment, he was gone. She heard the shades being drawn, saw the hall light go out, and the room darkened a bit when he turned off the overhead light.

“Not very romantic,” he explained as he came back to the sofa, unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his jeans. He lowered himself to her and kissed her as
he slipped the straps from her bra over her shoulders, and she reached behind her to unhook it.

“Pretty,” he said as he tossed the lacy garment over his shoulder. “I always liked that you wore lacy things.”

And then his mouth and hands were at work again, and she arched eagerly at his touch. When his lips settled on her breast, she gasped and ran her fingers through his hair, and begged him to take more of her, to take all of her. His tongue flicked at her skin without mercy and shot a steady bolt of fire to her core, and she mindlessly ground against him and urged him on by wrapping her legs around him and drawing him in. She moaned softly when he entered her and raised her hips to meet his. He let her set the pace and she knew she should slow it down, take her time, but she was powerless to stop the wave that had begun to roll through her and took them down along a long spiral path that shattered them both and left them breathless.

“Holy …” Grant gasped.

“Amen.” She put her head back and fought for breath.