Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (27 page)

“No problem,” Charley said, and glanced at her watch. Time to go already. She stood up. “See you Friday.”

“Brass Rail on Seventh Avenue at six o’clock,” he said.

“Brass Rail at six,” she repeated. She slipped out of the small room and quickly made her way out of the restaurant. She dashed all the way back to the Minskoff.

“Do you always jog at lunch?”

The voice startled her, and Charley swung around just as she was reaching for the rehearsal-hall door. Chalmers was standing a few inches away from her. He was even uglier close up, she thought.

Trying to catch her breath, she explained, “Had some quick shopping to do.” He looked at her empty hands, and she felt compelled to add, “It’s being delivered.” Was he simply asking questions out of curiosity? she wondered. Or was there more to it than that?

But her answer seemed to satisfy him. “Let’s see if you can put some of your enthusiasm for shopping into your acting,” he said. He went through the door first, not bothering to hold it open for her. The man was a prince, Charley thought as she followed him.

Even from a distance she could see faces on stage fall as Chalmers entered.

“All right,” he yelled, “let us continue with this frothy piece of mindless entertainment. Places, everyone!”

Six figures scurried onto the stage, including Allison. Avoiding Reese, who was sitting down front with his script, Charley crept backstage to observe Allison from the wings.

Allison’s acting was nothing to write home about, Charley decided. No wonder she had jumped at the chance for a little extra “help” in reaching her goals. The deal had probably been explained to her in the simplest possible terms. All she had to do to gain success was lead the lovesick congressman to them. Charley doubted that Allison really understood the ramifications of what she was doing. It was clearer than ever that she was just a pawn.

She was also a flirt.

Whenever Allison wasn’t on stage, Charley noticed that the willowy blonde managed to find a reason to be near a male dancer or actor, looking up at him with soulful blue eyes and giving him her radiant smile. Every time she could, Charley joined her, taking part in any conversation that might be going on in the hope that eventually she’d witness some telltale exchange between Allison and one of the cast members. The only thing she did see was something she would have preferred to miss: Reese and Allison deep in conversation in one corner. The sight sent a pang of jealousy through her.

It was a very long day.

Reese was waiting for Charley after rehearsal that evening. He had been well aware that she’d been avoiding him all day, avoiding him even more than she had before. He was trying to be patient and understanding with her, but after their glorious lovemaking last night, her cold-shoulder treatment of him today hurt. He consoled himself by reasoning that she wouldn’t try so hard to ignore him unless he strongly affected her.

As Charley left the backstage area, she was attempting not to think about the lonely evening ahead. Allison had just turned down her offer to go home and rehearse their scenes together, opting instead to have dinner with the leading man, Peter. Even though Charley knew Branigan would keep an eye on Allison, she felt frustrated at the way the case was going.

She also had to deal with Reese. Case or no case, he was the man she wanted to spend the evening with, and he was the last person she should be with. Frowning with dismay at the mess her life was in, she didn’t watch where she was going and almost walked right into Reese.

“You’ve got to stop popping up like this!” she cried when he seemed to appear out of the blue in front of her.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, linking his arm with hers and urging her along. “I’ll stop popping up if you stop darting away.” He held open the door to the street for her. “It’s dinnertime. Want a gourmet meal?”

Her answer should have been no. But she found that when she was around Reese, she didn’t do what she should. “What kind of gourmet meal?” she asked as she allowed herself to be led to the crazy intersection of Broadway and Seventh Avenue.

“Why, New York’s finest, of course,” Reese assured her.

A minute later she watched him approach a hot-dog vendor. A white-haired man attending the cart appeared to have been sitting in his rickety-looking folding chair forever. Overhead an umbrella with alternating blue and yellow stripes proclaimed the integrity of his food. As Reese approached, the man jumped to his feet, his hands poised over the various lids on top of his pushcart.

“What’ll it be, sir?” the vendor asked eagerly.

“Two hot dogs,” Reese said. He looked over his shoulder at Charley. “Still no sauerkraut?”

She made a face. “Still no sauerkraut. Lots of mustard,” she added, just in case his memory wasn’t infallible.

“I only got the hot kind,” the vendor said apologetically, spearing two hot dogs.

“That’s fine,” Charley assured him. Suddenly she was so hungry, she would have eaten the mustard alone. She took two large bites of the hot dog in quick succession and grinned.

“If I’d known you’d smile like that,” Reese said, “I would have bought you a hot dog the first moment I saw you.” He started walking east, across town, and she fell into step with him, chewing contentedly.

“Is that how you intend to get to me?” she asked with a laugh. “By bribery?”

“Any way I can, lady. Any way I can.” He sounded perfectly serious as he said it, despite the smile on his face.

Charley thought it wise to change the subject. “I can remember when these were a dollar,” she said, lifting her hot dog slightly. There was barely enough left to make her point.

“I can remember when you didn’t run from my bed.”

She looked away, staring into an empty storefront with a dusty “For Rent” sign on it. He made it sound as if they had spent a lifetime together. Their relationship had only spanned eight weeks. But eight weeks could be a lifetime in some cases. Had it been in theirs? Was that why she had been so determined to flee?

“I guess all things change,” she said, trying to sound breezy.

“They don’t have to,” he said softly. “At least, not for the worse. They can get better. What are you running from, Charley?” he asked seriously, reaching out to take her hand.

She stopped avoiding his eyes. He’d never believe her if she mumbled the statement to her shoes. “I’m not running from anything.”

She hadn’t fooled him. She could tell by the look in his eyes. But he let the matter drop. “Have it your way. Maybe sixty-five miles an hour is your normal speed. But if you are running from something, Charley,” he added, still holding her hand, “let me run with you. Whatever it is, I want to help.”

The pressure of his hand on hers was so reassuring, so warm. Charley felt guilty deceiving him this way. He obviously thought she was in some kind of trouble. He had no way of knowing that, among other things, she was trying to keep him from harm by avoiding him.

She knew she should go, but she couldn’t get her feet to move in the proper direction.

“I’ll let you know if I need you,” she said with a gentle smile. “Now, don’t worry. There’s nothing wrong. I just have all this nervous energy whenever I get a part. I keep wondering, is this my big break? Things like that.”

He nodded, but he didn’t believe her. “Want another?” he asked, nodding at the mustard-stained napkin she still held.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

He grinned. “Well, at least you’re not an expensive date. Would you like an Orange Julius?” he asked, gesturing to another pushcart. “Then I can say I wined and dined you.” Before she could answer, he was leading her to the Orange Julius stand, where patrons sipped a concoction of orange juice, eggs, and sugar. Charley couldn’t remember when she had tasted anything so good. She moved her straw around the bottom of the tall paper cup, searching for just one more drop of orange juice inside the foamy bubbles.

“When did you say you ate last?” Reese asked teasingly, watching her.

She grew self-conscious. “I just enjoy my food,” she said lamely.

“There is something to be said for enjoying the simple pleasures of life,” he agreed, slipping his hand to the back of her neck. “Up to enjoying a few more pleasures?” he asked innocently.

One glance at his face told Charley he had nothing innocent in mind for her. “Well, I don’t know, Reese. I’ve got a lot of lines to learn for tomorrow ...” It was the same excuse she’d used before, but it was the only one that came to mind.

“You’re not on call tomorrow,” he reminded her.

She had forgotten that he’d written up the schedule for Chalmers. “Yes, that’s true,” she said, not missing a beat despite her error, “but you know me. I like to be prepared. You never know when Chalmers might decide to go ahead and—“

“You’re running again,” Reese said. “Is it me you’re running from?”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly,” she said too quickly.
Was it Reese she was running from?
she asked herself. Deep down, was it fear of making a personal commitment that was driving her away? Yes, yes, she had plenty of neat little excuses all tied up with big red bows, but were they only there to divert her attention from the real reason she hadn’t stayed with Reese in the beginning? Experiencing danger and excitement was one thing. Committing herself to one man forever was quite another. Was she afraid of emotional commitment?

“I’m not running from you,” she said aloud, as if to convince herself. Right at this moment she wasn’t sure about anything.

“I think you are,” he said softly. “I think that’s what made you run away in the first place.”

“I thought you were the stage manager, not the resident psychiatrist.”

“Doesn’t take a psychiatrist to see the signs. A lot of people are afraid of making commitments.”

She looked up at him. “And you’re not?”

“Not to you.”

The warm light in his eyes, the love vibrating in his voice, threatened to melt her, right there in midtown Manhattan. Why had she thrown this away a year ago? Why was she resisting it now? The FBI and looming danger, Max and Allison and the unknown foreign agent, all faded from her consciousness, replaced by the overwhelming love she felt for Reese.

She murmured his name, unaware that she had done so, and suddenly flung her arms around his neck. He held her tightly against him, his face buried in her hair.

“Charley, Charley,” he whispered. “Come home with me. I need you.”

She pushed away from him and looked directly into his eyes. “Yes. I need you too.”

Without hesitation he stepped off the curb to hail a cab. Miraculously, one stopped almost immediately. They didn’t speak the whole way uptown to his apartment building, but simply held hands. It was enough just to be together.

As they walked down the hall to his apartment, Charley thought she would explode from the tension and anticipation. Her anticipation began to dissipate, though, as she watched Reese stuff his hands alternately into his jeans and his jacket pockets.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

“What’s the matter?”

He turned away from his door. “Seems I can’t pull you into my lair as swiftly as I had hoped. I must have left my keys at the theater.” She saw a red tinge of embarrassment color his features, and it endeared him to her all the more.

“How about the super?” she suggested.

He nodded, and they returned to the first floor. But knocking on the superintendent’s door produced nothing but silence. “I guess he’s out,” Reese said. “Want to head back to your place?”

“No, that’s no good,” Charley said firmly. There was no telling when Allison would come back, and Charley knew she couldn’t let Allison find her with Reese. There was one solution to the locked door that wouldn’t involve a trip back to the theater or a possibly long wait for the super.

“C’mon,” she said impetuously. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Reese asked, following her back to the elevator.

“Your apartment.”

“I don’t see what good this is going to do,” he said when they reached his floor again and got out. “The door’s locked. The—“ He stopped as he saw Charley reach into her purse and take out what looked like a thin silver key. Without pausing to answer, she applied the needle to the lock on his door. As he watched in stunned silence, Charley maneuvered the silver needle until the lock clicked open.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked.

She flashed him a quick grin. “Girl Scout manual. They always believe in being prepared.”

“That wasn’t in any Girl Scout manual I ever heard of,” he said, holding the door open.

“Updated version,” she quipped, hoping that he would leave the matter alone.

“Breaking in to collect their cookie money?”

“You got it. Well, you’re in, so I’d better go.” She spun on her heel, ready to flee. She sensed that he was going to come up with a dozen questions that she couldn’t answer at the moment. Scolding herself for her impulsive action, she took a step toward the elevator.

But he caught her arm. “I’m not where I want to be yet,” he said, and the soft tone of his voice melted away any thoughts of flight—at least for the moment.

Chapter Seven

They made love as soon as they were inside the apartment, neither one able to hold back an instant longer. It was a wild, frenzied love-making, spurred on by Charley’s vast inner needs and her fear that the joy she had rediscovered with Reese could not last. In the end, for his own good, she was going to have to leave him again, she told herself. As long as she was involved with the FBI she would be putting him in danger just by being with him.
But could she leave the Bureau
? she asked herself in the sweet aftermath of their loving. Could she lead a normal life somewhere in the country, with a picket fence and creeping ivy? No, she answered miserably. She was not cut out for the safe, dull life. She needed the excitement her career provided, the feeling that her work really mattered.

But that meant giving up Reese.

She squeezed back tears and held him tighter, kissed him harder.

“Hey, hey,” he said, gently removing her arms from around his neck. “What’s the matter?”