Least Likely Wedding? Page 3

  Max and Suz looked interested, but they, too, retreated to the doorway. That left his sister.

  “Rob? Are you okay?”

  “Sure, Fran.” He turned away from her concerned eyes, and toward the actress Laura. The woman he needed to kiss for the camera. “Let’s get this finished.”

  And he hoped to God his eyebrows would grow back fast this time.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Brice projected his voice down the hallway, drawing every eye to his outraged stance. Sure, this role he got into.

  But under her irritation, Kay felt a trickle of relief.

  The actor’s return provided a distraction. Though not enough to wipe out the memory of Rob Dalton’s eyes as she came down the stairs. Not enough to wipe out flames still popping through her bloodstream from the touch of his lips. And definitely not enough to wipe out the sensation of his mouth on hers.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on, Brice. We’re finishing this shoot. Without you. Despite your best efforts to torpedo this project, we’re just fine thanks to great help from a stand-in.”

  “Stand-in? You can’t do that. I have a contract.”

  “A contract you broke. Anyone who turns his back on his colleagues that way—”

  “I’m SAG. All I have to do is turn you in to the union and you’ll never work in this town again no matter how much money your family has!”

  His threat lacked bite since they were in Tobias, Wisconsin, not exactly a hotbed of film production. But she got the gist.

  “You want to talk about not working again? I already checked—”

  “You can’t do this. There are rules—”

  “I can’t do it? You can’t do it! There are a million things more important than rules. Like loyalty. Nobody likes a snitch, Brice, and that’s what you are at heart—a weaselly, turncoat snitch. Besides, I contacted SAG and they told me how to keep this official. There’s a fax waiting for you at your agent’s office.”

  Bless Rob Dalton for insisting she do all that; he’d also signed a statement waiving any pay or credit. She half turned to smile at him. He was staring at her, his face blank, his eyes narrow.

  She might have liked time to consider that expression but Brice broke his superior stance and hurried toward her.

  “You need me. Nobody can stand in for me. I’m the only one on this shoot who’s a real pro. Not some rich girl wannabe who only got a job because her daddy’s buddies with somebody.”

  There it was—the all too familiar slam. If she had an opportunity, she must have bought it one way or another. It followed her no matter how hard she worked.

  Although the idea that her father helped her get a job almost made it laughable. Almost.

  “We’ll do just fine without you, Brice.”

  “I was in a feature film!”

  Hands on hips, she stood her ground. “You had two words. It’s time.”

  “I can’t help it if some damned editor left the best part on the cutting room floor.”

  He was still yelling, and the volume was giving her a headache.

  “Look, Brice, when you get back to New York, talk to your agent.” Who’d muttered a few choice things about Brice when Kay had called him. “Right now, we have to finish and get these folks out of here.”

  “I get it.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Like I said, I’m a pro. And I’ll take your word that you’ll make good on what I should have gotten. So I’ll get in costume and we can finish this piece of—”

  “No.”

  That ego of his was like a blindfold. A niggle of something familiar scratched at her consciousness, but she had too much else to handle at the moment to let it in.

  “You walked away, and I won’t have you back, Brice,” she said without heat. “We’re going to finish with Rob. So go. Leave.”

  She saw the light of understanding hit his eyes, immediately followed by anger.

  “You can’t do that to me. I’ll make you pay. And all your money won’t—”

  Rob stepped between them. The move was nothing flashy, nothing flagrant, but suddenly he was there between Brice and her. She hadn’t even been aware of him moving from the base of the stairs where he’d seemed rooted since The Kiss.

  She pushed at Rob’s arm so she could edge in front of him. He didn’t budge.

  “I was thinking the same thing about you,” he said to Brice.

  “Wha—?”

  “That you would pay.”

  She stepped around Rob. She might have grabbed the conversational reins at the point. But she had to admit to being curious about his approach.

  “Yeah?” Brice pushed his face forward. Kay would have been tempted to slug him. Rob apparently wasn’t as easily tempted; he simply held his ground. “Who’s going to make me pay?”

  “Whoever you signed a contract with,” Rob said. “Not only should you not be paid, you should be sued for failure to perform and—”

  “I performed. I performed plenty.”

  “Failure to perform in the legal sense. Failure to fulfill your contract.”

  The prompt reply seemed to flummox Brice. “You some kind of lawyer?”

  “No. However—”

  “I figured. And let me tell you, buddy—there’da been no trouble with me finishing if it hadn’ta taken so damned long.” Brice’s native accent reasserted itself. “That’s from amateur directing. Only a stupid rich bitch amateur woulda dragged us out to God knows where, woulda put together a crappy crew and woulda used a no-name broad for the supporting role. I’m—”

  “Supporting!” Laura squawked from the background. “The bride’s the lead!”

  “—the only thing goin’ for this damned mess—”

  “Yet you withdrew support when you felt it would impede the project irrevocably.” Rob shook his head in sorrow, and to Kay’s mind it was the best piece of acting she’d seen all day. “That’s another problem. In fact, Bliss House should look into suing you for alienation of income, since your failure to perform could prevent the receipt of monies expected by the organization. Tobias could have a claim against you on that basis, too.”

  “Hey, you said you weren’t a lawyer.”

  “I’m not, but I have dealt with similar cases from the financial end, and I am on the Bliss House steering committee, so…”

  “And I’m Tobias’s town manager.” One of Rob’s friends, the man in chinos and a blue oxford cloth shirt, stepped forward, the one Miss Trudi had said married dark-haired Annette earlier this summer. “As well as on the committee.”

  “The Bliss House committee will certainly consider the damage you’ve done to its prospects,” said the woman with the sun-streaked hair. Suz, according to Miss Trudi. The big guy in jeans looked around like he dared anyone to disagree with her. That was Max Trevetti. “And Rob has something there about damage to Tobias, don’t you agree, Steve?”

  “Absolutely. In the meantime, since we have the Bliss House committee here—” Steve gestured to the others “—we can start that now.”

  They chorused agreement.

  Brice looked to the crew, apparently seeking support. Unfortunately for him, they did not have short-term memory loss, and recalled his crappy crew comment. He swore savagely.

  “I’m getting out of this hick town,” he snapped. Ah, but he couldn’t resist an exit flourish. “Come find me in New York when you discover you can’t do this without me.”

  He’d barely cleared the door frame when Kay called out to the crew. “Take ten to set up and then we’re going to finish this. Let’s go!”

  While Jeff and the makeup person fussed around Laura, and the technical types got busy, Kay faced the Tobias group.

  “Was any of that for real?”

  “Not a word.” Rob’s eyes were bright, but his expression remained solemn.

  “I don’t know. There were some good words in there,” Steve Corbett said, grinning. “But alienation of income, Dalton? That was brilliant.”

 
; Kay laughed with them. “Well, thank you.” With a conscious effort, she widened her appreciation beyond Rob. “Thank you all.”

  “Glad to do our part to keep that location fee,” said Annette Corbett.

  “Speaking of which, we should let you get ready,” Rob said.

  She thanked them again. But before she could move to check on the crew’s progress, Miss Trudi tucked a hand in her arm.

  “You gave that young man quite a stern talking to, Kay.”

  It seemed to Kay the sternest talking had come from Rob. “He deserved it. Deserter. He betrayed all of us.”

  “Yes, you were quite clear in your opinion of his loyalty.”

  “What loyalty? He couldn’t wait to try to snitch.”

  Miss Trudi wasn’t looking at her anymore. Kay traced the woman’s gaze to Rob, who turned away, but not quite fast enough. Kay was certain he’d been looking at her, a certainty that had nothing to do with vanity.

  It wasn’t that kind of look.

  Which was irksome considering her hormones hadn’t yet pulled into the garage and turned off the ignition after their kiss. Nope, they were still revving their engines like cabbies who’d actually stopped at a red light.

  Miss Trudi patted her hand. “This is all so interesting,” she said before floating off.

  “Ready when you are, Kay,” the cameraman called.

  She squared her shoulders. “Ready.”

  The tape, the cast, the crew and the bulk of the equipment were packed off for their return to New York, and the shoot was completed.

  Successfully completed, if a little unorthodoxly. A lot unorthodoxly, if you counted the director and the stand-in actor wrapped in one another’s arms and their mouths—

  No, she’d be gone soon, and whatever that had been would stay here in Wisconsin.

  All she had to do was fulfill whatever Miss Trudi wanted as a quid pro quo for finding Rob, and she could be on her way home…. Well, back to Manhattan, anyway, since she no longer had a home.

  She couldn’t move back to her parents’, that was for sure. Not when they were still distraught that she’d broken her engagement to Barry last winter. Distraught? How about ticked, outraged or horrified?

  She straightened from zipping a tote bag. After she’d packed the equipment and people into the rented bus for the return to O’Hare, she’d gone through Bliss House and gathered everything left behind, bringing it to the patio to sort in the waning daylight.

  Two tote bags, a sweater, three hairbrushes, a roll of heavy-duty extension cord, enough magazines to stock a newsstand, two books and a cell phone. Along with her tote, she would have a hefty load when she walked to the motel, since the departure of the bus left her without wheels. Unless she called a cab? It hadn’t seemed far and carrying this stuff might be good practice for being a vagrant when she got back to New York. Even with her trustfund income increasing her options, finding an apartment was not going to happen in an afternoon.

  Any of a half-dozen friends would take her in. But then they’d tell her how stupid she was for letting Barry take over the apartment now that he’d returned from six months in Argentina.

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about in calling off the wedding. Even if you did, that apartment is way, way too much to assuage any guilt, especially over Barry. Giving up a place in a great building in the Upper East Side—that’s crazy!” her friend Gail had said, encapsulating the argument that came from all her friends.

  They didn’t understand that, yes, she did have reason to feel guilty and, no, the apartment wasn’t too much. Especially since she’d never particularly liked the place her parents had picked out. She would have preferred a brownstone in Hell’s Kitchen.

  But she couldn’t tell them that, either. She wouldn’t go to her friends and she couldn’t go to her parents. That left…

  Dora.

  No. It was too tentative, this talking again with Dora. It might not last. Their relationship might not ever deepen beyond what it was now…whatever that was. Plus, if she moved in with Dora, she couldn’t tell her parents where she was living. Ever.

  She’d just have to find another solution to her homelessness. After all, she had a couple hours travel to O’Hare and a couple hours in flight, not to mention airport time. Surely she’d come up with a solution by then.

  But first, she’d deal with this little matter of repaying Miss Trudi for finding Rob Dalton to step in.

  Step in… The way he had stepped in to kiss her.

  And there it was, the heat sweeping back through her like someone had turned on a blast furnace.

  She felt as she had when she was a kid watching the fire in the fireplace in Dora’s studio. Watching it and wanting to reach for it—knowing it could burn. That knowledge had never dimmed the glow or the fascination of the endlessly changing flames.

  That’s what kissing Rob had felt like. Fascinating. And endless. As endless as a single public kiss—in front of an audience, no less—could be. Actually, it had felt short. It was what it had promised that was endless.

  He’d followed her direction and advanced one step to take her hand, but from there their movements had been ad-libbed. Using his hold on her hand to draw her in to his embrace—like she’d needed a lot of drawing—and guiding her hand around his neck—like she’d needed a lot of guiding.

  He’d bent a little, and she’d stretched up. But when their mouths had met, it had been a perfect fit.

  So perfect that it had been entirely natural to part her lips. His tongue immediately possessed her mouth and unmistakable sensations shot through her. If the onlookers hadn’t made enough noise to penetrate the buzz of desire, she would have had him out of that suit and—

  “Kay?”

  She jumped and spun around.

  Rob held his hands up in surrender, but didn’t retreat. “Sorry to scare you. I should’ve realized you’d be jumpy after that run-in with Brice.”

  “It’s okay.” She didn’t disabuse him of the notion that she’d jumped because she’d thought it was Brice, when in fact she’d jumped because she knew it was Rob. “What’s up?”

  She’d half expected never to see him again. During the remainder of the shoot, he’d been cooperative, professional and distant.

  “I wanted to say goodbye. Wasn’t sure when you’re leaving.”

  “Not until an 8:00 a.m. airport shuttle, so that’s another—” she checked her watch “—twelve hours.”

  “Your timing’s off. It’s nearly thirteen hours until eight. You’re probably still on East Coast time.” He stepped toward her. Did that look mean that her hormones hadn’t been doing the samba alone? “Listen, about that scene. Showing how to play it. And—”

  “Guess I got too much into the role, huh?”

  The blaze from the setting sun hit the right side of his face like an overexposed key light, making it almost as hard to see his expression there as on the deeply shadowed side. It also highlighted the strength of his neck, which looked even better in a T-shirt than it had in the costume.

  Damn. Why did this happen when she had only one night. Although…that might make this the perfect situation. No emotions, just sexual chemistry. No complications, no expectations, no chance of disappointing him. Less chance, anyway.

  Oh, what the hell…

  “That was a lie. It wasn’t the role,” she said. Ca-ching! Was that her heart? She never remembered it doing this ba-bam percussion before. She sucked in a breath. “Listen, I’m heading back to New York in the morning, and it’s not like we’re going to see each other again, and maybe some of it was because I hadn’t been kissed in…well, months. Not since my fiancé—”

  He stepped back. “Fiancé?”

  “Yes. Fiancé.” Don’t slow me up with details. She’d been working toward saying she wouldn’t mind spending her last hours in Tobias doing a few reruns of that kiss, and he was burning time by harping on Barry?

  “You’re engaged.”

  She heard the flatness of disap
pointment in his words, and her spirits lifted.

  “No, no.” She waved one hand. The left one, bare of rings. “I’m not engaged. Not anymore.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Damn, they didn’t have all that much time. She didn’t want to waste any of it dismantling this hurdle when they could sail over it.

  “It’s simple,” she said. “I was engaged at the time I was telling you about—the last time I was kissed. Since then, the engagement ended.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh. It’s not—I mean, I wasn’t heartbroken or…I don’t deserve sympathy—my parents would certainly tell you that. I was the one who called it off.” She dropped her head to dig in her tote for a bottled water. “My parents…they love Barry.”

  She wished he’d say something. His silence wasn’t good silence, like he was hanging on her every word. It was more like he’d braced himself for what came next.

  “Barry’s a great guy,” she concluded. “Really great.”

  “Then why did you break off the engagement?”

  “Hmm? Oh. Uh.” She shrugged. “Because if I hadn’t, we would have been married in twelve days.”

  “You dumped him less than two weeks before your wedding?”

  Okay, the tone of his voice was not good. This was going downhill fast. What had happened to their easygoing camaraderie from earlier today?

  “I was incredibly stupid about the whole thing. If I’d called it off sooner, I would have spared everyone a lot of trouble and embarrassment, not to mention money.” She waved a hand. The one with the water bottle in it. Some slopped over. “Nonrefundable deposits all over the place. Not that calling if off earlier would have satisfied my parents. They were all for me marrying Barry. He’s a great guy. Just not the right guy for me.”

  Which she should have realized far earlier. Barry was the same guy he’d always been—unobjectionable, pleasant and as communicative as a blank wall.

  She backtracked mentally, to how they’d gotten on the topic of Barry. Oh, yeah. “To tell the truth, there wasn’t a lot of kissing going on before my engagement ended, either. So maybe that was part of it, when you—when we kissed. I mean, maybe it was just me, but… Well, it was one hell of a kiss.”