“We could go to mass first, then,” he said. “Is there a nine thirty?” The blue eyes swept over her. Damn, she was one pretty woman! The strawberry blond hair, the warm brown eyes, and that trim figure. He was surprised to feel his dick twitch with interest.
“Yes, there’s a nine thirty,” Nina answered him. “Are you a Catholic?”
“I used to be,” he told her. “I’m a little bit lapsed.”
“Everyone, or almost everyone, goes to church in a small town. It’s not just the religion—there’s a social aspect to it as well,” Nina explained. “It’s how you make friends and contacts.”
“Let’s go, then,” he said, escorting her to his car, which was parked at her curb.
Nina was surprised to see the vehicle he drove was a Chrysler PT Cruiser. “I thought you’d have more elegant transportation,” she said as she got in.
He laughed. “I bought this when they first came out. It’s not the kind of car anyone wants to steal. I garage it, but those fancy cars have been known to disappear from even the best garages in the best neighborhoods. I go for my car, and I know it’s going to be there.”
“A practical man,” she replied, fastening her seat belt. “Take a left at the corner. St. Anne’s is just three blocks down. I usually walk it, but since we’re going to eat afterward, it’s good to have the car right there. You’ll see the church parking lot.”
Robert Talcott thought the church charming. It looked like something out of an English village. The stained-glass windows were very old, their colors rich, each portraying a moment in St. Anne’s life as imagined by the artist. The brief mass was conducted by an elderly priest Nina introduced afterward as Father Sullivan. She explained to him that Mr. Talcott would be moving to Egret Pointe eventually.
“Then we’ll expect to see you regularly,” the old man said. “You appear to be at an age where you’ll be wanting to begin making your peace with God.”
Nina swallowed a giggle as Bob manfully agreed.
“Your priest doesn’t mince words, does he?” her escort said as he helped her back into the waiting car.
“He’s really a dear man,” Nina said, defending Father Sullivan. “I have no idea what possessed him to say such a thing.”
“He’s got a sharp eye. He saw I didn’t come up for the host,” Bob replied.
“Turn left out of the parking lot,” Nina directed him. “Then right at the next corner onto Main Street. The luncheonette is on the right, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get a parking space right in front.” They were.
Inside, they had to wait a few minutes for a table. He was surprised, and remarked it was just like trying to get a table at a trendy restaurant in the city or Hollywood. They were finally seated in a comfortable booth.
“Coffee?” the waitress asked, slapping down two menus in front of them.
“Tea and a large cranberry juice for me,” Nina said.
“Coffee,” Bob said.
The waitress hurried off.
“What’s good?” he asked Nina.
“Blueberry pancakes,” she answered. “With sausage.”
“Done!” he told her, and when the waitress returned, he ordered for them both.
“I’m curious,” Nina said, “and it’s really none of my business, but I’m so surprised your wife could just let you come east alone. You were married to Sallie Blair, weren’t you? She’s a fantastic actress.”
“She is, isn’t she?” he agreed. “The studio wanted us to marry,” he explained. “My first wife and I met at a cattle call. That’s when a show puts out a casting call, and every young actor and actress in town comes. It was fun. It was the seventies. We were still old-fashioned enough to get married when we decided we wanted to have sex and share an apartment.”
“Did you love her?” Nina wanted to know.
“To this day I’m not quite sure,” Bob admitted. “She was a terrific girl. But then I got my first big break in a Broadway show. I was the hot new young actor. Lots of publicity and parties. Then Hollywood beckoned. She got scared because she realized it wasn’t the kind of life she wanted after all. We divorced after two years.”
“Do you know what happened to her?” Nina asked.
“We stayed friends,” he said. “She eventually married a nice businessman. They live in the suburbs of the city and have three kids, all grown now. I stayed a bachelor in Hollywood, the man about town with this starlet and that up-and-coming actress on his arm at all the important parties and events. That’s how I met Sallie. We did a few movies together, and then she began to get bigger and bigger roles. Suddenly she was a star of the first magnitude with a capitol S, but she had a secret, and the moneymen controlling the studios by then didn’t want her secret revealed.
“Since I was considered a nice guy in a not-so-nice town, I was approached. If I would marry Sallie Blair and remain a good husband, at least publicly, my career would continue to bloom. If I didn’t, my career would be in the toilet, and my reputation would be smeared so that I couldn’t get work anywhere on either coast. I said I would agree if my physical needs could be met discreetly. You see, Sallie Blair is gay. I knew it because we had become friends. In fact, it had been she who suggested I would make her an excellent husband.
“Everything was worked out so that she kept her lover, who was her personal assistant, by the way, and I got what I needed when I needed it. We staged a two-month courtship. The columns got planted with all kinds of items about it. And then we eloped to Vegas, where we were married in one of those amazingly tacky wedding chapels. Several paparazzi were tipped off, and we were caught coming out of the chapel.”
“Ah, now I understand a little bit better,” Nina said as the waitress arrived with their breakfast, plunked down the plates, and retreated. “That’s why she didn’t come with you when you returned East.”
“She had her own life,” Bob replied. “She and Nancy had been together for years. Her career is still booming. She likes living in Malibu. The roles offered me were becoming fewer and fewer. My agent told me that the playwright Arthur Billings had a new play going into production and wanted me for the lead. I took it. We obtained a quiet divorce, to which her people didn’t object. The publicity about it simply said we had grown apart and would remain the best of friends. No scandal. No story. The end.”
“It sounds so dispassionate and chill,” Nina said softly as she cut a piece of blueberry pancake.
“I’m a New Englander and a practical man. I never fell in love, so it never mattered. With Sallie’s proclivities, there was no chance of a child. We were the perfect professional Hollywood couple. Two actors. Talented. Well liked. Well groomed. Well matched. We made money for the studios we worked for, we caused no trouble, and unlike so many of these young actors today, we didn’t end up in the middle of unsavory scandals. Our marriage was a business arrangement first and foremost.”
“And here I thought you were the perfect Hollywood couple,” Nina said with just a hint of sarcasm.
“Hell,” he said and laughed, “we were. Old school, of course.”
“How long have you been back in New York?” she asked him.
“Eight years now,” he said. “I’ve done five plays in that time. Only one of them bombed. But straight drama and comedies are becoming rarer. It’s those odd musicals like Les Miz, Phantom, and Cats that bring in the dollars today. Those and the revivals of the fifties and sixties musicals. There’s a chance they may do a revival of Kismet next year, and if they do, I’ll be playing the role of the wazir.” He laughed. “There would have been a time, and it doesn’t seem that long ago, when I would have been asked to play the role of the young caliph. Now it’s the villainous older man.”
“I think you would be a great wazir,” Nina said. “You’ve always been a terrific character actor.” She set her knife and fork down and began to sing softly, “ ‘When they caught the seven hundred men, and hung them in their prison pen. Who said suspend them by their fuzz? Was I wazir? I was!’ ”
He chuckled. “You know the words to that song?”
“Kismet was one of my favorite musicals,” Nina admitted. “I know the words to all the songs in that show. Some of the lyrics are seriously meaningful and poetic.”
“I’ll have to give you house seats, then,” he said.
“Opening night,” Nina replied with a sassy grin, “and I’ll expect an invite to the cast party afterward.”
“Are you flirting with me, Mrs. Parsons?” he asked her mischievously.
Nina laughed. “I think I might be,” she said. “It’s been so long since I flirted with anyone, I’m not quite certain. Do you think I am?”
“Yeah, I do. And it’s nice,” Bob told her.
“Tell me about the house you’re building?” Nina said, turning the subject back to him. Her cheeks felt warm, but she couldn’t believe she was blushing at her age.
“I don’t know what I’m building yet,” he said. “Want to drive out to the property and tell me what you see there?”
“I’d love to,” Nina answered.
He paid the bill, leaving their taciturn waitress a generous tip, which had her calling out, “Thanks!” behind them as they exited the luncheonette. Bob helped Nina into the car, and they drove off. He knew his way from Egret Pointe’s Main Street to the old Oliver property, driving two miles down the town’s major road, finally turning off onto a narrow paved path that led through a thick wood. Nina knew the Oliver property bordered the main road. It was a lot of property.
“You’re keeping it wooded,” she said.
“I like the woods, but I may clear some saplings and brush so the big trees stay healthy,” Bob replied.
“We have a lot of deer,” Nina told him. “They do have rather gourmet appetites for plants like hostas and day lily buds.”
“Duly warned, but the truth is, I like the deer. What’s that saying by Confucius? If God made them, there must be a use for them.” He brought the car to a stop. “We have to walk from here, Nina.”
“No problem. I don’t wear heels,” she told him as she got out of the car.
They walked about a hundred feet before coming out into a large clearing that overlooked the water. The sun was sparkling on the waves and the bay was full of boats.
“Well,” he said, “what do you think? What suits this property? A mansion like the Mulcahys’ or something else?”
“I would build low to blend into the natural landscape,” Nina said without any hesitation at all. “It doesn’t have to be small, but this piece of property is different from Ashley’s home, which has stood on her hill for over two hundred years.”
“There was a house up here once,” he reminded her.
“It was in the woods,” Nina said. “It was big, dark, and gloomy. You want to take advantage of the spectacular view, but you don’t want your home sticking out like a sore thumb. ‘Oh, look! There’s the McMansion that actor built,’ ” she trilled.
“Single level, then?” Bob asked, thinking as he had earlier how pretty Nina Parsons was. Especially standing here with the sunlight touching her hair.
“I would, but then I’m not you, and this isn’t my property,” Nina replied.
“Know any local architects?” What was it about her? She was normal, he thought. In Hollywood few people were normal, and in New York everyone he knew was in the theater or an allied industry. But Nina was a nice normal woman, and he found himself very much at ease with her. He wanted to know her better, he decided. “I have to go back into the city later today,” he said, “but could I see you when I come back?”
“Of course,” Nina answered. The movie star wanted to see her again, and this wasn’t one of her fantasies. This was reality. He drove her home, parking in front of her cottage. Nina leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for a lovely day,” she said. Then she gave him a mischievous smile. “Now I can say I kissed a movie star.”
His hand reached out to cup her face, and his mouth closed over hers in a deep, warm kiss. When he finally released her, he said, “Now you can say you’ve kissed a movie star, Nina Parsons.” Then he got out of the car and went around to open the door for her.
When he had touched her face, she had been startled, but when his lips pressed against hers, Nina had practically swooned away like some Victorian maiden being kissed for the very first time. But now she had to swing her legs out of the car, stand up, smile, and let him escort her to her front door. How she did it without collapsing amazed her.
“See you next week,” he said casually, turning to go.
Nina opened the door and stepped into her foyer, then leaned back against the wall, breathing deeply and slowly. She hadn’t been kissed since Charlie died. And she hadn’t been kissed like that ever. Wow! His kiss was everything she had ever imagined it would be. Did he realize he had just turned her life upside down? She doubted it, but he had. It was only early afternoon. She had at least six hours until the Channel opened. She could hardly wait. Nina decided to take a nap. But she couldn’t sleep. She took a long bubble bath in her claw-foot tub. She fixed herself a sandwich and salad since she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that was now hours ago.
The phone rang. It was Ashley. “I can’t stand it, Nina. How did it go?”
“He kissed me!” Nina blurted out without meaning to, and felt the heat rising up in her cheeks. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been kissed?”
“I take it this wasn’t a peck on the cheek,” Ashley said, a hint of laughter in her voice. “And yes, I know how long it’s been.”
“Mouth to mouth, hot, sweet, lingering,” Nina replied.
“Any tongue?”
“No! I would have fainted dead away if he had used his tongue,” Nina admitted. “The kiss was more than enough to leave me weak in the knees. Frankly, I don’t know how I walked up the path and into the house. He wants to see me again, Ashley.”
“Wonderful!” Ashley Mulcahy said. “Ryan really likes him.”
“He wants a local architect,” Nina said.
“I’ll tell Ryan,” Ashley replied. “Now, calm down, Nina, and I’ll see you at the shop Tuesday morning.” She rang off.
Finally it was eight o’clock. Nina got into her bed, picked up the special Channel remote, and pressed the A button. She was immediately in a gazebo set within a garden. It was an early-summer evening. The stars were beginning to twinkle one by one in the sky above. She was twenty again, and it was 1891 in Egret Pointe. Nina smoothed her bell-shaped skirt down, her hand going to her throat as she heard his footsteps crunching down the gravel path. “Lyon? Is that you?” she asked.
He sprang into the gazebo, grinning. “Of course, darling. Who else would it be?” Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her, and Nina recognized the kiss as Robert Talcott’s. There had been no identity to it before. His hand went to her bodice and fondled a breast. “Have you thought about what we talked about, Nina?” His fingers were unbuttoning the front of her dress.
“Oh, I don’t know, Lyon, if we should be so naughty.”
“We’re going to be married, Nina,” he protested.
“Shouldn’t we wait until then?” she questioned him.
“Everyone who gets engaged fucks, Nina. Oh, what a good girl you are,” he praised her. “You didn’t wear a chemise, just as I instructed you.” He began to fumble with the laces of her corset so he might completely free her breasts.
“But what if Papa finds out?” she worried.
“He won’t,” Lyon said. “We’re engaged, and he doesn’t want to know anything.” He got the corset open and, bending, began to suck on her nipple.
“Ohhhh,” Nina squealed softly. “That is so naughty!”
He lifted his head briefly so she might see his face. “But you like being naughty, Nina,” he said. “And I want to be naughty with you.” He drew her into the shadows of the interior of the gazebo, pulling her down onto the velvet love seat. Then, pressing her back, he allowed himself full access to her gloriou
s titties. They were big with large nipples he enjoyed sucking and rolling between his thumb and forefinger. She murmured as he paid the twin orbs extravagant attention.
Nina lay back, enjoying the attentions of the young actor known as Lyon Roberts. He had always been her fantasy, and a Victorian setting was her favorite as she played the reluctant virgin. Some nights she let him have his way. Other nights she did not. Tonight, however, she wanted to be fucked. His mouth sucked hard on one of her nipples, while his hand began to slip beneath the white cotton batiste of her skirt and up her leg.
“Good girl!” he praised her again. “You aren’t wearing your drawers.”
“You told me not to, Lyon, and I want to show you that I’m going to be a very obedient wife to you,” the young Nina simpered. “Ohh, you shouldn’t touch me there!”
“Yes, I should,” he assured her, his fingers playing amid the thick brown pubic curls of her mons. He ran a digit along her labia, pushing through and finding her little clit. His fingers squeezed the small nub of flesh, and then he began to tease it with his finger. She squirmed beneath his hand, and her breath came in short pants as he roused her to a clitoral orgasm. “Now, wasn’t that nice, darling?” he murmured, lifting his head from her tit and kissing her a slow, deep kiss. “Don’t you like it when I tease you?” His finger began to push into her, and she bridled beneath his hand but forbade him not. His finger pushed quickly in and out of her wet vagina, frigging her to another small orgasm.
“Don’t you want to do it with me, darling?” he whispered. “Don’t you want me to fuck you? Here, feel my cock, Nina.” He pulled her hand down to where his penis now thrust forth from his trousers.
“Oh, it’s big,” she told him, wide-eyed. “Surely it won’t fit inside me, Lyon.”
“Why don’t we try?” he purred softly.
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