by Lynn Patrick
Lucille’s brows shot up. “You wanna be alone, huh? I guess we can understand that, can’t we?” She aimed a melting look at her husband.
“Why, darlin’, if you’re not careful, you’re going to find yourself thrown over my shoulder and escorted out of here, pronto.”
Lucille laughed as Price pulled Anita into a recessed area away from the crowd. His face was drawn and pale and he kept clearing his throat.
“Price, is something wrong? Are you feeling well?”
“Yes. No. I—I’m not sure.”
Now Anita was starting to worry. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“Kneel.”
“What?”
“I suppose I should kneel if I’m going to do this right,” Price choked out. He got down on one knee and took her hand. “Anita, you already know how much I love you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
“Marry…?”
Happiness swelled through her, and yet Anita couldn’t easily agree. She had doubts about marriage. The institution hadn’t worked for her mother, and they had both suffered because of the divorce. But more than that, though she did love Price with all her heart, the thought of marrying him frightened her. He was so certain of himself—most of the time, anyway—and so in command. He would run every facet of her life if she let him.
“You look shocked,” Price said as he rose to his feet. “I guess you don’t want to marry me then, is that it?”
“Price, you’re the only man I ever want to marry,” she assured him, “but this is so sudden.”
“Sudden? We’ve known each other for almost two years. We’ve been in love for at least half that time. If you still love me.”
“Of course I love you. It’s just that…” Anita tried to find the words that would explain how she felt without hurting him. “I…I’m too young.”
“You’re eighteen. Plenty of girls get married even younger.”
“Well, I’m not plenty of girls.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a star.”
He was so stiff, so hurt, Anita couldn’t keep herself from wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Price, please try to understand. You’re asking me to make the biggest decision of my life, because the only kind of marriage I want is one that will last until death do us part. I love you, Price.” Anita was relieved when his stance softened and he lightly encircled her waist. “I’m sure you’re the man for me, but I don’t feel ready to make a lifetime commitment yet.”
“You do love me?” he asked, sounding more positive. “I adore you. All I’m asking for is some time.”
Price sighed. “All right.”
Anita kissed his cheek. “You’re the most understanding, most wonderful man in the whole world.”
Price enveloped her in an embrace and a kiss that was bittersweet for Anita. For, no matter what she told Price, no matter how much she loved and wanted to marry him in the future, an uneasiness filled her. On the outside she was gutsy and sure of herself, but inside she was haunted by a fear that she would never be able to pull out of Price’s shadow.
What if she never felt ready?
Malibu, Present Day
“SCHUYLER, you can’t leave. What will I do without you?”
The distinguished-looking silver-haired man raised one eyebrow. “Honestly, Justine, a woman of your age looks foolish begging.”
“Then call me a fool, but don’t go.”
Justine threw herself against the door. Schuyler grabbed her arm and pulled her away with such force that she bumped into a pedestal, causing a sculpture to teeter and crash to the floor. Justine gasped and threw a hand up to her neck, which was adorned with sapphires the color of her eyes.
“I don’t have time for your nonsense,” Schuyler growled. “Xantha is waiting for me.” He exited.
“Dear, sweet Xantha,” Justine spit out, shoving a mass of chestnut hair from her brow. “When I get through with her, she’ll be sorry she ever heard the name Schuyler Algernon Radcliffe.”
The shot of Justine’s spite-filled, classically beautiful face faded to black.
Gabby clapped. “To be continued.”
“Always,” Kit agreed as she reached over to the counter covered with brilliant blue and white Mexican tiles and snapped off the portable television. “Or so Mother hopes. She wants to keep acting as long as she can still walk and talk.”
“Lana Worth is perfect for the role of Justine Hawk. Not that I think she’s anything like the character in real life,” Gabby added quickly.
Kit grinned. “Not a bit.”
Gabby’s praise pleased Kit, making him glad that he’d thought to turn on Hawk’s Roost while they ate. The show might be overblown, but it was entertaining and had a legion of loyal fans. And he was proud of his mother. As an adult, he had an easy camaraderie with the woman who might not have had enough time for him when he was a child but had always had enough love.
“I wish you could meet Mother, but Hawk’s Roost is on location in Monte Carlo this month.”
“Monte Carlo—how exciting! I’ll bet she has a lot of interesting stories to tell about working on the show,” Gabby said, popping the last piece of grilled fish into her mouth.
“More than usual. Charles Brody, the man who plays Schuyler, is a practical joker. One time they had a bedroom scene to film. Mother hates those, but they go with the territory. Anyway, she was slipping discreetly between the sheets when Charles told her to look down. He’d put a huge rubber snake in the bed. Mother hates snakes, real or otherwise, so she screamed, jumped up and gave the crew something of a private show.”
“She must have been horribly embarrassed.”
“She grabbed the sheet and ran off the set. It took Charles a half hour of coaxing outside her dressing room to get her to come back and film the scene.” Kit laughed as he remembered his mother’s version of the story, which he was sure she’d embellished with her dramatics. “And then, of course, she got even a couple of days later.”
Gabby grinned. “Good for her. What did she do?”
“Charles wears a hairpiece. She got some itching powder and dusted the thing. Right in the middle of a scene he started scratching his head. The director had to cut and start the scene over. After the same thing happened a few more times, he finally figured out what was going on.”
“Was he angry?”
“Mom said he laughed his hairpiece off.”
Gabby snickered and finished her wine. Glad he’d asked her to stay, Kit emptied the last of the Chardonnay into both glasses. She was a comfortable woman, as happy as he to eat in the cozy kitchen rather than the more formal dining area on the other side of the counter. Setting down the bottle, he stepped out to the deck and removed the last of the food from the edge of the built-in grill where he was keeping it warm.
“Would you like more of anything?” he asked, setting the platter on the edge of the table. “Fish? Another skewer of vegetables?”
“Mmm, no, nothing.”
“Not even super fudge chunk ice cream?”
Gabby scrunched up her face. “Ooh, my weakness. Maybe just a small scoop…but if you can’t lift me when we rehearse tomorrow, it’ll be your own fault for putting temptation in my path.”
“I doubt that’ll be a problem,” Kit said with a grin. “I’m stronger than I look.”
He started to take her dish, but she put out a staying hand. “The least I can do is help clean up.”
They worked together companionably and within minutes had the kitchen in order. Gabby found the bowls and spoons while Kit took the pint of ice cream from the freezer. He wondered if she’d relaxed enough with him to talk about something that had been bothering him all day.
“What made you decide to quit Broadway?” he asked as he scooped out the ice cream.
She looked uncomfortable and raised her stubborn chin for a moment. Then she softened and, shrugging her shoulders, said, “Time. It wasn’t on my side anymore.”
“That can be a proble
m, but you don’t look your age.”
“So I’ve been told. But I was beginning to feel it. Not physically—mentally. It’s difficult to keep going when you’re getting nowhere.”
Kit returned the carton to the freezer and slid into his seat. He appreciated how difficult it was for Gabby to share that confidence, but he couldn’t stop there.
“I find it hard to believe that no one took advantage of your talent.”
“There are thousands of talented hoofers looking for work in New York.”
“But you have something special.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they ate their ice cream. Maybe they had something special when they danced together, Kit thought. He’d never felt quite the same rapport with another partner…or the same aggravation. Maybe the two went hand in hand. People were bound to get on each other’s nerves if they worked closely together on a day-to-day basis. Maybe working together had destroyed the romance between Price and Anita.
Not wanting to spoil his evening thinking about the past, he asked, “Ready for that swim?”
“You have a pool hidden somewhere around here? I don’t think the hot tub qualifies.”
“You want a pool when we have the ocean?”
“You swim in the ocean at night?”
“Sometimes. What’s the matter?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Afraid of sharks?”
“Mostly the human ones,” she said with a laugh.
Kit laughed, too. “Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water… What do you say? We have an hour or so before we need to worry about the tide.”
“You don’t think it’ll be too cold?”
“If it is, we’ll just come back inside,” he said.
“You have an answer for everything.”
“Usually.”
“Are you usually right?”
“Always.”
Gabby’s brows shot up. “Hmm, no overinflated ego there.”
“Confidence spells success. So what’ll it be?”
“You’ve worn me down,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “Where are those swimsuits?”
“In the spare bedroom. This way.”
She followed him across the living area and into a spacious guest room. He opened the closet and pulled out one of a stack of built-in drawers.
“Take your pick.”
Glancing at the assortment of colors tumbled together, she said, “You must be a great host.”
“I try my best.” He moved away from the closet. “You’ll find several beach robes on hangers, as well.”
As Kit left the room, Gabby sorted through the suits, some of which were bikinis. She held up a top and wondered if Kit had really provided it for a guest’s use or if the suit belonged to a girlfriend. The thought made her drop the garment, though she didn’t know why she should be uncomfortable. Of course Kit was bound to have women in his personal life. Why should she care? She was only his dance partner, she reminded herself, and a temporary one at that.
So why was she so drawn to him? Remembering the kiss she’d instigated while rehearsing, Gabby grew warm with embarrassment all over again.
She plunged her hand into the drawer and pulled out the largest piece of cloth she could find. Luckily the turquoise one-piece suit would fit. She wasted no time in trading her rehearsal clothes for it. Only after slipping into the suit did she wonder if she shouldn’t have chosen more carefully. While the front was modest except for the high-cut legs, the material plunged well below her waist in back.
Gabby was thinking about looking for something more conservative when Kit called to her from the other room.
“Hey, aren’t you ready yet?”
“Just about.”
Gabby grabbed a beach robe of melon terry embroidered with tropical flowers along the collar and cuffs. It would cover her well enough for the moment, and it was dark out. She fastened the front, redid her ponytail and exited the bedroom. Already waiting for her, Kit was wearing a plush deep green robe that intensified the color of the eyes that swept her length as she approached.
A bit uncomfortable under his too-careful scrutiny, she said, “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”
He grinned. “I thought you were having problems with your suit straps or something.”
Gabby smiled. “I’ve gotten into far more complicated costumes without a dresser.”
Grinning, Kit picked up a couple of beach towels from a nearby chair and, with an arm around her shoulders, swept her out onto the deck. He switched on the outside lights, which illuminated not only the stairway down to the beach but the area directly in front of the house, as well. The sand glowed a soft gold against the blue-black sky. They descended the steps and quickly crossed the short expanse of beach.
“We can leave our things here,” Kit said as they got to the edge of the lit sand. “Then we can see them again when we come out of the water.”
They tossed the towels and robes a few yards from where breakers curled. The foaming water whispered a rhythmic sigh as it advanced and retreated. Above, the sky was clear, revealing a brilliant moon and thousands of stars. A perfect setting for romance, Gabby thought as Kit took her hand and plunged ahead. Before she could hesitate, she was enveloped by chilly water.
“Aah!” she screeched as she tried to loosen Kit’s hold on her, but he quickly pulled her in deeper.
“Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t back out of this now.”
“But the water’s cold!”
“Invigorating,” Kit corrected with a laugh.
“Oh, really?” With her free hand Gabby splashed him.
“Hey!”
Kit loosened his grip long enough for her to slip free. He used both hands to splash her in return. Laughing, Gabby tried to evade the torrent of water he aimed at her, but soon she was drenched, shivering and in his arms.
“You are cold. We’ll have to do something about that.”
Within seconds his warmth crept through her and her protest died on her lips. His touch felt so good. The romantic setting and the companionable past few hours seemed to draw them together. Above, the moon cast its sorcerer’s spell.
“You know, you’re very lovely, Gabby,” Kit told her seriously, his face mere inches from hers.
His nearness almost took her breath away, but she attempted to joke. “Even though I’m all wet?”
“You’d be gorgeous in any circumstances.”
This time she had no ready quip with which to reply. That Kit found her desirable made her toes tingle. Sharing a kiss was only natural, she realized as his lips found hers.
The warmth of their kiss contrasted sharply with the dark coldness of the water lapping around them. Her heart pounded and she wound her arms around his neck.
Then, without warning, an incoming wave threw them off balance, and they went down together, the wave carrying them toward the beach and depositing them on the sand.
Gabby laughed self-consciously, the spell broken for a moment. “Just like in the movies!”
But the intensity of Kit’s gaze mesmerized her once more. “The movies,” he agreed gruffly before kissing her again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“DO YOU REALLY THINK you can convince Kit to let you wear costumes identical to my old ones?” Anita called out from the bathroom.
“I don’t see why not.” Gabby replaced one of her mother’s originals in a zip-up dress bag. The most effective way to convince Kit of anything, she’d found, was by demonstration. “We compromised when we picked the three numbers we’re going to use. And then I got him to watch the videotapes. The choreography isn’t identical to Price’s, but some of the movements are similar.”
Gabby didn’t want to tell her mother she preferred Kit’s choreography to that of his father. Price’s dances were sophisticated, lighthearted and charmingly romantic, but Kit’s had an intensity that she personally found far more compelling.
Anita was still fussing with her hair a
s she glanced out through the bathroom doorway. “So you two aren’t arguing anymore?”
“I didn’t say that. We’ve gotten into a few squabbles, but nothing serious,” Gabby assured her. “I think it must be impossible to get along with a partner one hundred percent of the time.”
“How well I remember.”
Gabby clenched her jaw to keep from saying anything negative about Price that might put Anita into a tizzy. She hadn’t gotten over her dislike of Kit’s father, especially after hearing how distant Price had been to his son. How could anyone be so cold? No wonder the man had made her mother miserable.
“You are doing some of the choreography, aren’t you?” Anita asked as she entered the sitting room.
Gabby tried to be evasive as she gathered her things together for rehearsal. “I make suggestions.” But she could tell by the older woman’s expression that she wasn’t fooling anyone.
Anita crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Oh-oh, that sounds familiar.”
“What do you mean?”
“Price let me make suggestions, then went right ahead and did things as he wanted. Sounds as if Kit is exactly like him.”
Wondering how truly alike father and son were, Gabby shifted uneasily. She hated comparing Kit to Price, especially after their short romantic interlude on the beach the other night. Although they’d stopped before either one had gotten carried away, they had drawn closer—yet she suspected her mother was at least partially correct.
“Kit really is better at choreography than I am,” Gabby said, not knowing why she was defending him. She had to go to great lengths to change his mind about the smallest detail. “But I’m contributing my share to this act, as well.”
“I know you are, darling. You usually contribute more than your share. I’m just worried that Kit will use the same tactics as his father and try to overpower you with his personality.” Anita seemed to withdraw for a moment of retrospection, then shook herself free of what were obviously unpleasant thoughts. “Say, shouldn’t you be going?”
“Right.” Kissing her mother’s cheek, Gabby picked up the dress bag and her rehearsal bag and started out the door. “See you tonight.”
“Oh, I’m not sure about that.”