Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One

by Marie Ferrarella

  He smiled. Of late he had had a restless feeling. It had gotten to a dangerous point just before Charley turned up in his life again. He had thought that getting a regular paycheck while remaining on the fringe of the theater world would satisfy his conflicting needs for stability and excitement. But it wasn’t enough. With Charley’s appearance he had temporarily put his discontent on hold. Now he wanted to explain that his recent craving for a more . . . stimulating lifestyle matched her own.

  But tonight wasn’t the time to tell her. She was too overwrought. He’d pick another time. Maybe after the tryout in Boston.

  “I’ll tell you when you finally decide you want to talk this all out.” He kissed the top of her head. “Good night, Charley.”

  Charley let herself into her apartment, then leaned against the door, feeling both bewildered by his words and relieved that he had let the conversation end so easily. The sound of his fading footsteps assured her that he was leaving. Suddenly she was seized by a feeling of emptiness that “job satisfaction” did very little to alleviate.

  Hearing a noise in the bathroom, she straightened abruptly. By the time Allison entered the living room, there was no sign of distress on Charley’s face.

  “What’s happened?” Allison asked. “It sounded like you were having an argument with someone out in the hall.”

  “Oh, it was nothing,” Charley said flippantly. “I was just getting rid of Reese. He ran into me and insisted on walking me home.” She dropped her purse on the nearest available chair.

  Allison’s interest was far from hidden. “Why didn’t you ask him in?” she said, disappointed.

  Charley shrugged. “He’s boring.”

  “Maybe to you.” Allison sighed. “I could get used to that kind of boring,” she said with a broad smile.

  Charley noticed with satisfaction that despite Allison’s good looks, her smile made her look somewhat horsey. Funny how little things made your day, she thought.

  “So could a lot of the girls,” Allison went on as she plopped herself on the sofa and stretched out her legs.

  Although it was far from late, she was already wearing her shortie robe and baby-doll pajamas. No wonder she was eager to have Reese come in, Charley thought. Suddenly she realized that Allison was talking a blue streak, all on the subject of Reese. According to Allison he had caught the eye of every female member of the cast.

  “Rhonda’s the worst of all,” Allison confided. “She corners him every time he has a free second.”

  For a moment Charley gave in to the jealousy she felt at this news. Then she forced herself to put aside thoughts of Rhonda and concentrate on more important matters, such as getting Allison to talk about herself.

  “Well, he’s up for grabs,” she said. “I’m not interested in him.”

  Allison’s smile spread wider still. “I certainly wouldn’t throw him away.”

  Charley sat down on the sofa opposite Allison, wondering how to elicit the information she needed. “Is it all over between you and Ethan?” she asked.

  Allison regarded her perfectly shaped nails. Charley could have sworn that she looked uncomfortable. Was she having second thoughts about her part in the selling of government secrets? “Yeah, I think so,” she finally said. “I’m going to tell him right after the performance that it’s over.”

  “When’s he coming?” Charley asked, getting up and going into the kitchenette. She suddenly felt in need of a cup of strong coffee.

  Allison’s voice followed her. “Monday night, for the dress rehearsal.”

  The words halted Charley in mid-motion. The dress rehearsal? But Max had heard her tell Graystone to come to the first night. Had plans been changed for some reason? Obviously. Charley bit her lip. How had Allison been notified of the change? Somehow the agent had contacted her without either Charley or Branigan witnessing the exchange. It seemed impossible, yet it had happened. The switch in nights worried her. Did it mean something? Was the agency on to them?

  “Want some coffee?” she asked, pausing in the doorway of the kitchenette. She kept her inner anxiety perfectly hidden.

  Allison shook her head. “Bad for my nerves,” she said, reaching for a bottle of nail polish on the coffee table.

  And Allison, Charley thought, was bad for hers. She walked back into the kitchenette and poured a cup of water into the coffee maker. Why had the night been changed? she asked herself. Then she remembered an announcement that had been on the call-board that morning. The angels for the show were sponsoring a party for the cast and crew after the dress rehearsal. That must be where the exchange would take place.

  But when and how had Allison been notified of the change? Charley wondered. And when had Allison gotten in touch with Graystone? As she watched the coffee stream into her mug, Charley reviewed the entire day. Allison had either been on stage or with her . . . except when Allison had gone to the bathroom in the diner where they’d had lunch with two of the men from the show. Charley had followed her a minute later, and had seen Allison just ducking into the bathroom—which was right beside the public phones.

  She needed to tell Max about the change in plans as soon as possible, Charley thought. But Allison’s suspicions might be aroused if she darted out now. She chewed on her lower lip as the coffee finished dripping and she reached for the mug.

  The shrill sound of the phone halted her hand in midair. “You expecting a call?” she asked Allison.

  The nail-polish brush hovered over one tiny toenail. “No. Want me to get it?”

  The phone! Of course! Charley thought. Max taped every call. “No, that’s all right. Keep on doing what you’re doing.” She hurried to the wall phone. “Hello?”

  “Charley? This is Carol. What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

  Chalmers wanted to rehearse an all-male dance routine the following morning, so the women had some free time.

  “Trying to put my body back together,” Charley said, thinking of that afternoon’s dance rehearsal. Chalmers had made them go over the numbers countless times. Maybe it had been her imagination, but he still seemed bent on singling her out and making her work harder than the others.

  “Then you probably don’t want to go shopping with me,” Carol said, sounding a little disappointed.

  Shopping was the last thing she wanted to do, but Charley seized her opportunity. “Sure, we’d love to go.”

  “We?” Carol echoed, surprised.

  Charley covered the mouthpiece and looked at Allison. “Carol wants us to go shopping with her tomorrow.”

  Allison frowned. “Well, I don’t know ...”

  “C’mon.” Charley coaxed in her most beguiling fashion. “It’ll be fun. We can get in a little shopping, stop at some neat little cafe for lunch ...” Her voice trailed off. She was twice as determined to keep Allison in her sights now that there had been a change in plans.

  Perhaps the contact would talk to her again. Somehow she had to keep tabs on everyone Allison spoke to.

  “Okay,” Allison said, but she sounded less than enthusiastic. “I guess it might be fun, at that.”

  “Terrific,” Charley said, uncovering the mouthpiece. “She can make it.”

  “Who can make it?”

  “Allison. She said she’d love to come.”

  “Oh.”

  Charley could hear the coolness in Carol’s voice. She suddenly remembered that Carol’s boyfriend was one of the many men in the cast with whom Allison had been flirting. Was he her contact? Was Carol? There were so many possibilities that Charley’s head began to ache. The message, get on with the message, she urged herself.

  “Did you know that Allison’s boyfriend is coming to see the dress rehearsal?” she said, using the break in conversation to convey the necessary information to Max.

  “She has a boyfriend?” Carol asked.

  “Well, it’s her ex-boyfriend, really. I think his name’s Ethan. Anyway, he’s coming to the Monday-night performance. Must care about her an awful lot to come all the
way to Boston. But then, she’s a little heartbreaker, isn’t she?” Charley winked at Allison.

  Allison didn’t preen. Instead, she looked uncomfortable at Charley’s words. Maybe there’s a conscience in her after all, Charley thought.

  “Some little heartbreaker,” Carol muttered. “I don’t suppose this means she’ll keep her mitts off Terry, does it?” she asked, letting her feelings out.

  “No,” Charley said, “I don’t suppose it does. What time tomorrow?”

  “Ten okay?”

  “Perfect. See you then.”

  Two birds with one stone, Charley thought as she hung up. Max now knew about the change in plans and Charley had found an opportunity to be around Allison all morning. Make that three birds, she amended, going back into the kitchenette. If she was out with Allison and Carol, Reese wouldn’t be able to ply her with questions.

  So why wasn’t she happy?

  Life was a bear, Charley decided sadly as she sipped her coffee. She made a face. The coffee was bitter.

  Saturday went according to plan. The entire morning was spent ducking in and out of stores along Fifth and Madison avenues. To Charley’s surprise she found herself rather liking Allison, who acted like a child in a candy store when it came to trying on designer clothes. Charley recalled that Graystone had shelled out a pretty sum to keep up with Allison’s expensive tastes. Seeing the shining look in the blonde’s eyes as she smoothed a silk gown over her hips, Charley could understand why he had showered her with gifts. Allison looked as if she were in love with the finer things in life. She positively glowed, and Charley felt old and unattractive next to her. She sighed.

  “Had enough?” Carol asked hopefully. Carol had ceased trying on clothes two stores back.

  “Yes, I think I have.”

  “We’ve got to get over to the rehearsal hall anyway.”

  They tore Allison away from the other three outfits she wanted to try on and got her to the Minskoff just as Chalmers was beginning to look for them.

  Charley managed to keep out of Reese’s way during the dance rehearsal on Saturday, and Sunday morning she and Allison went out for brunch. When they returned to the apartment, the blinking red light on the answering machine indicated they had voice mail. There were three messages, and all of them were from Reese for Charley. She felt a little ache at the sound of his voice, and shut off the machine in the middle of the third message.

  She didn’t return his calls. Checking her cell, she found three texts from him as well. She didn’t bother to read them.

  She tried not to think about him as she and Allison spent the rest of the day watching old movies on television and talking about their pasts. Actually, Allison talked. She seemed almost grateful for the opportunity to talk about herself, as if her memories were a comfort to her. She grew broodingly silent, though, when Charley casually asked about Ethan.

  “He’s a nice man,” she said, as if that were a final judgment. She got up and flipped around the channels as though looking for something to take her mind off the subject. “Oh, look, here’s an old Fred Astaire movie,” she said. “Don’t you wish you could dance like that?”

  No, Charley thought, but I wish I could figure out how to get you to tell me who your contact is.

  Monday morning Charley was surprised to find that Chalmers was not at rehearsal.

  “Looks like my voodoo doll finally worked,” Carol said in a stage whisper as the cast gathered for a run-through of the second act.

  “So who’s taking over?” Charley asked.

  “I am.”

  She looked up and found Reese standing to her left. She had forgotten that one of the stage manager’s functions was to fill in for the director in his absence. But then, Reese had made her forget a lot of things.

  “Okay, everybody,” he called, gathering the players together. “Let’s run through this as painlessly as possible. Mr. Chalmers won’t be in this morning. He has a toothache.” The sympathetic “ah’s” that greeted this statement didn’t sound entirely sincere, Charley thought, grinning. “But that’s no reason to slack off, right?” Reese received only silent nods in response.

  Charley wondered if this was the first time Reese had taken over for a director. He certainly didn’t appear to be either nervous or awkward. But then, she doubted if anything in the world could make him appear awkward. Nonetheless she felt nervous for him.

  He surprised her. She had fully expected him to sit back and let the musical numbers take care of themselves. Instead, when Rhonda’s solo needed work, Reese got up and showed her exactly what he felt Chalmers wanted her to get across. Reese sang. And danced. Charley had known he was a good actor, but she hadn’t guessed at his other talents. It seemed that Reese could succeed at anything he set his mind to.

  When they broke for lunch, Charley was sure that Reese would corner her, but she was “saved” by Rhonda. The voluptuous actress coquettishly took hold of his arm. “I think I need some extra help in getting this routine down pat,” she said.

  Charley tried to tell herself that it was all for the best, as she walked out of the rehearsal hall with some of the other cast members. But when they were seated in a nearby coffee shop she found herself nervous as she listened to the conversation. Reese never joined them. Neither did Rhonda. Jealousy took a stranglehold on Charley’s throat, preventing her food from sliding down.

  The afternoon was spent polishing Act Two until it shone. Everyone agreed that Chalmers would be pleased. Or at least that the volume of his roar would go down by a decibel or two.

  Charley was getting ready to leave with Allison when Reese came up behind her. “Miss Tremayne, would you mind staying behind?” he asked.

  She fully intended to tell him she had other plans, but he didn’t give her a chance.

  “Please?” he added softly. Charley found that she couldn’t refuse.

  “I’ll see you later,” Allison said.

  Charley was about to ask her to wait, but Allison had already linked arms with one of the dancers and disappeared into the backstage shadows. Charley looked after the blonde in despair. How was she ever going to find out who Allison’s contact was, when the woman flirted with every man in the show?

  “Your second speech in scene three is a little flat,” Reese was saying. “I thought you might want to go over it again. I’m free. My date seems to have stood me up,” he added meaningfully. The stage area had suddenly become very silent. Everyone else had gone.

  “What date?” Charley asked. “Rhonda?” She couldn’t picture Rhonda walking out on a date with Reese. It was obvious that she wanted him in the worst way.

  “Rhonda?” Reese repeated. “She only wanted help with her solo.” His tone made it clear that he had no interest in the other woman. “As for me, I need help untangling this whole situation. How do I figure you out, Charley? Have I been reading all the signs wrong? Are all the feelings on my side alone?”

  Charley knew that she should say yes, but she just wasn’t strong enough to do it.

  “It’s not one-sided,” she murmured.

  The next thing she knew, she was in Reese’s arms and he was kissing her. She felt herself growing light-headed as passion swirled through her. To counteract the feeling she wedged her hands against his chest and pushed him away.

  “But it doesn’t change anything,” she said.

  Reese had no idea what “anything” was, but he humored her nonetheless. “Right,” he said, nibbling the edge of her ear. “We’ll work out the details later.”

  The touch of his lips was incredibly distracting. She began to feel her control slipping away. Her feelings took over and she pressed herself against him, needing to feel the reassuring warmth of his body.

  Gradually Reese worked his way behind her. Lifting her heavy hair, he continued his caresses along her neck. His hands slid into the front pockets of her jeans, pressing against her abdomen and massaging her ever so lightly. Charley felt herself turning into butter.

  She wanted to tu
rn around so that she could feel his lips on hers. But that would mean giving up the delicious sensation his fingers were producing. It was a tough decision. His lips won. She twisted around, raising her hands and attempting to wrap them around his neck. But Reese stepped back.

  “Hey, I’m the director here today,” he said teasingly. “I’m supposed to be telling you which moves to make.”

  “You’re only the substitute director,” she reminded him, a touch of mischief mingling with her desire. “I think you need a little help.”

  “Do I, now? This bears investigation.” He looked around, and Charley knew what was on his mind.

  “Oh, no, not the stage,” she said. “Someone could come in.”

  “We could rent a room. There’re plenty of sleazy hotels around Times Square.”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t think I can hold out that long,” she said. She loved the broad smile her words brought to his lips.

  “I can accept that,” he said, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “Follow me.” He took her hand and led her down the narrow corridor.

  “The prop room?” she cried when he opened the creaking door. “But it’s crowded in there. Not to mention dusty and—“

  She had no opportunity to go on with her list. Her lips were otherwise occupied. And after a moment her complaints faded into oblivion. The prop room was fine. The stage would have been fine too. Anywhere in the world would have been fine, so long as Reese made love to her.

  It was all that mattered. And right now he was all that mattered.

  Chapter Nine

  It was amazing how you could make do with things when you wanted to, Charley thought. At first the prop room had seemed stuffy and crammed, with hardly enough room in it for one person, much less two. But now, in the haze of passion, it struck her as rather cozy.

  “A girl would have to be friendly here even if she didn’t want to,” she said, momentarily shaking off the drugging effect of Reese’s lips.

  He ran his finger along the edge of her blouse, tracing a pattern down to the first button. “Does she want to?” he asked softly, tantalizing her as he toyed with the button.