LOVESCENES

by Sandra Marton

  Shannon closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. In the two weeks she’d been working here, she’d never heard the studio this quiet. Like a graveyard, she thought, flinching inwardly at the simile, for she might be at her own funeral. Her glance flickered to her di­rector. Jerry was standing just behind Cade Morgan, and the expression on his face was unreadable.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t play cat and mouse with me, Mr. Morgan,’ she said evenly. ‘You know what I said as well as I do. And I apologize. It was rude. It was insulting. It was...’

  ‘It was true,’ Cade Morgan said easily. ‘At least, part of it was. I am a guitar player,’ he said, giving the words the special emphasis she’d afforded them. ‘I take it you think that’s not a respectable occupation?’

  ‘I’ve already said I was sorry, Mr. Morgan.’

  ‘You made it sound like an obscenity, Miss Padgett.’

  She looked past him again, silently pleading with the director to interrupt, but Jerry’s face was a blank.

  ‘Mr. Morgan...’

  ‘I’m a musician, Miss Padgett. I’ve never pretended to be anything else. And I’m as proud of that as you are of being an actress.’ His indigo gaze drifted over her, and she felt as if he’d undressed her and left her naked and defenseless. ‘You are an actress, aren’t you?’ he asked, his eyes lingering on the long expanse of bare leg visible beneath her thigh-length robe. She resisted the urge to try and tug it down. His cold gaze met hers. ‘Although I can think of other ways you could earn your living.’

  Someone in the crowd tittered nervously and Shan­non’s head snapped up.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Morgan shrugged. ‘As a dancer, for ex­ample. ‘Or a model.' His smile was slow and challenging. ‘What did you think I meant?’

  ‘I’m an actress, Mr. Morgan, and you have no right to—'

  ‘An actress. And a damned good one,’ Jerry Crawford said, walking towards them. He smiled broadly. 'Shannon’s one of our new cast members, Cade. She’s playing the part of the girl who shows up in Clover City claiming to be the Dunbar heiress.’

  Cade nodded. ‘I should have figured that. Sure, the one who seduces the guy at the party.’

  Shannon stiffened imperceptibly. Somehow, it irri­tated her no end to learn that her director had discussed her part with this man. After all, he had nothing to do with All Our Tomorrows. In fact, he had nothing to do with acting. And he certainly didn’t know her character, she thought grimly.

  ‘She doesn’t seduce anybody,’ Shannon said to Jerry. ‘Not Alana Dunbar.’

  But it was Cade Morgan who answered. ‘Sure she does, Miss Padgett. She meets this guy—what’s his name, Jimmy or Johnny... ’

  ‘Johnny,’ she said automatically. ‘Look, Jerry...’

  ‘And she turns on the heat and he winds up in bed with her.’

  ‘Mr. Morgan, you’ve obviously never read the script. She does no such thing. She...’

  ‘She charms the hell out of the guy...’

  'You're wrong. That’s not what happens. I go to the party, I meet this man, and he sweeps me off my feet. When he kisses me...’

  Cade Morgan snorted. ‘When he kisses you? Jesus, Miss Padgett, you sure as hell look old enough to know who kisses who.’ He turned to the director. ‘I’m right, aren’t I, Jerry? She kisses him, doesn’t she?’

  Jerry Crawford shrugged his shoulders. ‘Don’t ask me,’ he said innocently. ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’ Shannon snapped. ‘He kisses her. I should know, shouldn’t I? I mean, it’s my scene. And I certainly know whether someone’s kissed me or I’ve kissed him. I...’

  ‘Clearly, you don’t, Miss Padgett,’ Cade Morgan growled. Before she could move, he wrapped one hand around the back of her head and drew her to him. ‘This is what it’s like when someone kisses you,’ he said, and his mouth closed over hers.

  Shannon’s outraged cry was lost against his hard mouth. She heard the startled gasp of the people watching them and then, for the thudding tick of a heartbeat, the room spun away from her. Her senses reeled under the sudden, unexpected assault, telling her that he smelled of leather and cold air, that his mouth tasted clean and sweet, that his grasp was like steel, that it was drawing her closer to him, so close that she could almost lean into him and close her eyes and...

  Cade’s hand dropped away from her as suddenly as it had brought her to him.

  ‘Have you got it straight now, Miss Padgett?’ he asked softly. ‘That’s what it feels like when a man kisses you.'

  For a second, something glinted brightly in his eyes. Then, it was gone.

  Satisfaction, she thought, that was what she'd seen. He'd re-paid her insult, and with interest. Carefully, she squared her shoulders.

  ‘Really?’ she asked in a voice that almost purred. ‘Well, I guess I haven’t been missing much, then.’

  The crowd murmured in delight and Cade Morgan’s eyes narrowed.

  Don’t push your luck, , Shannon told herself quickly. Exit, stage left, and do it fast.

  ‘Jerry,’ she said sweetly, turning to the director, ‘I’ll be in my dressing-room.’

  She waited for Jerry to tell her not to bother, that all she had to do was pick up her pay check and leave the set forever, but he simply nodded.

  ‘Sure, Shannon,’ he said agreeably. ‘I’ll call you when we need you.’

  ‘Do that,’ she said, as if she gave directors orders every day.

  Without so much as a glance at Cade Morgan, Shannon and stalked across the stage, trying not to dwell on the fact that her bare legs probably ruined what she had wanted to be a regal effect.

  But Cade Morgan was dwelling on it, at least, she thought he was. Why else would his low, wicked chuckle follow after her? It didn’t make for a dramatic exit— and neither did the fact that she could still feel the im­print of the man’s arrogant mouth against hers.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind having dinner on the run, Shannon? I know you were probably looking forward to veal piccata at Luigi’s.’

  Shannon shook her head and shrugged free of her corduroy jacket. ‘Luigi’s veal piccata tonight means black coffee all day tomorrow,’ she said with a grin. ‘Be­lieve me, Claire, I’m better off sticking with something less fattening. A salad, maybe.’

  ‘You need more than that after working all day. Have a small steak along with it.’ Claire Holden looked around the noisy restaurant and sighed.. ‘Although I don’t think places like this know the meaning of the word small. Just look at the size of those portions, will you?’

  ‘This is the real world, Claire,’ Shannon said lightly. And people eat real food in—where are we, anyway? Queens? Brooklyn?’

  Her agent grinned and folded her hands on the table top.

  ‘For shame,,’ she teased. ‘You’ve lived in New York long enough to know that the Nassau Coliseum is on Long Island. You know, just east of Queens...’

  ‘And west of the moon,’ Shannon laughed. ‘Well, it might as well be. I never get a chance to get out of the city.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to,’ Claire said. ‘Up and coming actresses spend all their time with their noses to the grindstone. Acting lessons, dancing lessons, exercise class...’

  ‘“Up and coming,’” Shannon repeated wistfully. ‘Why does that sound so much better than “struggling”?’

  ‘Because you’re not struggling, not any more. This part on Tomorrows is the break we waited for, sweetie. Good money, good lines, good exposure... ’

  ‘Don’t remind me about the exposure part,’ Shannon said, reaching towards a large muffin peeking out from a napkin-covered basket, ‘not after I spent the whole afternoon playing hide and seek with Tony in that damned bed.’ She shook her head imperceptibly and drew her hand back. ‘Take my mind off Tomorrows, Claire. Tell me what we’re doing here.’

  ‘I already told you,’ her agent said casually, smoothing a thick layer of butter o
n half a roll, ‘I have to see some guy who’s at the Coliseum tonight.’ She popped the roll into her mouth. ‘Delicious,’ she said, her words muffled and uneven. ‘I bet that muffin’s even better.’

  Shannon shook her head. ‘Too many calories for me.’ She folded her hands in her lap and smiled at the other woman. ‘I thought they played hockey games at the Coliseum. Don’t tell me you’re representing hockey players now.’

  ‘Can you just picture that?’ the agent asked with a laugh. ‘Not very likely. The only thing I know about hockey is that it’s played with a chuck.’

  Shannon burst out laughing. ‘A puck,’ she said. ‘Even I know that much.’

  The agent shrugged her shoulders and buttered the remaining piece of roll. ‘You see? It’s a good thing we’re not here to see a hockey game.’ She bit into the roll and chewed silently. ‘They hold concerts here, too,’ she said, swallowing the mouthful of bread. ‘Matter of fact, there’s one tonight.’ She glanced at Shannon and then at the bread basket. ‘I could have sworn I saw a cran­berry muffin in there.’

  ‘If you wanted to see a concert, we could have stayed in the city. There’s a Chopin program at Lincoln Center tonight.’

  ‘This is business,’ Claire said, poking at the basket. ‘Aha, there you are, you little devil. Thought you could escape me, huh?’

  ‘Will you please give me a straight answer? Are you telling me you’re here to watch a musician perform?’

  Claire nodded.

  ‘I didn’t know you handled musicians.’

  The agent sighed dramatically. ‘Please, let’s not talk about my sex life, OK? You know it only depresses me.’

  ‘Come on,’ Shannon laughed, ‘you know what I meant. I thought you only represented actors.’

  ‘I do, unfortunately. I should only be so lucky as to represent this guy. This is, well, a favor, you might say. Jerry Crawford asked me to take a look at the guy.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Is this guy a friend of Jerry’s or what?’

  Claire’s glance skidded away from Shannon’s. ‘I guess you’d call him an acquaintance,’ she said in a muffled voice, brushing crumbs from her ample lap.

  Shannon cocked her head to the side. ‘I must be missing something. You mean we came all the way out here to watch somebody Jerry Crawford hardly knows play the piano?’

  Claire shifted uneasily. ‘He doesn’t play the piano. He...’

  ‘Are you ladies ready to order?’

  ‘We certainly are,’ Claire said emphatically. ‘I’ll have the—let’s see—the cream of leek soup. And the meat loaf. Mashed potatoes with it, and, um, apple pie and ice cream.’ She looked across the table at Shannon and rolled her eyes. ‘Bring my friend a small salad...’

  ‘No dressing,’ Shannon warned.

  ‘Right. And a small steak, rare.’ Claire handed over their menus and settled back into her seat. ‘So,’ she said quickly, before Shannon could speak, ’how did things go today?’

  ‘Terrible,’ Shannon said with a sigh. ‘We taped to­morrow’s show—the others taped it, actually. I didn’t even have one line. And I told you that Tony and I re­hearsed our big scene.’ She waited while the waitress served her salad and Claire’s soup. ‘Crawford didn’t like my performance very much,’ she said, picking up her fork and toying with the greens before her.

  Her agent sipped carefully at a steaming spoonful of soup. ‘Are you sure? I thought he said that you and Tony weren’t giving the characters enough life.’

  ‘It comes to the same thing, doesn’t it? I’m an actress. I’m supposed to be able to tune out the cameras and the lights and the crew and concentrate on Tony.’ She grinned ruefully. ‘I’m even supposed to forget that I’m not Tony’s type.’

  ‘Females aren’t Tony’s type,’ Claire laughed.

  Shannon nodded. ‘Yes, but I’ve played love scenes before, Claire. I know that you don’t have to have some­thing going between you and the actor for the scene to sizzle. Maybe it’s just that this particular scene is tougher. You know, me in that damned bodysuit, Tony with his bare chest, all that moaning and clutching and rolling around in that stupid bed... ’ She lifted her eyes to the other woman’s and shook her head. ‘The craziest things keep going through my head while we’re playing the scene. Today it was laundry...’

  ‘Laundry?’

  Shannon nodded. ‘Yesterday, it was my Christmas card list. And the day before, it was. ’

  Claire held up her hand and groaned. ‘Spare me, will you? Let me keep some of my illusions, at least. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me that none of those sexy on-screen scenes are real.'

  Claire’s look of absolute innocence made Shannon grin.

  ‘OK, you’ve made your point. The illusion is what counts—I know that, sure. And I thought, at first, Tony and I had created the illusion. But Crawford wants more. He wants...’

  ‘Sparks,’ the agent said, sitting back as their main courses were served. ‘Body Heat.’ She cut into her meat loaf and looked up at her client. ‘He gave me the same speech he gave you.’

  ‘Jerry? Well, at least he’s consistent.’ Shannon swal­lowed a small piece of steak and frowned. ‘Which re­minds me—you still haven’t told me why Jerry wants you to see this musician tonight. Does he want your opinion of the guy’s performance or something?’

  Claire shrugged her shoulders. ‘Or something. Listen, tell me about this visit you people had today from Cade Morgan. I hear it was really something.’

  The agent’s voice was casual, but there was a glint in her eyes that made Shannon uncomfortable. She must know what had happened, Shannon thought unhappily. She had to. After all, Claire had come on the set only an hour after the whole awful scene. And Shannon had violated one of her agent’s cardinal rules.

  ‘Don’t draw negative attention to yourself,’ she always said, and that was exactly what Shannon had done, in front of her di­rector, the cast and the entire crew.

  Confess and get it over with, Shannon told herself. It could be worse. At least she was still employed.

  ‘Look, I don’t know what you heard,’ she said quickly. ‘I admit, it was a bit unpleasant for a while... ’

  Claire raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s not quite the way it was described to me.’

  ‘All right, I behaved like a jerk. But the man infu­riated me.’ Shannon’s fork clattered against the plate and she leaned across the table. ‘Picture this,’ she said, her voice an irritated hiss. ‘I rehearsed my fourth scene with Rima the Prima... ’

  ‘Careful. Someday, you’re going to slip and call her that to her face.'

  ‘Four scenes,’ Shannon repeated through gritted teeth, ‘and at least that many rehearsals, and the woman still looks right through me and calls me “Miss I’m-sorry-I- can’t-remember-your name”. And then I spent an hour panting in Tony’s ear, only to have Crawford tell me he didn’t see any sparks, and then Morgan walked in. You can’t imagine what went on, Claire. Until that minute, Jerry had been reminding everybody that we had moun­tains of work to do and no time to do it in, but once Morgan showed up, well, we had all the time in the world. God, but I am sick to death of celebrities!’

  ‘Shannon, dear, I know how you feel about this,’ Claire said quickly. ‘And you’re right. You should have the part Rima has.’

  ‘I had it, until Rima turned up wanting a “career in the theatre”,’ Shannon said bitterly. ‘My God, the ce­lebrity system at work! A celebrity can become an actor overnight, but all the rest of us have to keep at it for a lifetime.’

  ‘This is a better part for you, Shannon. You know it is. It’s a showcase for your talent.’

  ‘They’ve written the role down for her, Claire. She may be a “star”, but she can’t act. She doesn’t have to. Cade Morgan’s another one. No talent, but who cares?'

  ‘Don’t be so quick to write him off, sweetie.’

  ‘All I’m saying is that it was so damned typical—there we were, working our tails off, and in walks this.. .this
over-aged rock star...’

  ‘Come on, Shannon, be fair! The man’s thirty-something. Hardly a candidate for an old-age pension. And he’s multi-talented. He plays rock and blues and ballads, and then there’s all that classical stuff...’

  ‘He didn’t look very classical, not in that motorcycle outfit he was wearing. I guess that was his macho look...’

  ‘The script girl said he looked sexy,’ Claire smirked.

  ‘If you like the type,’. Shannon said stiffly.