“Carly?”
“Yes?”
“I will tell you about my paintings sometime. It’s just that they’re … not that particularly important right now. This theater is. My brother is. His wife and child are … and … and you are.”
• • •
What? Carly couldn’t believe her ears. She stared down in shock at the drawings in front of her. What did he mean by that? He didn’t mean it, couldn’t … at least not the part about her. He was trying to throw her off track. Well, so be it. It was shameful to pry anyway … she knew the reason why he didn’t want to talk about his work. It was none of her business, and she shouldn’t care. All she wanted was to flirt with him anyway, right?
She forced a coy smile on her face and looked up. “Sure. Sounds good to me, handsome. Now just tell me where that other ladder is, and I’ll get started on the border.”
Lost in their own thoughts, Carly and Asher worked in peaceful silence, managing to get a rough outline of the ceiling mural laid out by midnight. Although the pattern was full of leafy twists and turns around the edges, the central image of cherubs in a heavenly sky was easy to accomplish. Gazing up at their work from the aisle, Asher put his arm around Carly and squeezed.
“Not bad for two professionals, huh?” he said.
“Not bad at all,” she replied, “And you can’t imagine how relieved I am. As soon as we have this painted, I can actually work on the set for the show.”
Gazing around the theater, Asher raised his eyebrows. “I’d say you don’t have a lot to worry about.”
The wooden floor gleamed; the walls were completely re-plastered, and well over half the seats reupholstered. The proscenium arch stood bare, all of the old white paint painstakingly removed from the intricate carving. All that remained was to paint it with a thin layer of gold, finish the seats, and hang new curtains in the private boxes.
Carly rolled her eyes. “I’d say I do. I have to say that, even if I’m in good shape. It’s what keeps me under deadlines. Besides, aside from building the entire set, I still have to paint the graphics on the oleo curtain. I haven’t even ordered the fabric for that yet.”
Asher chuckled and pulled her up the aisle. “Well, when that time comes, I think I’m capable of helping you out. In the meantime, let’s get you into bed.”
Get her into bed? A delicious shudder ran up Carly’s spine. Careful. She needed to slow it down. It’s not like she actually planned to share a bed with the man, did she? Well … no. She couldn’t possibly. That would complicate things far beyond what she could handle right now. But she couldn’t let him know how his words affected her.
Pushing back her hair, she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “And just how do you plan to get me into bed, Asher Day?”
“Very cautiously, Ms. Foster,” he replied, laughing. “And very sweetly.”
“Sweet like sugar?” she teased.
“No, sweet like honey. Like warm honey,” he whispered in her ear.
Dammit, he was good at this.
Embarrassed, Carly switched on her flashlight in the inky blackness and walked ahead of him back to the hotel. Lights were on in the lobby. Who was still up at this hour? Pulling back the screen door, she peered inside.
Marilyn, in a black satin dressing gown with marabou feather trim, lay on a brocade sofa near the fireplace, cucumber slices over her eyes. The waist of the gown was cinched tight, accentuating a surprisingly small waist and rounded ample hips. Nicky knelt in front of her, massaging her feet tenderly. A pedicure set rested on a side table, a bottle of bright red nail polish next to it.
“What … are they playing beauty parlor?” Asher whispered behind her head. He bit back a chuckle as Carly elbowed him in the ribs.
Stepping in, she crossed over to the sofa. “I’m so glad to see that you’ve made yourselves comfortable, you two,” she said with a sincere smile.
Marilyn raised a slice from one eye. She grinned at Carly. “This place is wonderful, darling. So quaint. And I must thank you … you’re so generous.”
Carly’s brow furrowed, but she continued to smile. “You’re welcome, Marilyn, but what for?”
“For giving up your room, darling. Oh, you don’t mind, do you? I didn’t even bother to look at mine until after we took a glorious walk and cooked dinner. When I saw how teensy-tiny it was, I gave it to Nicky and took yours. But don’t worry. We moved your things to the bedroom next door to your old one.”
Carly gasped.
“Oh, I do hope you don’t mind.” Marilyn sat up. “I mean, yours was so cute with the wallpaper, and the other room was practically empty. Just a few art supplies and I assumed those were yours anyway … you were storing your things in that room, weren’t you?”
Carly’s eyes opened wider and she stared. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t share a room with Asher. No way. Out of the question. Suddenly she felt strong arms encircling her from behind. Her stomach plummeted as she felt Asher’s lips near her ear.
“We don’t mind, do we honey?”
Marilyn let out a belly laugh. “I thought there was something going on between you two. Well, then … it’s all settled isn’t it?”
No. This couldn’t be happening. Carly had to try to work something else out. She opened her mouth. “But I thought that you and Nicky would be sharing a room, Marilyn,” she said.
“Oh, honey, we do. But not all night. He’s a scrumptious man, but he snores like a bear,” Marilyn said, reaching out to tousle Nicky’s blond surfer locks. Nicky grinned and licked his lips.
Deep laughter burst from Marilyn’s throat. “Gotta love him. Oh, Nicky, you’re too much. Well … almost too much if you know what I mean.”
Carly chuckled weakly and closed her eyes as a not-so-unpleasant thrill ran through her. There was no way out of it now. Well, she would just have to convince Asher to leave her at the hotel and go to his cabin. Or at least try. Though she knew it wasn’t going to work.
Asher tightened his grip and rested his head on her shoulder. “It’s late, sugar plum. Don’t you think it’s time you went on up to … hit the sack?”
Carly stiffened in his embrace. Of all the nerve. Who did he think he was, anyway? Well the games weren’t over, but he had lost this match for sure. Forcing a smile, she extricated herself from his arms and turned to face him, making sure to brush every possible part of her body against him in the process. She gave him a light shove, and he stumbled backward, his eyes betraying his astonishment at her boldness.
Cornering him at the kitchen door, Carly ran a hand down his chest and then curled her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a breath.
She leaned closer and purred, “Oh, honey pie. How sweet of you to suggest it. I’d be so relieved to get that big ol’ bed all to myself tonight. But don’t worry; I’ll toss your favorite pillow and blankie down the stairs for you.”
Enjoying his shocked expression, Carly leaned up and nibbled on his chin, then kissed him soundly. “Good night … lover.” She shoved him again.
• • •
It was all he could do to catch himself before falling backward through the swinging door.
Okay. So the lady knew how to play games. Well, he’d give points for this one tonight, but it wasn’t anywhere near over. Asher turned to watch her from behind as she pranced up the winding staircase. Damn, she was something else. So smart. And funny. And so talented … she had proved that earlier down at the theater. He had doubted her artistic abilities … didn’t a set designer just draft and measure?
Well, she had proved him wrong. And did again, tonight. Asher sighed, leaned on the banister and looked up. A fluffy pillow tumbled down and smacked him in the face, followed by a scratchy wool blanket. He spit a piece of lint out of his mouth.
“You’ve got it bad, don’t you bo
y?” Marilyn asked. She heaved herself up from the sofa and slipped her feet into black satin stiletto mules.
Asher turned and opened his mouth. Then closed it. Marilyn stood, tapping her foot, determined, mischievous eyes boring holes straight through him. There was no arguing with this battle axe. He raised a finger and jabbed it in her direction.
“If you tell her, I’ll make sure that you end up on stage from head to toe in bright, shiny pink,” he whispered. “With a clown wig. I’m a producer, and I can make it happen.”
Marilyn threw her head back and hooted. “Child, I’m not scared of you.” She sauntered over and pinched his cheek. “And neither is Ms. Carly Foster. Although I can see why she’s attracted. You’re a stud.” Laughing at his glowering face, Marilyn eased past him and glided up the stairs, her hips swishing. “Don’t worry, though … your secret’s safe with me.”
Nicky followed after her, slapping Asher on the back on his way up. “Tough break, man. See ya tomorrow.”
Grumbling, Asher took the bedding and stomped to the sofa, flipping off the lights as he passed the front desk. Settling down in the chilly darkened lobby, he folded his long legs onto the short sofa and pulled the rough blanket to his chin. He lay still for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the wind blowing through the pine trees. That should be enough to lull anyone to sleep, he reasoned. But not him. He shifted and then sat up, his body still smoldering from the memory of Carly’s hands.
This was stupid. He had a right to sleep in a bed in his own hotel, didn’t he? He should just go up there, open her door, and … and … what? Do what? Exactly. He knew what he wanted to do. What, deep down, she wanted to do. But actually seducing her would not be in anyone’s best interest right now. Sighing, Asher laid back down, turned over and jammed the pillow over his head.
• • •
Out in the shadows, Wheeler Barstow crouched by the hotel’s porch and slammed his large fist into the dusty ground. Damn them. It was pretty obvious that Carly had quickly forgotten about the man who had rescued her on her first day in Ruby Spring. And it was pretty obvious just who had helped her forget.
Pulling a pint of whiskey from his shirt pocket, Wheeler took a greedy swallow and wiped the burning liquid from his wet lips. He narrowed his eyes as he thought again about his girl running her hands all over Asher Day. Wheeler had suspected something was going on there, but now he had proof. Solid proof.
Asher Day. That artsy-fartsy bastard. He had stolen a different girl from Wheeler years ago, and Wheeler had made him pay then. Well, it seemed that Asher hadn’t learned his lesson, had he? Felt that he had to have Wheeler’s woman panting after him even now. It was enough to make any man furious, but Wheeler wasn’t just any man. Fuck, no! He was Deputy Sheriff Barstow, and he made the rules.
Unscrewing the top of his bottle again, Wheeler stood up and drained it. It was a long walk back up to his cruiser, but he didn’t care. He had to see for himself what his girl had been up to, and now he knew. And it was gonna stop. With a vicious throw, he sent the bottle sailing into the nearby bushes and began to weave up the road.
Chapter Nine
Ross burst through the back door of the costume shop. “Carly, are you in here?”
He ran through the back hallway and into the large, sunny work area. Carly, wearing overalls and a baseball cap stood by the brand new front door, adjusting a deadbolt lock with a screwdriver.
“There you are.” Ross plopped down near the door on one of the large window seats that had served as a display area when the costume shop had been a hardware store. “I’ve got it. I’ve got it all figured out.”
Carly turned the screwdriver one last time and shoved it into her pocket. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“It seemed impossible, but I know what to do with Marilyn … who is a fabulous actress, by the way.”
Carly made a cutting motion across her throat. “Shhh,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder.
“What?” Ross demanded, looking around. “No, no, no. I’m not complaining. She’s like a modern-day Mae West. All I need to do is shift some dialogue and blocking around, and the ingénue role becomes the full-figured, older, sexy, heroine role.”
Carly widened her eyes, made the cutting motion again, and jerked her head toward the racks of costumes standing in the middle of the shop. “Ross! Keep your voice down. She’s back there,” she whispered in an anxious voice.
Ross raised an eyebrow. “What’s with you today? It’s okay. Nancy needs to hear this anyway. I hate to do this to her, but she has to get rid of all the frilly stuff she designed for the ingénue. We need sexy … like whorehouse madam sexy.” He jumped up and began pacing. “I’m thinking … something in a deep blue … with some kind of swishy trim or something … ”
Muffled giggles came from between the two racks. The costumes rustled and swayed. Smiling, Ross tiptoed over.
“Nancy … are you hiding from me? Don’t worry, Sweetie, I’m only asking for three or four new costumes.”
Nancy poked her frizzy head out from between the men’s suits, grinning. “How about one costume? At least for now … and I mean right now.” With a flourish, she pushed aside the trousers and gestured grandly. “Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Madame Marilyn Masters.”
Marilyn stepped boldly forward and posed one hand in the air and one on a hip. Ross’s mouth dropped open and Carly clapped her hands in delight. Marilyn was absolutely stunning.
Clad in a deep wine-colored taffeta 1880s bustle gown, she was corseted tightly. The resulting effect whittled her waist to nothing and pushed her wide hips out in a provocative way. Her generous cleavage spilled out of the top of the square neckline, and short satin sleeves covered her arms, ending in froths of black lace just below the elbow. Yards and yards of foot-long black fringe swished on the skirt as she turned slowly in front of Ross. Her long blonde hair was caught up in a graceful sweep behind an ear, secured with a jeweled clip containing two large ostrich plumes.
Teasingly, Marilyn pulled aside a slit in the skirt to reveal black fishnet stockings. Never wasting an opportunity to be funny, she had stuck a dollar bill in the red garter around her thigh. She pulled it out, dropped the skirt, and sashayed over to Ross.
“Hey, big boy. Take this and buy me a shot of whiskey,” she said in a throaty voice.
Ross snapped it up, playing along. “You’ll get all the shots you want if you look like that every night until this show closes,” he responded.
Carly clapped again and walked over to shake Nancy’s hand. “I am duly impressed, colleague.”
Blushing, Nancy began plucking imaginary lint off the skirt of Marilyn’s costume. “It’s not that big a deal. Marilyn came and talked to me a couple of days ago. I’m not always the calmest person, but I do know how to communicate with my actors.”
“That’s undeniable,” Ross commented, after he walked around Marilyn slowly and whistled. Impulsively, he grabbed Nancy in a giant bear hug.
“You’re so awesome,” he declared, “Filling in onstage for the lead, dealing with your costume being trashed, and now building this beautiful dress in less than two days.” He kissed her cheek and held her at arm’s length.
Nancy blushed again. Tears glimmered in her eyes, and she brushed them away impatiently. “Now see? I’ve turned from super woman back into psycho woman.”
“What costume was trashed?” Marilyn asked as she adjusted her cleavage and pursed her lips.
Carly raised an eyebrow at Ross. “I don’t mean to change the subject, but I have an idea. If we use Marilyn dressed like this in our publicity photos, we’ll sell out the house every night.”
“Imagine that, little ol’ me on a poster,” cried Marilyn, fluttering her fake eyelashes.
“Oh, please. How many theater posters have you been on in your life?” demanded Ross.
“Sixty-two,” said Marilyn matter-of-factly.
“I believe it,” Carly said, shaking her head in admiration. She glanced at Ross. He looked completely relieved. And though he hadn’t talked about it much, she knew that he was worried about the show being a disaster. Now it was almost guaranteed to be a hit. As long as nothing else happened to upset things, they were in good shape. So far, though, the track record for smooth sailing wasn’t good at the Ruby Spring Theater. Carly thought of Wheeler and shuddered.
Damn him. She was sick of worrying about that pathetic excuse for a man. Shaking it off, she walked back to the front door and turned the bolt. “Well, guys, this seems to be working just fine. I have to get back over to the hotel to get ready to go to Albuquerque. Asher told me that if I was gone more than fifteen minutes, he was going to come and find me.”
Marilyn smiled struck another pose. “You should let him come and find you, honey. Keep a man guessing, that’s what I always say.”
Ross chuckled and laid a hand on her outstretched arm. “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. Asher is kind of looking after her. Carly has been having … issues with some idiot she dated who’s been, well … bothering her.”
Marilyn dropped her arm. “What? I thought that she and lover-boy were just hot and heavy.” She paused. “Do Carly’s issues have something to do with the mysterious trashed costume?”
Carly laughed nervously and opened the door. “Ross, you never fail to suck the life right out of me.”
“Well, she has a right to know,” he retorted.
“That’s fine,” said Carly in a level voice, “but could you please not remind me about it? I’m trying to get a job done here.” Sticking her nose in the air, Carly walked through the door, closing it behind her.
She had done fine for the past three days, changing the subject every time Ross had mentioned Wheeler. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but the constant worry was wearing on her nerves. That and having to deal with Asher in her room every night. Poor guy, he was getting sick of sleeping on the floor. Carly sighed and kicked at a rock in her path.
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