Paul conceded with a nod of his head. “Nighttime drama. Nothing is forever. The letters poured in after Donna’s demise, so I did a little string pulling and voilà, my girl’s back on the job.”
“Paul, I’m not your girl.”
“Yes, so I hear.” His lips tightened. “There’s a meeting next week. I left a message with Susannah’s secretary, but I thought I’d come see you personally.”
Cammie’s head whirled with the news. It was more likely that Paul had nothing to do with this extraordinary turn of events; he was just good at taking the credit. But the idea of returning to Cherry Blossom Lane was one she hadn’t considered in the least, given the way she’d been summarily dismissed.
She couldn’t do it. Not with a baby on the way. Not with the delicacy of this pregnancy. She’d already determined that as soon as Rock Bottom wrapped she was taking time off—to plan a wedding and prepare for a baby.
Still, it was nice to be wanted back.
Her thoughts tripped like lightning, and seeing Paul watching the rapid series of expressions across her mobile face, Cammie cleared her throat. “I’ll—I’ll talk to Susannah,” was her unsatisfactory answer.
“First shows start shooting next week.”
“Paul!” she laughed in exasperation.
“Donna doesn’t have to resurrect until later. You might not be needed on the set until the end of September. We’ll work it out!”
“PAUL!”
“What?” he demanded.
“You’re not my husband, nor are you my boss. Go away and I’ll let you know,” she said a bit more gently.
He pinched his lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Cammie—”
“Good-bye, Paul.” She grabbed his elbow and turned him toward the exit door. “We’ll do lunch…”
* * *
On Cammie’s last day of work on Rock Bottom Karen Walthers delivered a healthy baby girl. With tremulous joy, Cammie headed to Karen’s home the day after wrapping her first feature film. Karen had just gotten home that morning and looked radiant, tired, and a bit bewildered all at once. Cammie carefully and gently cradled the little bundle swaddled in a pink blanket in her own quivering arms.
“You are so lucky,” she told Karen on a half whisper.
“I know.” The proud mother beamed.
“I hope one day that I’ll be able to have a child.”
“You will,” Karen assured her, a bit perplexed by Cammie’s uncertain emotional state.
“Yes,” Cammie agreed, nodding. Then, “Yes,” more firmly, as if saying the words would make them come true.
She’d had some spotting. Not much, but enough to alarm the heck out of her. Dr. Crawley had been cautiously concerned, but an examination proved everything was still all right as far as they could tell at this early date.
Ty was currently out of town. He’d returned to the cabin in Bayrock to liberate some belongings he’d put in storage and tie up some loose ends. He’d asked Cammie to accompany him, but she’d been too nervous. She was half inclined to take to her bed indefinitely, but since the bleeding had stopped and everything looked okay, she’d chosen instead to keep everything status quo. No need to panic yet, though she had no plans for work in the immediate future.
Though Cammie had assured her agent she couldn’t take on the role of Donna Jenkins right now, Susannah insisted she meet with the producers and staff of Cherry Blossom Lane anyway. Susannah was naturally distressed and confused by Cammie’s reluctance, unaware of Cammie’s condition.
“For pete’s sake, hon,” she pointed out on the phone the night before. “This is your bread and butter. Sign on for a year, that’s all. Then Rock Bottom will come out, and who knows! Instant stardom—after years and years of obscurity, of course,” she added dryly, referring to the fact that every “instant” star had a history somewhere.
“I don’t think it’ll work out,” Cammie vacillated.
“One meeting! Good heavens! They’re apt to recast. Do you want that?”
“No-o-o—”
“Then, what?”
There was nothing to do but tell her the truth. “Susannah,” Cammie confided, chewing on her lower lip. “I’m pregnant.”
“I knew it,” she breathed. “Oh, my God. Oh. What about—?”
“It’s a long shot,” Cammie agreed. “I may not make it full term.”
“Oh, wow. Oh, wow.” A pause, while she reassessed. “Ty knows, I hope.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Good. Good…” Cammie could practically hear the gears turning in Susannah’s head. “Okay, then. What’ll we tell Cherry Blossom Lane? You don’t want to work, I take it. Or, can’t you at all?”
“I’m afraid to,” Cammie admitted.
“Right. I understand. Well…that puts a new wrinkle on things! Oh, man. The publicity. We’ve gotta get that wedding going! Don’t tell Karen about this yet. She’ll try to put some plan together and she’s got her own little baby to take up her time at the moment. I’ll think of something,” Susannah went on, more to herself than Cammie. “Don’t you worry about a thing—Mom.”
As she hung up the phone, a lump in Cammie’s throat swelled until it nearly choked her. She’d had to sit down for a few minutes and struggle to pull herself together. Now, cuddling Karen’s pink-faced angel, she thought briefly of confiding her news to the publicist, but in the end, she took Susannah’s advice and refrained. Anyway, her news was too fragile, too easily spread, and if she should miscarry again, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle the public knowing as well. It would be bad enough handling the disappointment on her own.
Ty returned the following Tuesday, catching a taxi at the airport and heading straight for Cammie’s apartment. No photographers lay in wait, as enough time had passed to take Ty and Cammie off the front page, at least for the moment. Slinging his overnight bag over one shoulder, Ty wrestled with the bouquet of roses he’d picked up on the run. He mounted the stairs two at a time, then leaned against the buzzer with his elbow.
Cammie opened the door, and Ty swept in on a startled breath. She wore a red velveteen bathrobe that skimmed her feet and left a narrow V from the hollow at her throat to the center of her breasts. Her hair lay in soft, touchable auburn waves, brushing her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. Turquoise eyes sparkling with merriment greeted him and she leaned up to kiss his jaw.
“I’ve been waiting ever since you called from the airport,” Cammie whispered. “Oh!” she cried, as he slid the roses from behind his back and placed them in her hands.
“For you, my love.”
It shocked Ty sometimes how far he’d come in accepting Cammie as the woman he loved. As she clasped his now free hand and led him inside, he marveled at how comfortable, how right it felt to be with her. There was such a thing as romantic love after all. He just hadn’t experienced it until now.
Cammie put the roses in a narrow vase, fussing until the heavy, fragrant red blossoms tilted to her satisfaction. “Thank you,” she said, admiring their nodding heads.
“I figured it was time to celebrate the beginning of our life together,” Ty said, dropping his bag on one of the kitchen chairs. At Cammie’s bewildered look, he added, “If it’s all right with you, I’m finished with hotel living.”
“Good!” She was glad he would be with her.
“I’ve started looking for a place; the real estate agent’s got a couple of houses in mind already. Later this week, we can check them out and see if they’re up to your satisfaction.”
“You’re buying a house?”
“We’re buying a house,” he corrected. “I’ve still got my other one, but I’d like to have something new for us. A place with no memories except the ones we make together.”
Cammie was thrilled. “I’d love to look at houses.”
“Good. Now, c’mere and sit on my lap and tell me how much you’ve missed me,” he growled. “You can’t wear that robe without letting me find out what’s underneath
it.”
“A whole lotta nothin’,” she admitted, sliding onto his lap and slowly untying the loose belt. Ty slipped his hands around her narrow rib cage, his thumbs just beneath her breasts.
“Mmmm,” he murmured, kissing the downy curve of her jawline while the pads of his thumbs brushed her nipples.
Cammie could feel the thrill right to the center of her womanhood. Unable to stop herself, she squirmed atop him, causing a deep chuckle somewhere in Ty’s chest.
“You like that,” he said with pure masculine superiority.
“So do you,” she countered, feeling the hard evidence of his reaction to her provocation.
“Maybe we ought to move to the couch.”
Ty picked her up and carried her to the love seat, pulling her down atop him. Her hands reached for his belt buckle. A soft jingle as it slipped apart, then she set about on an exploration of her own that had him straining his hips to meet her tender touch.
“Cammie,” he muttered, sliding the robe from her ivory shoulders and tossing it on the floor. She wore nothing underneath, and with swift movements he removed his shirt, pants, and underwear, then he twisted onto his back, pulling her full length upon him.
She realized, dimly, that he was holding back, and she lifted her head from a deep, delicious kiss. “What?”
“Is it—all right? I mean, tell me if you think we should be more careful.”
Realizing he meant the baby, she whispered, “I think we’re okay. Just no whips and chains this time.”
His lips curved beneath hers. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”
Then there was no more teasing. His hands on her hips guided her over his straining erection. Cammie took him fully inside her, in the way they’d grown so used to feeling. It was as if they’d been made for each other, and now, with some history between them, she easily matched his movements in a familiar rhythm, adding soft sighs and touches in the way that pleased him, and therefore herself, the most.
The pace quickened. Desire licked through her and she moved faster and faster. Another time it would have been embarrassing, the way she rode him, but she knew Ty enjoyed it as much as she did, and with the confidence of his love, she let her emotions run wild. Her hips moved rapidly. Ty’s breathing shortened with the tempo. She heard him moan and instantly slowed down, but he would have none of it. His hands grasped her buttocks and he physically moved her until suddenly she was on the brink.
“Ty…” she moaned.
“God, Cammie,” he ground out through clenched teeth, then groaned as she felt the hot spill of his seed inside her. The next moment her own climax took hold and she cried out, clinging to him as his hips thrust hard against hers.
In the quiet aftermath, she smiled to hear their rapid heartbeats slowly return to normal levels. “I love you,” he murmured, tucking sweat-dampened tendrils of her hair behind her ears.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
The future was theirs for the taking. They had each other, a love that bound them, plans for a home to share and a baby to adore on the way. A family, Cammie realized, hugging Ty close. Finally. A family of her own!
Lazily, Ty drew his tongue along the edge of her ear. Cammie shook her head.
“You’re tickling me.”
“That’s the idea.”
“No, no…” She climbed to her feet and, ignoring Ty’s groan of protest, slipped the red robe back on, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Time for other sustenance besides the fulfillment of the flesh!”
“Do we have to?”
She grinned at his “little boy” pout. “Yes.”
While Ty reluctantly redressed, Cammie searched in her small refrigerator for some kind of makeshift meal. She was hungry. Pregnancy had created a ravenous monster inside her.
“How about an omelet? I’ve got cheese, scallions, and mushrooms.”
“Sounds great.” Ty opened his bag and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers that looked vaguely familiar. Cammie glanced at the manuscript and realized he’d brought his own screenplay, Father Knows Worst, to Los Angeles.
“Are you thinking of selling it?” she asked in surprise.
“Good God, no. I just saw it when I was in Bayrock, and I remembered how I felt when I wrote it. It was so hard, and there was so much anger, I just…” He broke off, frowning, struggling for the words. Lifting eyes to meet hers, he said simply, “I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t need it, the catharsis, I mean.”
“So, what are you going to do with it?”
“I don’t know. I think I’ll change the ending and then put it away somewhere. I might get a good laugh out of it someday.”
“Why would you change the ending?” She cracked eggs into a bowl and stirred them up with a wire whisk.
“Because it’s not right anymore.”
Cammie thought of Ty’s protagonist’s continued anger and hurt over his father’s callousness, even to the bitter end, and she looked over at him for explanation.
“The father character is flawed and selfish, but he’s not an object of hate. He’s not wicked, he’s just misguided and riddled with self-doubt, and he uses people. Spencer finally realizes it,” Ty added, referring to his protagonist. “He comes full circle and all the old animosity vanishes.”
“That’s a nice ending,” Cammie said softly as she poured the eggs into the frypan and added grated cheddar and chopped green scallions. The mixture sizzled gently, breakfast aromas filling the air.
“I just wanted to finish it,” he explained, shrugging.
“Of course.”
“But it’s not for sale.”
“Your life is not for sale,” she said, showing she understood as she slid the fluffy, folded omelet onto a plate and set it on the table in front of him. “Eat up, my love.”
“What about you?”
“I’m making mine right now. Have I told you how much I love you?” she asked happily.
“Never,” he lied, digging into the omelet with gusto.
She sang out, “I love you like the sea loves the shore, like the wind loves the trees, like the day loves the dawn.”
“You’ve got to get a little more original or I’m outta here,” he teased around a mouthful of food.
“Hey, I made dinner. My poetry is the price you pay.”
With that, Ty couldn’t stand it anymore. Shoving back his plate, he came up behind her as she whipped up more eggs, grabbing her around the waist and kissing the back of her neck. Cammie squealed in surprise and tried to elbow him away.
“I’ll spill it!”
“Go right ahead.”
“Mr. Stovall, go sit down and finish your meal. The kiddo and I are hungry, and you’re getting in the way.”
He dropped her at once, looking stricken. “Why didn’t you say so? I didn’t have to eat.”
“Oh, for pete’s sake. Sit down. Finish your meal. I’ll have mine in a minute and then we’ll—pick up where we left off. You don’t need to coddle me,” she added when he still didn’t move. Pushing at him gently, she said, “But don’t get between a pregnant woman and her food!” she warned with mock seriousness.
Lifting his hand in the traditional, Boy Scouts twofingered pledge of honor, Ty vowed solemnly, “I pledge to be good from now on.”
“Have I told you how much I love you?” “Later,” he suggested, wiggling his brows at her, and they laughed together.
Thursday dawned gray and smoggy, depressing after several clearish days of pale-blue sky and high hopes. Cammie ignored the pall and concentrated on her own plans. She’d reluctantly agreed to go with Susannah to the production offices of Cherry Blossom Lane. Susannah had promised not to spill the secret of Cammie’s pending birth, but she refused to completely give up the idea that Cammie could be reinstated on the show.
“Maybe there’s a way to make it all work out,” she insisted. “Never say never.”
They drove to the television studio together in Susannah’s car, though Cammie felt som
e tiny, sharp pains in her abdomen. Was this normal? she fretted. Was it a normal part of pregnancy, or her endometriosis? Or was it the harbinger of something worse?
She didn’t want to think about it. With damp palms, she followed Susannah down the familiar hallways that led to the offices, sound stage, and dressing rooms of Cherry Blossom Lane.
Paul was waiting for them, arms outstretched as if he were welcoming a long-lost relative. “Come in, come in. You look a little tired, Cammie. Here, let me take that.”
He reached for her handbag, a huge faux alligator monster that Cammie habitually slung over her shoulder. Dumping the thing was a relief, and Cammie realized belatedly that she’d stuffed Father Knows Worst inside its depths when Ty forgot to replace the manuscript in his bag. She intended to return it to him tonight when she met him at one of the houses from the realtor’s list, the one he liked best. The plan was, he would call on her cell phone and give her the address later today.
“Thanks,” Cammie said gratefully.
Paul shrugged and placed the bag next to his desk. “Let’s get down to business.” He indicated where he wanted Cammie and Susannah to sit. Moments later, several other members of the decision-making force for Cherry Blossom Lane showed up, and everyone shook hands and started negotiations. Cammie’s mind wandered; she couldn’t help herself. As much as she’d loved working on the program, her life was moving in new directions and she had no great desire to go backward.
But when money was brought up, she stared at Glen Edwards, the man who’d offered the deal, in utter surprise. “Why am I worth so much more now?” she asked, the answer pounding into her brain even before the final syllable was formed: She was Tyler Stovall’s girlfriend.
Her cheeks pinkened while Glen stuttered around for a viable explanation. Words like “recognition of worth” and “ratings bonanza for the season finale” and “association of your face with the character of Donna Jenkins” were filled with elements of truth. However, the true reason was a slap in the face, and Cammie grew angry at the inequities of a system she already knew wasn’t fair.
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