by Nancy Warren
His night was extremely unproductive. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t work, he couldn’t get his mind to settle. He’d been around long enough now to see two sides of Ashley. He saw the woman who was so accustomed to hand-me-downs and left-overs that she had unconsciously begun to think of herself as second best. He also saw the outwardly tough, I-don’t-give-a-shit persona that she wrapped around her like armor. But there was a version of Ashley that he thought perhaps only he could see. The woman who saw through pretense because she had grown up with so much of it. The woman whose basic honesty and decency made him want to make the world a better place for her. He wanted her to be number one for a change. But was he ready? Was he really ready to take a woman who was engaged to a guy who might be an entitled twit, but who, on paper, looked like one hell of a catch? Was he going to try and lure her away from her engagement? And offer her what. Was he even ready to settle down?
Maybe he dwelt too much in the world of fantasy and fairytale and screenplays that had a definitive ending, but for Ashley he wanted a big fanfare of a happy ending. She deserved that. More than she deserved to wear her mother-in-law’s cast-off engagement ring, or her cousin’s fiancée’s discarded wedding dress. When Ashley got married, he wanted her to have everything exactly, perfectly, for her.
He got up early. He hadn’t slept well anyway. He calculated time zones and realized he could reach his parents while they no doubt sipped Prosecco on a terrace somewhere in Tuscany. He tried his mother’s cell phone and sure enough she answered right away. “Ben,” she cried when she heard his voice. “We were just talking about you.”
“Were you saying nice things?”
“Of course we were. But we don’t have very many nice things to say about that stupid actress who is making your life hell over there. How is that going?”
Trust his mom and dad to keep up with Hollywood gossip from half a world away. “It’s fine. The story’s dying down. These things always do.”
“Well, don’t do anything to fire it up again.”
He winced, knowing that was why he’d called her. “Lester says I have to stay away from women for at least a year.” He hadn’t meant to say that. And he knew his mother well enough to imagine she would poke away at each word, dragging out his meaning.
“And are you?” Yep, she’d nailed it.
“No.”
She made a soothing mother noise. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Of course he wanted to talk about it. And with someone whose advice he could trust. “Mom? Do you remember Ashley Carnarvon?”
“Of course I do. She’s Millicent and Duncan’s niece. And I see she’s getting married to one of the Van Hoffendams. Those old, wealthy families do like to intermarry.” There was a silence. Even across thousands of miles he could hear the gears whirring in her head. “I remember that girl had a real crush on you back when you were a teenager.” She didn’t put a question mark at the end of teenager, but it was implied.
“Well, she’s not a teenager anymore.”
“And the crush?”
He felt his eyes squint half shut as though the light coming in through the pool house window was too intense. “I think the crush is mutual this time.”
There was music playing somewhere on his mother’s side of the world, some Italian pop song. He waited for his mother to speak and she took her time answering. “What about her engagement?”
“Eric van Hoffendam is a dick.”
“And yet, apparently, Ashley has agreed to marry this dick.”
“I know. She’s making a big mistake.”
“And if she were free?”
“What do you mean, if she were free?”
“I remember her as a surly teenager who wanted to be accepted in that family so badly it made my heart ache. Now she’s found acceptance in a prestigious, wealthy family. She will most likely end up with a lovely home, be a member of exclusive private clubs, she’ll be asked to sit on charity boards… everything in her life will suddenly be first-class. Are you asking her to give all that up? And if she does, what are you offering?”
“Whose mother are you? Aren’t you supposed to want the best for me?”
“Of course I want the best for you. I also want to make absolutely sure that she isn’t desirable to you for the wrong reasons. First, because she lives in the same place as you and you see her all the time, and second, because she has the added attraction of being forbidden fruit.”
“I know. I thought of that. I don’t think that’s it. She’s the most honest person I’ve ever known.” He grinned in memory. “Brave, too.” Briefly, he told his mom about the gun incident. After she finished scolding him for letting one of his actors wave a real weapon around in front of a window, only then could she appreciate Ashley’s role. Then he told her about how Ashley had read some of the dialogue for his female protagonist and slammed it without pity.
“You let her read your script?”
“Some of it, yeah.”
“You never let anyone read your work until it’s finished.”
“I know, but she’s got incredible insights. And, like I said, because she’s so honest I know she’s not blowing smoke. If she’s so quick to tell me when something isn’t working, then I know that if she actually compliments me on a scene, or even a line of dialogue, that she’s sincere. Do you have any idea how hard that is to find in this city?”
“I can imagine. So, to recap: your agent, one of the top in the business, told you to stay away from women for a year for publicity reasons. Instead of following his advice, you have fallen for a woman whose engagement has been written up in the New York Times.”
“It’s kind of a mess, isn’t it?”
“Does she intend to end her engagement and run off with you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked her to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m scared.”
“Scared you’ll lose her? Or scared you’ll end up trapped?”
“If I knew the answer to that, maybe I could get a full night’s sleep.”
“Darling, I cannot tell you what to do. But you already broke that girl’s heart once. Be very careful before you do it again.”
“What about my heart?”
She chuckled softly. “I think maybe you need to listen to what it’s trying to tell you.”
He wondered if it wasn’t only his heart that was trying to tell him something. “You know what’s weird? They got engaged like a week before I got here and the wedding’s only a few weeks away. You go to those society things all the time. Don’t they usually take a year or even two to plan?”
“Absolutely. Is there some reason for this hurry?”
He rolled his gaze. “She’s not pregnant, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s not the only reason for a fast marriage.”
“What are the other reasons you can think of?” He’d racked his brain but hadn’t come up with much. But he wasn’t as well versed in social niceties as his mother was.
“I don’t know, could one of the parents be ill perhaps? And they want to see their son settled?”
“Everybody looked pretty healthy to me.” He thought back to the engagement party. “There was something strange going on at the engagement party, though. I walked into the conservatory and accidentally overheard a conversation between Duncan Carnarvon and Charles Van Hoffendam.” He relayed as much of it as he could remember. “I didn’t really understand what the judge had to do with it, but I went looking for him afterwards and he wasn’t at the party.”
“That’s odd. He and Duncan Carnarvon are very close. I would absolutely have expected him to be at Ashley’s engagement party, unless he was out of the country or something.”
“I asked Millicent and she seemed upset that he wasn’t there.”
“You think the judge has something to do with the quick marriage?” She sounded very puzzled. Which was exactly how he felt.
“I wish I could figure it out.”<
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“Darling, I know you make a great deal of money because of your active imagination, but don’t let it run away with you. This is real life, not one of your movies.”
“I know. And if I had any brains, I would pack up my computer, throw my socks and underwear back in my bag, and head back to my house.” The paparazzi had stopped hanging around his place. He knew the coast was clear for him to return. It was Ashley who was keeping him at the pool house.
“That would probably be the sensible course of action.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love to dad.”
“Are you going to be sensible?”
From the corner of his eye he saw a flash of green and a splash as Ashley dove cleanly into the pool. Was he going to be sensible? “Hell, no.”
While Ashley powered back and forth up and down the length of the pool, he brewed another pot of coffee. And he decided to pay an old family friend a visit. Maybe his mother was correct and he was making up stories, creating a mystery where none existed. But he’d been thinking for a few days that he wanted to talk to the judge. He had a key scene in his script involving a judge and he wanted to get the details right.
He phoned Judge Bailey’s house and the judge himself answered. When he identified himself, Ben heard pleasure in the older man’s voice as he said, “It’s good to hear from you, Ben. How are your parents?”
“They’re having a fantastic time in Italy. I just got off the phone with them, as a matter of fact, and they asked me to give you their best.”
“Isn’t that nice. Next time you’re talking to them, tell them I asked after them both.”
“I will. I was thinking of taking a drive down your way today.”
“It is a beautiful day for a drive. Would you like to come for lunch? Martha usually fixes something special on Sundays.”
“Can I bring a friend?”
The old man chuckled. “A lady friend?”
“Duncan Carnarvon’s daughter, Ashley. I’ve been staying at the pool house on their property. I’m teaching her how to drive.”
“Ashley Carnarvon. Well, well.” The tone was gruff, possibly sarcastic. But, after a moment, the judge said, “Of course. I’ll tell Martha we’ll have two extras at lunch today.”
“Look forward to seeing you, sir.”
He picked up the two mugs of coffee, and, as was his usual morning custom, slipped on dark glasses and carried the drinks out beside the pool. Either he’d misjudged, or she was doing a longer workout today, so he settled in one of the loungers, sipping his coffee and enjoying the morning until she was done.
“I could get used to this,” she said, wrapping a big towel around her and walking over to grab the cup of coffee he’d prepared for her. Her feet left wet prints on the cement edge by the pool. She acted exactly as she always did with him. That steamy kiss and their painful conversation in the car last night might never have taken place. She settled beside him and lay back, letting the sun warm her wet skin. “It is such a beautiful day. And I have the entire weekend off.”
He knew this, because she’d told him yesterday. Her boss had misunderstood when she’d ask for Saturday off to go to a wedding on Catalina Island, and given her the whole weekend off.
He was glad to see that there was no weirdness between them after the kiss yesterday and their strained conversation in the car. One of the best things about Ashley was that she didn’t hang on to old grudges. He had the strangest impression that when she jumped into the pool each morning it was a kind of rebirth, as though she washed off the old feelings and started each day brand new. He looked over at her. This was one of the highlights of his day, he realized, these few minutes they spent together over coffee before they both got on with their days. He said, “Do you feel like a drive to Manhattan Beach? I want to visit Judge Bailey. You could drive.”
“Why are you visiting the judge?”
“He’s an old family friend and I want to pick his brains about a plot point in my script.”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to do for the wedding.”
He was surprised how much he wanted her to come with him. “Come on. It’s a gorgeous drive down the coast, and he invited us for lunch.”
“You told him I was coming?”
“I said I might bring a lady friend.”
Her lips twitched. “You actually said lady friend?”
He shrugged. “He’s an old-fashioned guy.”
She sent him a glance from under spiky wet eyelashes. “He’s not the only one.”
“So? Will you?”
“Be your driver? Or your lady friend.”
He leaned closer. “Be both.”
She settled back in her lounger, moving her back around until she was more comfortable. “I don’t know. I could drive down the coast and enjoy a nice lunch, or I could go with Millicent and my mother to choose floral arrangements for the wedding.”
He made himself equally comfortable and pulled his shades down his nose so he could look at her over the top of them. “No contest.”
Chapter Sixteen
ASHLEY WASN’T COMPLETELY SURE WHY she chose a driving lesson and lunch with a man she barely knew over picking the flowers for her own wedding, but when Ben had asked her to go with him, she knew which she’d rather do.
She understood that she was acting crazy. She was engaged to Eric. So why could she not stop thinking about that kiss? It wasn’t just a kiss. She’d shared lots of kisses with other guys. None of them had ever made her feel as though something monumental had shifted. As though her life would never be the same. From one damn kiss?
He’d been as affected as she had, she knew he had. So why did he refuse to even talk about it? All that I have to finish my script and not date women for a year crap made her blood boil. Did he think kisses like that happened every day?
She had an awful moment when she wondered if every kiss was like that for him. If the magic wasn’t because of the two of them, but if he brought the magic himself. It traveled with him and he doled the magic out to lucky women now and then.
She showered and changed into a demure sundress, suitable for Sunday lunch with an older couple, and she knew that she was a sucker for punishment. But the truth was, life was about to change. Soon, Ben would go back to his life as a Hollywood screenwriter and she would begin her new life, married to Eric. It still seemed completely unreal to her. Eric acted as though nothing would change, but there was already a realtor sending them listings of suitable houses and she’d been invited to attend a meeting of The California Charitable Women’s Institute, whatever the hell that was. With Millicent.
Between them, Millicent and Melody and Tasmine-the-professional-bridesmaid and the official wedding coordinator seemed to have everything well under control. The truth was, when she went along to choose anything from the catering menu to the songs to be sung at the wedding service, she felt like the least important member of the party. If asked her opinion, she usually deferred to whatever they felt was best, mostly because she really didn’t care. She was used to doing whatever other people wanted. So, if her mother and future mother-in-law chose the flowers for the tables without her, she imagined everybody would be perfectly happy. And she would enjoy one more day with Ben. She knew there weren’t very many left before everything changed.
He’d been her dream man at fifteen. At twenty-five, he was still her dream man. Maybe that was her tragedy. She was letting her dream man go, and marrying her playmate.
She knew, however, that if Ben asked her, she’d go with him. Ashley had scoffed at love, at the idea of soul mates and true love for years. The truth, however, was that she had fallen in love with Ben when she was fifteen years old. Now, she loved him in a newer, more mature way. She hated to admit the truth, but she’d met the love of her life when she was a teenager. He hadn’t wanted her then, and it looked like he didn’t want her now.
She was a realist. She would enjoy his company for the little time remaining to them, she’d help him as much as she could
with his screenplay, enjoy every minute she could have with him, and then, when he left, she’d get on with her life as best she could. She had no illusions that she was the love of Eric’s life, so she didn’t feel like she was misleading him. He seemed to think that they could have a good marriage, and she was determined to do her best to be a good and faithful wife. Maybe that was enough. Maybe fairytales belonged in old musty books that got packed away in attics when little girls grew up.
Of course, no hint of her feelings showed on her face when she walked up the path and met Ben for what would probably be their last driving lesson.
Ben had also dressed up a little in order to lunch with Judge Bailey and his wife. He was freshly shaved, he’d taken a little time with his hair, and he wore a good pair of jeans and a shirt with sharp creases.
His eyes warmed when he saw her. “You look beautiful,” he said.
But not beautiful enough to change his life for, she thought. “Thanks.”
He tossed her the keys and she took her accustomed spot in the driver’s seat, then they headed out once more. She never grew tired of driving the coast road, of the endless surf and curving bays. Being a sunny Sunday there was a fair bit of traffic, but she didn’t care. Ben and she could talk about anything and everything. He made her laugh, he made her think, he made her feel as though what she said mattered. As though he listened. As they drew into the Manhattan Beach neighborhood where the judge lived, she said, “One of Eric’s best friends from college lives down here. The parents go away a lot so he comes down here to party.”
“Pretty nice playground.”
She followed his directions and pulled into the long curving drive of a Spanish-style mansion with red tile roofs and white stucco walls. Palm trees dotted the perfect green lawns and behind the house she could see the sparkling ocean.
The woman who answered the door didn’t seem like a maid. She was a middle-aged Latina woman with a big, welcoming smile. She didn’t wear a uniform so maybe she was the housekeeper. Ben seemed to know her. “Maria, how are you?”