The Role of a Lifetime

by Jennifer Shirk

  She shook her head, amusement in her eyes. “Baby, this is your vacation. You report there tomorrow morning at nine.”

  Sandra arrived for work the next morning already in full-blown stressed-out mode. Hannah was cranky and battling a case of the sniffles, there was no coffee in the house, Sandra’s favorite lipstick was MIA, and to top it all off, she was late. Sort of.

  Her preschool was open from 9:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m., five days a week, but she liked to be there at least an hour ahead of time to prepare snacks and go over the lesson plans. Now, she felt panicky since she only had forty-five minutes—correction, forty-four minutes—before opening.

  She took out her key to open the front door, but it swung open before she could stick it in the lock. Damn broken alarm! Jumping in front of Hannah, she dropped her handbag. The perpetrator bounded into view and she took a step backward.

  “Missy!” she cried. She dropped her arms from their Jackie Chan position, thankful she wasn’t going to have to put those self-defense classes to the test. “I didn’t see your car. What are you doing here so early?”

  “What do you mean?” her sister asked, sounding defensive. “We both own this preschool. Can’t I arrive early and get everything ready for the day too?”

  Sandra walked in and frowned as she bent down to unbutton her daughter’s jacket. For one thing, she couldn’t help but be suspicious. Her younger sister was never early for work. Missy usually had a fun, carefree attitude to most things in life, which made it even more surprising to hear the nervous tone in her voice. Sandra wondered what she was going to have to forgive her for.

  As soon as she was set free of her coat, Hannah scurried into the playroom. Sandra watched her go then turned back to Missy. She was about to open her mouth again when something struck her as odd as she assessed her sister’s appearance. Missy looked extremely…pretty. Not that her sister wasn’t normally an attractive young woman, but it appeared as if she’d taken more than just the average I’m-only-impressing-four-year-olds care in getting ready this morning.

  With short, curly blonde hair Missy usually let run wild in a young-Meg-Ryan style, she often gave the impression of being younger than she actually was. But today, dressed in a sensible jean skirt and maroon-colored blouse, she looked every month of her twenty-five years. She’d even managed to tame her curls quite nicely and wore lipstick—Sandra’s MIA lipstick—when she usually ran makeup-free. Missy looked more like a teacher and less like a student, which was a nice change of pace, so Sandra decided to keep her mouth shut about the favorite lipstick swiping.

  “You can help,” Sandra said. “But this is the first time you’ve taken that initiative since we opened.”

  Her sister swallowed. “Oh. Sorry. Well, I’m starting today.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t everything be okay?”

  “You tell me.” She tried to step past to get to her office, but Missy jumped in front of her.

  “I will,” Missy said breathlessly. “Until then—don’t go in your office.”

  Oh, no. Tell me she didn’t just say that. She squeezed her eyes closed and began counting to ten, but only made it to two before they sprung open again. “You didn’t do anything stupid like order new office furniture we can’t afford, did you? Or maybe have some sort of accident and ruin all our files?”

  Her sister smiled and shook her head, sending curls swaying against her cheek. “Nope, nothing like that.”

  She blew out a relieved breath. “Okay, then. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. So, what’s up?”

  Her sister’s face lit up, looking ready to burst. “Well, I took it upon myself to help out our business with a little publicity.”

  Sandra couldn’t share her enthusiasm. Publicity cost money. They couldn’t keep up with the incoming bills as it was. “What kind of publicity?”

  “The kind that causes a special buzz when people hear about our preschool. The kind that’s going to separate us from the rest. It’s funny how it fell into our laps. You’re going to be so surprised.”

  She hated surprises—and Missy darn well knew that. Why couldn’t she have a less spontaneous sibling? “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s my surprise?”

  Missy couldn’t seem to contain her excitement and did a little dance in place. “It’s not what’s your surprise, but who’s your surprise.”

  She hated those kinds of surprises the most. “What do you mean?”

  Missy shifted out of her way. “Take a look.”

  Sandra placed her hand on the doorknob, hesitating enough to allow one more glance back at her sister. When everything appeared harmless enough, she threw open the office door. And froze. She was surprised all right. Although, surprise was really a mild word for the limb-numbing reaction she experienced when her eyes landed right on the ex-con—in all his hairiness—she remembered from the park.

  The hairy man stood to his above-and-beyond-six-feet height, causing her to stumble backwards and bang her elbow on the door frame. Her breathing came to a complete stop and, adding to her shock, he had the nerve to look pleased. “Wow, we meet—”

  That’s all she allowed him to get out before she slammed the door in his face.

  Her heart felt like it was going to shoot out of her chest, and she couldn’t utter a single sound. The expression on her face must have said it all, because her sister grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

  “Sandra, speak to me,” she said urgently. “What’s wrong?”

  Sandra had to try several times before she had a voice. “Th-that’s the man I told you about from the park. The one who was trying to con us,” she said, rubbing her elbow.

  Her sister looked puzzled. “It can’t be.”

  “Trust me. It is.” She swallowed and took a deep breath, her mind racing with what to do next. “Okay, I’ll go in there and find out what he wants, but I want you to dial 9-1, and then if I give you the signal, dial the other 1. Everything will be okay.” She held her head in her hands, trying to summon enough courage to go back in there.

  “Of course everything will be okay,” Missy said, patting her back. “That man in your office isn’t a criminal.”

  Her head popped up. “What? How do you know?”

  “Don’t you recognize him? He’s a celebrity.”

  The office door swung open, shifting their attention. The bearded man stepped out, apparently deciding it was safe now, and leaned his body up against the door frame.

  “You know, I wouldn’t quit to work for the Welcome Wagon if I were you,” he said irritably. He shrugged and stuck out his hand. “By the way, name’s Ben Capshaw. Maybe you’ve seen some of my movies.”

  The Grace Kelly blonde studied his face for almost a full minute before giving his hand a lazy glance. “I know who you are, now.”

  Hmmm, tough crowd. The woman continued to study him with cold speculation in those baby blues of hers, and even though she said she recognized him, she still didn’t want to take his hand. Obviously not a big fan. Too bad. He’d love to be on friendlier terms with her, because he could see he was right about her being attractive—gorgeous even—in an unpretentious sort of way. And bonus, no ring on her finger.

  He sighed inwardly at the wasted opportunity. Okay, if she wanted to give him open hostility, he’d take it on the chin like a man. Her actions might even be justified. After all, he had scared her down to her panties. Twice.

  Tired of having his hand suspended in midair, he shoved it in his pocket. “I guess I gave you quite a shock.”

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, you did. You know you could have said something yesterday instead of giving me heart failure like that. I thought you were a murderer or something.”

  He feigned hurt. “Believe me, I tried to tell you. You took off in a full sprint before I could explain. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, isn’t that sweet?” Missy said dreamily. “Mr. Capshaw said he was sorry.”

  As blue-gray icicles began to form in the other
woman’s eyes, he doubted very much she thought anything about him was sweet.

  “It wasn’t funny,” she told him. “I had my child to think of, you know. Do you get your kicks out of scaring people like that?”

  “Of course not. Look, Miss…”

  “Moyer,” she snapped.

  “Sandra,” Missy offered at the same time.

  Oh, naturally, he thought. Her name was Sandra. Yeah, she definitely looked like a Sandra-don’t-call-me-Sandy kind of person, all coolly poised yet full of attitude—like a drama queen herself. He should know. He’d been around enough of them in his line of work. He didn’t know why, but the thought that she was like the rest of the women out there had him feeling a little disappointed.

  “Okay, Miss Sandra,” he bit out. “I think you’re overreacting big time. I wasn’t trying to be funny or scary. I was trying to be…cute. Besides, I don’t think I look that bad.” His agent may have told him he looked like a hermit, but Denise hadn’t said anything about being at axe-murderer status.

  She snorted. “Have you looked in a mirror? Besides, I don’t think it was cute pretending to be stuck in a slide, playing knight-in-distress. What’s the matter, your co-star didn’t fall under your spell, or has Hollywood run out of women to play up to?”

  “Whoa.” He shot up his index finger and held it in front of her face. “Wait a damn minute. I don’t need any excuses to talk to women. I do just fine on my own. Just fine.”

  Missy shook her head in wonder. “This is so cool. My sister and Ben Capshaw are having an argument right in front of me. Where’s my video camera when I really need it?”

  Sandra ignored her sister and proceeded to turn that perfect nose of hers right up in the air at him. “Did you honestly think I was going to fall for what you were doing, like all those other bimbos? I mean, really, what kind of idiot gets himself stuck in a children’s slide?”

  He looked down and faked a cough, hoping it was before she saw him blush. When did he become such a pansy? He couldn’t believe he was actually blushing. Could things get any worse?

  “Wait a minute,” Sandra said, sounding skeptical. “You were really stuck?”

  Things were starting to get worse.

  Her mouth dropped open and she began to laugh—the kind of laugh that would have been music to his ears if she were laughing with him and not at him.

  Things were definitely worse.

  “It could have happened to anyone,” he growled. Yeah, right. It could have happened to any idiot. “That tube looked a lot bigger than it really was.”

  Missy’s face contorted and she made the time-out sign. “Wait. Why were you stuck in a slide again?”

  “Can we just drop the stupid slide thing?” he asked between his teeth. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a huge rush of air. “Let’s just get back to why I’m here.”

  Sandra wiped the laughter tears from her eyes and tried for a more composed face. She failed three seconds into it. “Okay. But I’m not sure what a Hollywood-type like you is doing here, exactly. I mean, besides working on your Houdini tricks,” she said with a chuckle.

  Missy clasped her hands together. “Sandra, brace yourself. Ben Capshaw wants to use our little preschool for research for a movie role. Isn’t that so cool?” she said, beaming.

  Sandra immediately sobered. “Research? In this small town? And why would Ben Capshaw want to use our facility? There are plenty of other ones with a much higher enrollment.”

  “Well, that’s just it,” he explained. “My agent set this up because one, I don’t have a lot of time to waste, and two, with just three of you here, it’s going to be a lot easier to keep my anonymity.”

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t help you,” she told him, dismissing him like an unwelcome solicitor. “Thanks for the laugh, though.”

  He shot out his arm and blocked her from entering her office. He was close enough now to catch a subtle scent—he wasn’t sure what. Maybe some kind of fruit. Whatever it was, it was way too sweet for a woman this sour. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? You and your sister already signed the agreement.”

  Her eyes darted to her sister. “I signed an agreement?”

  Missy smiled guiltily. “Oh yeah, that. I might have…uh…kind of…uh…signed for you.”

  “What?”

  Ben stuck his fingers in his ears. “I’m not hearing this.”

  “I only forged your signature because it was great opportunity to get some free publicity,” Missy rushed to explain. “I thought you’d agree—once you allowed it to soak in a while.”

  “What free publicity?” Sandra cried. “Mr. Movie Star—” she jerked her thumb at him, “—doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here!”

  Ben cleared his throat. “Ah, but once I’m gone, you’re free to use my name. You know, Ben Capshaw was here, would send his own kid here if he had one, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “Yeah,” Missy chimed in. “Just think what it’ll do for next year’s enrollment.”

  “What exactly makes you think people are going to want to send their child to a preschool just because Ben Capshaw graced it with his presence?”

  Her sister frowned in thought. “Wouldn’t they?”

  “No. I know I wouldn’t. Besides, it totally undermines the quality of our school.”

  He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Hey, now wait just another damn minute. I don’t think me being here is going to undermine anything. I’m a professional.”

  “You’re an actor,” she said flatly.

  Okay, it occurred to Ben that Miss Sandra had many, many problems with him—starting with his appearance, all the way down to his profession. This was interesting in itself, because most women fell over their toes when a celebrity was in front of them. Especially if they paid even the slightest bit of attention to them such as he was doing. Case in point was her star-struck sister, Missy. So his first instinct had been right. Sandra was different from all the rest. She wasn’t impressed with his actor status at all.

  So what was wrong with her?

  What was she, un-American? How could she not be impressed? He’d worked with Steven Spielberg! But no, this woman couldn’t care less. He had a sneaky suspicion she treated the garbage collector with more respect.

  The way she stood there like some snooty, anti-celebrity goddess, combined with his damaged ego, pushed him over the brink of reason. Did it really matter if he was able to do this research at her preschool? He had more than enough confidence in his own acting ability to give a good performance. But at this point he wasn’t about to let her stand in his way of perfecting his craft and was equally determined to make it as difficult as possible for her to get her own way.

  “Okay,” he said with forced agreeability. “I guess my lawyer will just talk to your lawyer, and we’ll all get it settled sooner or later.” He shrugged and turned to leave.

  Sandra placed a firm hand on his arm. “Wait. Did you say lawyers? Why do there have to be lawyers involved?”

  There was a tremendous satisfaction he felt at knocking the ice princess off her frosty high horse, but he kept his expression blank. “Well, you know,” he said, waving his wrist back and forth. “Our lawyers are going to have to settle the whole contract agreement you signed. You see, I had plans to be here with you. This is costing me a lot of time. Time I could have been using to work on other projects.” Actually, he had no other projects at the moment, and he also had no idea whether he would even have a legitimate lawsuit, but the way the women paled, they had no idea either.

  Damn, he was a good actor.

  The sisters exchanged looks, then Missy spoke first. “Since we—I mean I—already signed the agreement and all, couldn’t we just let him hang around for a few days? What’s the harm? We could probably use an extra hand with the children anyway.”

  Sandra let a few moments pass, apprehension crossing every millimeter of her beautiful face. Then she looked at Missy’s hopeful face and sighed. “Okay
. Only for a few days,” she added over Missy’s excitement. “I assume there was a criminal background check done.”

  “Thanks,” Ben told them. “That’s great.” All he needed was a few days to get into character anyway. Then Hello, Oscar.

  “You can observe my class,” Missy offered cheerfully. “This is going to be so much fun.”

  Fun? He tried not to make a face. In this particular place, he wasn’t so sure fun was possible. But he nodded anyway and stole a glance at Sandra. She looked unconvinced too. No big surprise there.

  “You’re going to have to clean yourself up, Mr. Capshaw, before the children see you,” she told him matter-of-factly.

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I understand. I’ll shave and come back tomorrow then. No problem.” And just to prove he was a nice guy and there were no hard feelings, he tried giving her one of his patented dazzler smiles—the one the camera just loved.

  It didn’t work on her.

  He didn’t know why he expected it would. That woman didn’t know the first thing about fun.

  Chapter Two

  Sandra closed the door and leaned both hands on her desk—just in case her legs gave way.

  Ben Capshaw. Ben Capshaw was going to be working at her little preschool. She took several deep breaths to steady her nerves. No such luck.

  This was going to be a disaster. She felt it all the way down to her toes. There were already lawsuits being mentioned! What if some of the parents found out he was here before he went back to Hollywood? Would he sue their school because of the agreement they signed? She didn’t even know what was in that stupid agreement!

  She and Missy had so much invested in their business, they couldn’t afford for this attempt at shameless promotion to be a mistake. She could only pray everything would go smoothly, and that Missy was right about the publicity. Maybe, if they were lucky, it would turn out to be a good thing. Yeah. That’s what she needed, positive thinking.

  She knew she was being a stick in the mud, but she just couldn’t share her sister’s excitement about the prospects of having a movie star around. She didn’t trust him. Why should she? One thing her ex-husband had taught her was that people in show business had an altered sense of reality—everything revolved around them. Well, she wasn’t about to allow Ben Capshaw to lose sight of the fact that her business, the children she was responsible for—her child especially—were not to be toyed with.