Chapter Three
Ben sat, observing the class from the back of the room where he thought he’d set himself up nicely—away from any actual contact with the kids. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work, he just needed to ease into the whole child-nurturing thing. A concept that still made him queasy.
“Class, this is…” Missy’s brows pulled together. When no other words followed, she sent him a helpless look.
He rolled his eyes inwardly at her obvious attempt to keep his name anonymous from a bunch of four-year-olds. “You guys can call me Big Bens. Because of my big feet,” he added with a goofy grin.
The children laughed and Missy seemed to love the idea. “That’s so cute,” she gushed. “Okay, class, Big Bens here is going to be with us for a few days, so just treat him like you treat me, Miss Carol, and Miss Sandra. Okay?”
Ben leaned back as he watched tiny heads bob up and down. The whole scene was surreal, sitting in preschool like this. It was probably the first time in his whole life he’d even attended one. He was going to murder his agent if this turned out to be a waste of time. So far, it seemed easy, since the kids and Missy were eating out of his hands.
Take that, Miss Sandra!
Ben shifted on the miniature chair and tried to get more comfortable. He was surprised the tiny chair even held him, but then decided to stand so he wouldn’t sprain his buttocks—something he wouldn’t be surprised to hear Miss Sandra was hoping would happen. Sheesh. Talk about your heartless woman. He’d love to know what crawled up that beautiful backside and died.
Missy wrinkled her nose and smiled at one of the students. She was so perky and sweet she reminded him of Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz. Sandra certainly wasn’t like her. He even doubted Sandra and Missy were related, except for the fact they were both very attractive blondes. Narrowing his eyes, he studied Missy’s face again, looking for the resemblance—the small, slightly turned-up nose, the perfect cheekbones, the cerulean blue eyes. Oh yeah, he thought. They were related. That gene pool was watertight—if you didn’t count the personality part. So why couldn’t Sandra be as warm and personable as her sister?
Why did he even care?
Okay. Ben hated to admit it, but Sandra-don’t-call-me-Sandy was becoming a bit of a challenge. Since he’d become famous, he’d never come across a woman with the kind of Wonder Woman ability to resist him as she obviously possessed. It wasn’t like she was married or anything—not that that had stopped other women in the past—but it certainly wasn’t a factor in her case. Her actions went beyond annoying. He wasn’t used to a woman treating him so…normal.
How could she not even comment on how he looked today? She had to have realized that he couldn’t have just walked into an average barbershop and asked for The Works. He had to do it all himself, which was no easy feat. Except he hadn’t cut his hair. He figured he’d leave that to his stylist in California. In the meantime, he’d just pulled it back for Miss Sandra’s sake. Not that that cold-blooded and apparently blind woman had noticed.
“Big Bens, why don’t you lead us in circle time?” Missy asked.
Her words jolted him back to the present, and he squinted as if that would improve his hearing. “Uh…circle what?”
“Circle time.” She giggled. “It’s great fun. We all sit in a circle and sing songs.”
Oh, yes. That sounds like great fun. A real hoot. Thanks so much for including me. Who did she think he was, Mr. Rogers? “Uh…maybe I should just continue to observe today.”
Missy’s mouth formed a little bow. “Oh. Well, okay. Maybe tomorrow?”
No freakin’ way, sister. “Sure,” he said pleasantly.
He was calling his agent as soon as he got back to his apartment. Denise hadn’t mentioned anything about belting out “Old MacDonald” for this gig.
Missy looked appeased and resumed looking through her collection of songs. He sat back down, casting a glance at Sandra’s little girl, Hannah, who had turned around at Missy’s question.
Talk about an adorable kid, he thought. Again her gene pool working that one-of-a-kind magic. The kid was already a real heartbreaker. In fact, if Sandra wanted to—which he highly doubted since it would be his idea—he bet he could get her daughter some small acting parts. They’d probably make some decent money too. What person with a heart would be able to resist an angel face like hers?
Ben could still feel the child’s gaze on him, so he looked at her and smiled. She didn’t smile back. Hannah just continued to stare at him with a marked disappointment in those big four-year-old eyes. Oh, man. She looked as though she was silently reprimanding him for not doing circle time.
He huffed out a breath. Sandra was doing one major job on that kid. And it seemed as if Hannah was picking things up rather fast, since she had the judgmental attitude of her mother down pat. Okay, kid. You win. I promise I’ll sing my little heart out tomorrow.
The girl blinked and still met him with a disapproving stare. She evidently didn’t understand the gigantic mental victory she had just won over him.
“Um, excuse me. I have something to tell you,” she said.
Ben sighed. “Oh yeah, what?”
“Bug.”
“Bug?” He almost laughed. “Where’s a bug?”
She smiled and pointed. “Over there.”
Ben stood up and walked over to the windows, grabbing the attention of Missy and the rest of the class. His eyes swept around the floor a few seconds, and then he finally saw it. Damn, how could he not? The bug was huge.
“What’s the matter, Big Bens?” he heard Missy ask.
“Uh, nothing.” Gargantuan spider, actually. But he didn’t want to announce that in case there were any squeamish girls in the room.
It was one mother of an ugly insect and—now that it began to move—remarkably fast for possessing those thick little legs. Being the he-man he was, he wasn’t about to let it get away so it could boast to all its hairy little friends. So, he grabbed a heavy dictionary off the shelf, quickly aimed and then let the book drop. “Got it!” he called out.
The children shrieked. His head whipped up and around, trying to sort through the mayhem. He had absolutely no idea ten little preschoolers had the ability to create enough noise to blow out an eardrum, but at that precise moment there was enough noise to fill a stadium. But even among the loud chatter, he heard some of the kids cry out, “Herbie!”
Herbie?
That thing had a name?
Ben’s eyes shot to Missy for an explanation, but she just stood there like a corpse with wide eyes bulging out and a hand raised to her mouth. Okay. He obviously wasn’t going to get any support in that corner. He was officially on his own.
Great. Now what? He was going to make things much worse he if picked up the book and allowed the class to see the smeared-up guts of Herbie, so he simply froze, wishing for some big hook to come and yank him away.
Wish granted.
Sandra, A.K.A. big hook, appeared at the door of the classroom with her no-nonsense line of attack that stomped out all the commotion around them. Oh man. She was not looking happy with him either—not that he’d seen her any other way. More bad timing on his part. She had a way of popping in on him when he wasn’t exactly his best. Too bad he couldn’t have screenwriters helping him out with choice lines in real life, because he could sure use a witty one now. Coming up with nothing on his own, he shrugged feebly at her, hoping she’d take it as a white flag being waved. Sandra didn’t seem ready to declare peace.
“Ah, Mr. Ben, a word please?”
Uh-oh. This was bad. She was giving him an even more snotty tone than she had first used on him. He had to be more careful with what he wished for in the future. No more big hooks. Next time, he’d be much more specific and wish for a scantily clad woman with more than a significant amount of appreciation for celebrities.
But one who still looked exactly like Sandra.
Where had that thought come from?
Sandra
turned and disappeared, not waiting for his response. He supposed she thought it was an automatic given that he’d ask how high when she said jump. But he meekly followed her out anyway.
Even the wrath of Miss Sandra was better than staring into the shocked little faces of those poor kids. He obviously needed more child training than he thought.
Once they were out in the hallway, he quickly tried to make amends. “Okay, maybe I didn’t use good judgment in that particular circumstance.”
“Our theme this month is bugs,” Sandra informed him, pointing to the countless decorations of various bugs throughout the hall. “Are you blind?”
Ben took in his surroundings and blinked, strangely noticing them for the first time. Hmm. Well, what do you know about that? “Uh…no, I saw your little bug things hanging around.”
She shot him a withering glare before entering her office.
He followed her in and sighed. “Okay, I didn’t know. But I didn’t commit a felony either. Like you never killed a bug before.”
“Never in front of the children.”
“What are you, some kind of tree-hugger? Did you see that thing? It was a gross-looking spider.”
She whirled around to face him. “Yes, I know! Herbie the spider is dead thanks to you.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know you had some kind of freaky school mascot?” he shot back. “What kind of place are you running here anyway? Your daughter told me there was a bug. As an actor, I’m used to going with my emotions. I saw it, the thing was scary and hairy, and I reacted.”
Her arms folded tighter than a bed waiting for basic-training inspection. Her sleeveless cream-colored turtleneck accentuated her tanned, beautifully sculpted arms and, as she cocked her head, studying—no, judging—with eyes aimed at him like two blue-deadly arrows, he’d never seen anyone look as captivating or as alluring in his life. And as a man—not an actor—he wanted to react to that as well. But he held himself in check this time, knowing that would get him into even more hot water.
“You know, you’re absolutely right,” she said after a minute. “We should be able to squash all things that we come across in life as hairy and scary.”
She turned toward her desk, but he grabbed hold of her arm and swung her back around so they were practically nose-to-nose.
“Do you mean me? That better not be referring to me and how I looked the other day with my beard and mustache.” Oh, man. She smelled like heaven. That scent was definitely fruit—peaches to be exact, which happened to be his favorite. From this day forward.
“If the shoe fits…” She shrugged an elegant shoulder, apparently not as affected as he was by being so close.
He released her and stepped back so he could clear his head of fruit and resist the urge to shake her senseless—or worse yet, kiss her senseless. What was it about her? He’d been around tons of beautiful women in his life—some even more beautiful than her—yet he’d never been this close to losing control.
“Look, we tried.” Her tone softened. “I think this proves you shouldn’t be here. Why don’t you just read for research instead?”
His eyes narrowed. “I see what’s going on here. This has nothing to do with Herbie, does it? I think you’re still mad at yourself for judging me based on my initial appearance, and you can’t handle that fact.”
She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Prove it.”
“And how would you like me to do that?”
“By giving me another chance.”
She shook her head.
“Afraid?”
“Of you? Hardly.”
He finally smiled. “Ah, that’s not what you said yesterday. You said I scared you to death.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Stop twisting my words. Look, I don’t want you here anymore. You’re a disruption to my school.”
He took a step closer and gave in to his desire to touch her by running a finger down her smooth, bare arm. “Maybe I’m a disruption to you.”
She jerked away, but he noticed a slight flush on her cheeks. Not quite the reaction he expected. He expected her to laugh right in his face—loudly and mockingly. Maybe even take another shot about how large his ego must be. Instead, she remained silent.
Dumbfounded, he dropped his arm. So, he was a disruption to her. He was going to have to consider that. Apparently, she was a real woman underneath all that ice exterior and not immune to him as he once thought. He’d also have to consider what exactly he wanted to do with that information. Tucking it away in his mind, he licked his lips. “Look, Sandra, let me go back in there. You’ll see. I can make it right.” Somehow.
She gazed at him, her eyes wanting to trust him. “I don’t know.”
“Those kids like their Big Bens—or at least they did until I sent Herbie to spider heaven. Honest, I think I have a knack with them.”
“A knack, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “Just because you told them to call you Big Bens?”
“Right, on account of my big feet.” He grinned. “You know what they say about men with big feet, don’t you?”
Her eyes widened. “Mr. Capshaw—”
“Small gloves,” he quickly finished, wiggling his fingers.
Her mouth shut at his poor attempt at a joke. But then he watched a slow smile escape.
Yes! He did it. The ice princess smiled.
A small smile, but still by every definition a smile. It was the first time he’d seen her do anything like that since they’d met, and it blew his mind. He didn’t think such a simple, everyday occurrence like that would have such a heart-fibrillating effect on him—but it did. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“Now that I’ve squashed your spider and all, maybe you could call me Ben instead of that Mr. Capshaw thing.”
She seemed to think it over. “Okay, Ben. One more chance. But if you screw up again, that’s it. And I don’t think you’d better count on that movie role, because from what I’ve seen of your way with children, I doubt you’ll get it.”
“Don’t you worry, I’ll get it.”
One of her immaculate eyebrows arched up. “Who else is up for the part?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and by habit went to stroke his beard, but came up stroking bare skin. “I think Bruce Willis and maybe a couple of other actors.”
“Bruce Willis?” Her voice escalated wildly.
He frowned and folded his arms, all the while fantasizing about suddenly going back to Hollywood and punching the lights out of one Bruce Willis. She liked Bruce Willis—a bald man. Go figure. No wonder she made such a fuss about his long hair and beard. So sorry to disappoint you, honey.
She turned her attention to the picture of a cartoon dog hanging on the wall and looked as though she was studying it. “Hmmm,” she murmured, tapping a pink fingernail against her unpainted lips.
“What, hmmm?”
Her gaze fell back on him, and she blinked as though she forgot he was still standing there. Another fatal chop to his ego. This woman could give Paul Bunyon a run for his money. “Oh, nothing,” she said. “It’s just that…well, Bruce Willis is older and has three children of his own.”
“What’s your point?” he growled.
She bit her lip, failing to hide a smile. “Doesn’t that mean he has more experience? And doesn’t more experience mean he’s more qualified for the job?”
“Not in Hollywood, honey. I’ll get the part.”
She looked surprised. “I don’t understand. Then why all the research?”
He hesitated, and almost gave her a different answer than the one he was about to give. He wanted to give her the standard answer of just normal character preparation—one that most actors used. But when he saw the unusual openness in her eyes, the truth flew out his mouth before he could stop it.
“It was my agent’s idea, actually,” he told her. “I’ve been getting offered these roles I can practically do in a coma. I’m bored with it all. There has to be more to what I’m doing
with my career. I’m not sure what—not more money—but maybe…respect…or a challenge. I figure if I get this movie and ace the part, it could really shake things up for me. You know, maybe even get some recognition from my peers.”
“You mean like an Oscar?”
“Exactly. Believe me, nothing says take me serious like an Academy Award nod.”
“But you’re already successful.” She shook her head, still looking puzzled. “You’re worried about being taken seriously? Boy,” she said with a half-laugh. “I thought I was the only person who obsessed over things like that.”
“Great minds must think alike,” he said with a grin. “But I don’t understand what you’re so worried about. I’ve only known you a few days, and I take you extremely seriously.”
She let out another laugh, and he found it encouraging that she could be provoked to do it so easily.
“Thanks so much,” she said wryly, collapsing at her desk. “So far, I’ve only managed to convince you and Missy. My ex-husband still thinks this school is a dumb idea.”
“Dumb?” Ben already hated the ex-husband. He could imagine many people thinking what he did for a living was dumb, but never something as goodhearted as teaching small children. “Your ex thinks what you want to do in life is dumb? He sounds like a real piece of work.”
She picked up a pencil and began doodling. “Yeah, well, he has his moments. He might have a small point, though. I just want this to work out so much…”
Her voice sounded far away even though he was mere inches from her. He nonchalantly glanced down at what she was drawing—just a bunch of triangles and squares. Besides being as fascinated as he was, Ben wondered what Dr. Freud would have thought about her behavior. Miss Sandra was proving to be more and more of an enigma.
After several seconds, she set down her pencil and looked up. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. Come with me and we’ll explain everything to the children.”
His brows shot up. “You mean it? I’m actually forgiven?”
“Yes,” she said, standing, her lips twitching. “But you’re going to have to figure out how to honor the deceased on your own.”
“The deceased?” Then it dawned on him. “You mean I have to memorialize a spider?”
The Role of a Lifetime Page 4