‘You’re wrong, Claire. It’s not a love scene, it’s a bedroom scene. That’s all they ever were. I made the mistake of thinking they were something else.’ Shannon got to her feet. ‘Anyway, that’s next week. I’ll be fine by then.’
‘Look, I’m not trying to pressure you, but that’s only a couple of days from now. You make it sound as if you’ve got forever to work this out.’
‘There’s nothing to work out,’ Shannon answered, coming back into the alcove with her handbag. ‘I’m an actress with a commitment to Tomorrows. That’s all there is to it. Besides, didn’t you just say Jerry was pleased with my work?’
‘Yeah, but, well, when Morgan shows up... All I’m saying is it might be a good idea if you’d call him at the number he left with my secretary.’
‘I have nothing to say to the man. I thought you understood that.’
‘I do, and I agree with you, Shannon. He’s a bastard. But...’
‘I just wish I’d trusted my own instincts. The SOB used me! I don’t know which I was, an audition for the soap or for the movie role or—or just a diversion’ Her voice trembled and she hated herself for it. ‘Not that it matters.’
‘Sweetie, don’t go over all this again.’
‘He knew all along that he was going to--tot walk away from me if he got the chance...’ Her eyes met Claire’s and she took a deep breath. ‘Everything between us was a lie,’ she said softly. ‘Right till the end, when he handed me that story about a last-minute meeting on the Coast. No wonder he gave me that speech about the show and how it had been there before him and would go on after him.’ Shannon stalked across the room and snatched her coat from the closet. ‘That was the closest he got to the truth, but then, what if his little deal had fallen through? Suppose Scorpio had said sent him back to New York with his tail between his legs? Why give up a sure thing in New York until you’ve cemented what you’ve got in Hollywood, right? Why not hang on to a part and a woman and—and—‘
Tears burned her eyes. Stop that, she told herself. She was not going to cry. She hated Morgan. Despised him. Why waste tears on such a despicable human being?
‘Shannon,’ her agent said gently, ‘you have to get over him.’
‘I am over him. I am absolutely over him. I just—I just get angry and—and—‘ Shannon stopped the rush of words. ‘Okay,’ she said briskly, forcing a smile, ‘what time is that audition for the Neil Simon revival?’
‘Three o’clock. It’s a good part, sweetie.’
‘Yes, but you know I’ve never done comedy.’
‘Look, they want an actress, not a comic.’
‘We hope.’ Shannon glanced at her wristwatch and made a face. ‘Oh, wow! If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late. And we can’t have that happen, can we? After all, I’m not a big star like Mr. Morgan or Rima the Prima. I have to play by the rules.’
‘You would, anyway,’ Claire said softly. ‘That’s one of the nicest things about you.’
Shannon looked at the other woman. Then she went back to the table and gave her a quick hug. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For everything. The roof over my head and all your encouragement.’
***
An hour later, Jerry Crawford draped his arm around Shannon’s shoulder.
‘OK,’ he said, ‘we’re going to tape your final confrontation with Rima. Remember, you expect trouble when she calls and asks you to meet her. You don’t know she’s going to tell you Johnny’s only been after your money, but you sense something’s up. You don't like her and you don’t trust her. I want you to make the audience feel your animosity. Can you do that?’
Shannon glanced past the director to where Rima the Prima stood. ‘Oh, I can do that,’ she said softly. ‘No problem.’
‘And then we’ll talk about your scenes with Cade next week, okay?'
‘Jerry, believe me, I don’t need a pep talk. I know you’re worried about the bedroom scene, but there won’t be a problem. In fact, I’ve already memorized my lines.’
‘Good girl;’ the director said, patting her on the back. ‘I knew you’d come through. Right, places, everybody. Rima, are you ready?’
Shannon took a couple of steadying breaths. She had sounded really convincing that time—almost good enough to believe herself. Well, by Monday it would be true. When she came on the set next week, she’d be ready for Cade Morgan and that damned bed. More than ready.
That bed was where everything had begun and it was where everything would end. It was time to separate reality from fantasy.
‘Shannon, are you ready?’
She nodded. ‘Ready.’
‘OK, roll tape.’
Her face assumed its Alana Dunbar look as Rima began her lines in that awful voice of hers. She was as bad as ever, but that didn’t matter. She was a star, just as Cade had been.
Shannon picked up her cue and fed Rima the next line. How could she had been so stupid? Falling for somebody like Cade—he hadn’t even been subtle. He’d marched on to the set and into her life, taking what he wanted...
‘...you won’t see a penny of your inheritance, Alana,’ Rima wheezed. ‘My lawyers will see to it. How do you think your dear father would have felt about this disgusting relationship between you and Johnny Wolff?’
Disgusting is the right word for it, Shannon thought, moving aside so the camera could zoom in on Rima.
‘He didn’t want you, Alana. He was only interested in what he could get from you,’ Rima purred. ‘How could you have fallen for someone like him?’
‘Johnny loves me,’ Shannon said, feeling a kinship for Alana Dunbar that she’d never felt before. ‘He said he did.’
Their lines droned on, the words and gestures almost automatic. What time was the Simon audition? Not that she had a chance in a million at the part. The closest she’d come to comedy was Twelfth Night, which was hardly the same thing. But there were no love scenes in the Simon play, none for the role she was trying for, anyway, and that was a blessing.
How was she going to get through that love scene with Cade next week? Telling everybody, even herself, she’d be able to do it was one thing but actually doing it …
At least, she didn’t have to play it in that awful bodysuit. The script called for Cade to open her blouse and strip it from her.
No, that was wrong. Johnny would open Alana’s blouse, and Johnny would...
Her mind tuned into the cue Rima threw her and she crossed the set, turning to the camera for her one close-up.
She was going to need more than laundry lists to get her through that bedroom scene, but not because she was worried about how she’d react sexually to Cade’s touch.
What she feared was that her hate would make her flinch from his caresses.
That was all there was to worry about. Wasn’t it? It had to be. There couldn’t be any other reason…
Damn. Was Rima going to blow her lines again? Not now, Shannon prayed, please, please, we’re almost done.
But Rima had a strange look on her face. There was a question forming in her emerald eyes as she stared beyond Shannon, no doubt looking for the cue card.
Dummy, Shannon thought, it’s in the other direction...
What was happening? There was a murmur off-set, coming from behind her and now there were whispers, too. The camera was moving in for a final one-shot of Rima, but Rima was paying no attention. Hang on, Rima, Shannon urged silently, hang on. It’s almost over. Just my line and then yours...
'I’ll get even with you for this,’ Shannon said. It was her last line and Rima was supposed to come in on it quickly, but she was silent, standing there with her mouth agape. ‘Did you hear me?’ Shannon improvised. ‘I’ll get even.’
Rima’s glance returned to her. ‘ You’re no good, Alana,’ she said in a strange voice ‘Neither one of you, you or that rotten Joh.. .that John—that John—‘The emerald eyes widened until they were glowing like twin green suns. ‘... that Johnny Wolff,’ she finally stam
mered, and Jerry’s voice boomed from the control booth.
‘Rima, damn it, what the hell’s your problem? And the rest of you… Doesn’t anybody know what “quiet” means?’
‘I’m sorry, Jerry. It’s my fault.’
The breath caught in Shannon’s throat. No, please, she thought, but even before she turned around, she knew.
Cade was here..
He stood, hands planted on his hips, staring at her, his indigo eyes fathomless, his lips set in a hard line.
Shannon felt as if she were replaying a scene from the past. Everything was as it had been that first day. He was dressed in leather and denim; his motorcycle boots were coated with a film of dust and for a crazy second she found herself wondering if he’d ridden his Harley here from California.
There was a knot of people clustered behind him, their eyes shiny with excitement, but it wasn’t Cade they were watching this time. They were watching her, trying to decide if she were to be the snake or the mongoose in what promised to be a far more interesting scene than any the writers had ever created.
Say something, she told herself, say something nasty or say something clever, but say something.
Her throat worked, but nothing happened. Her mouth was dry, her brain numb. Even her feet felt rooted to the floor.
‘Hello, Shannon,’ Cade said, and the sound of that familiar voice seemed to set her free.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Working,’ he said. ‘That is, if you can use me today, Jerry.’
The question was directed to the control booth, but Cade’s eyes never left hers.
‘I—I don’t know, Cade. I didn’t expect... Just let me get out there.’ The door swung open and Crawford pushed his way through the cluster of onlookers. ‘I hadn’t planned on shooting you two until next week,’ he said, looking from Cade to Shannon. ‘But we could do a rehearsal today.’ His glance went from one of them to the other again, and the faintest of smiles flitted across his face. ‘Why not? Have you got the script I sent you, Cade?’
‘The love scene? Yeah, I’ve got it. It’s all I thought about on the plane from L.A.’
There was a titter from the crowd. Crawford glared angrily and the noise subsided as quickly as it had begun.
‘Shannon? You said you’d memorized your lines, right?’
‘Well, yes, but I didn’t think... ’ Panic welled up like water from a spring. ‘Jerry, you said Monday.’
‘Monday, Friday, what’s the difference?’ Crawford said pleasantly. He draped his arm around her and smiled brightly. ‘No problem, right?’
She nodded woodenly. ‘No problem, Jerry.’
‘Good. And you, Cade? Any questions about the love scene?’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Cade said softly, his eyes still on Shannon. ‘I know every move I’m going to make.’
Someone giggled again and Cade’s head sprang up.
‘I want the set cleared,’ he said.
‘Well, I don’t know... ’
‘Clear it,’ Cade said, his voice cutting through the studio like a whip.
Crawford waved his hand and people scuttled from the sound stage. ‘OK,’ he said, turning to the technicians, ‘I want lights and sound on the bedroom set. Make-up, just dust some powder on their noses. Shannon, dear, what have you got on under that dress?’
Shannon glanced down at her costume. ‘I... this is a whole Alana Dunbar outfit from Wardrobe. A lace camisole and...’
‘Fine, fine. Rima, you can take the afternoon off.’
‘Certainly,’ Rima said in a simpering whisper, but she only minced across the set and settled against a camera dolly.
Shannon felt the color rise to her cheeks. Rima wasn’t going to pass up a chance like this.
‘Jerry?’ Was that tiny voice hers, Shannon wondered. She ran her tongue across her lips and tried again. ‘Couldn’t we just do a reading?’
‘No readings,’ Cade said, rocking back on his heels. ‘Let’s get to it.’
He was right, Shannon told herself. Once they got past this, life could go back to normal. She could start looking for her next job and he could go back to Hollywood or Hell, whichever came first.
Head high, she walked across the narrow space separating one set from the other.
There was the bed, looming ahead of her, that horrible bed, that bed the size of a football field...
One and one are two. Two and two are four. You can do this, she thought. Of course she could. Four and four are eight. Four is the square root of sixteen and there are four sets of sheets in the linen closet, and why in God’s name hadn’t she listened that time Eli had suggested that transcendental meditation was the best relaxation?
‘Padgett? Are you ready?’
One last deep breath, and then she nodded and she was Alana Dunbar, walking into her gaudy bedroom, ignoring the bed which had certainly grown to a hundred miles wide and a hundred miles long.
She knew what Alana would do and she did it, going to the make-believe window, gazing out at the make-believe night, telling herself it was not Cade bursting through the door, it was Johnny Wolff, just as it was Johnny’s hand on her shoulder, Johnny’s fingers cutting into her flesh.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he growled. ‘I’ve been trying to find you for days.’
She turned to face him. Smile, she told herself, smile as Alana would. The Dunbar heiress was a bitch, but she was a woman, and in this scene her pride was on the line.
‘I don’t know why,’ she said clearly, looking at Cade. ‘We have nothing more to say to each other.’
‘Haven’t we?’ he asked huskily, his gaze drifting over her. Not indigo eyes today, she thought suddenly, more like polished ebony...
‘I know all about you, Johnny,’ she said. ‘I know everything. You were just using me.’
The words were like sand in her mouth. They were just lines, she told herself, that’s all they were. They had nothing to do with her or Cade—they were Alana’s words and Johnny’s.
‘Somebody lied to you,’ Cade said, his fingers tightening on her, biting into her skin through the thin silk dress. ‘I’ve never used you.’
Her mouth was dry, so dry...
She forced herself to swallow and then she ran her tongue across her lips.
‘Don’t lie to me,’ she whispered. ‘My stepmother told me all about you.’
Cade’s hand closed around the nape of her neck.
‘I don’t know anybody told you,’ he said softly, ‘but it’s all lies. I love you.’
Shannon’s throat constricted. His touch was so gentle So wonderful…
The script, she thought, remember the script.
‘Johnny, don’t,’ she said, trying to say it as Alana would, trying to remember that Alana didn’t really want her lover to let her go.
Alana still wanted Johnny.
But she didn’t want Cade…
‘I love you,’ he repeated gruffly. ‘You know that’s the truth. Look at me, dammit! Look into my eyes.’
Slowly, her eyes met his. Was Johnny supposed to tell her to look into his eyes? She couldn’t remember that in the script, but then, she was having trouble remembering lots of things. What was her next camera angle? And her next line?
‘You used me,’ she said again as the line tripped into her head. ‘Why don’t you admit it? It doesn’t matter anymore—it’s all over. You wanted something from me and you got it.’
‘Maybe that was part of it, at the beginning. You had something I needed. But that changed. You know it did.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t love you, Johnny.’
‘You’re a liar,’ Cade whispered. ‘A beautiful liar.’
Shannon shook her head. ‘I don’t love you,’ she repeated as Cade drew her towards him, but the line hadn’t come out right.
Where was Alana’s proud determination?
Where was hers?
‘I’m half-tempted to believe you,’ Cade said, running his t
humb along her cheek. ‘If you loved me, you wouldn’t have believed what you heard without talking to me first.’
‘Nothing you can say will change anything.’
‘You don’t believe that,’ he said softly.
His eyes were so deep. So dark. She wanted to fall into them…
‘Don’t,’ she whispered.
Her heart was hammering in her ears, her blood was pounding thickly in her veins. I am Alana Dunbar, she told herself, fighting against a rising panic. I am Alana Dunbar and he is Johnny Wolff, and this is just a scene from a soap opera, that’s all. It isn’t anything more than that...
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he whispered. ‘You know it feels right, love.’
Something skittered wildly deep inside her. He was pulling her towards him, his arms like steel bands, and she was drowning, drowning in his eyes.
‘Don’t,’ she said, trying to twist her face away from his, 'please...’
‘I love you,’ he said. ‘You know I love you.’
‘You don’t. It was all a lie.’
He was bending towards her—the script called for him to kiss her now, a long, lingering kiss, and then he was supposed to fumble at the buttons of her blouse and slowly, slowly, ease it from her shoulders, his lips at the hollow of her throat.
And she would be lost.
Damn him! Damn Cade, damn Jerry for making her do this. Was she supposed to make a fool of herself again? She wouldn’t do it, she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t...
The crack of her hand against Cade’s cheek echoed through the silent studio like a gunshot.
His head sprang back; his fingers went to his face, moving lightly over the skin that already wore the red imprint of her hand.
‘Stop it,’ she said brokenly. ‘Just stop it! You don’t know anything about love. And you never will.’
‘Shannon?’ Jerry’s voice crackled over the microphone. ‘Shannon, I don’t see any of that in my copy of the script.’
There was a cackle of nervous laughter that disappeared into the ominous silence of the studio.
‘That’s it,’ Cade growled. She flinched as he reached for her, and then he was lifting her into his arms. ‘Dammit, that’s the final straw.’
Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set Page 78