“So where have you and the country star been holing out?” Lila’s voice held more than a hint of mockery.
Or was it jealousy? Lila always needed to be number one: in the limelight onstage and off. “We weren’t holing out. I told you that. We spent the night in a cold wet barn surrounded by a troop of boy scouts and an army of spiders.”
Lila’s tinkle of laughter contained no humor. “And when will your new play be ready?”
“What new play would that be?” He was getting tired of the insinuations. He and Sherry had shared twenty-four hours of light-hearted fun. Just that and nothing more. Why did Lila want to ruin something so innocent?
“The play starring the country music singer. Or is this still under wraps?”
“Is what under wraps? Why the hell would I put Sherry Valentine into one of my plays? She’s a singer. As far as I know, I don’t write musicals.”
Why was it suddenly so important for everyone to know what he did—and with whom—in his free time? Of course, Sherry had warned him about this very thing; she’d also told him how damaging publicity and gossip were. So he’d keep a cool head, not let things go too far.
“Okay.” Lila shrugged her lovely shoulders. “Play innocent if you want. I just thought I’d let you know what people are saying.”
“You haven’t let me know anything so far,” Carston said more heatedly than he’d intended. “You’re just hinting, as far as I can tell.”
“Okay. You want facts? Here’s one.” Lila’s violet eyes met his squarely. “Sherry Valentine’s agent or manager—whatever you call him—has just spent almost the whole day with Ned Lantini. Well, almost the whole day.” Lila smirked. “Minus the times Lantini tried to get me alone so he could rub up against me.”
“Lantini? The producer of science fiction trash?”
Lila nodded. “The same.”
Carston rolled his eyes. “Martian invaders who kidnap women and exploit them in porno flicks.”
Lila nodded smugly. “Or carnivorous mushrooms that raise humans for meat.”
“Okay, fine.” He still didn’t see where the conversation was going. “We’ve got the guy pegged. What does this have to do with Sherry? Aside from the fact that Charlie Bacon and Ned Lantini apparently have a lot to say to each other.”
Lila leaned forward, her eyes glowing with unfeigned satisfaction. “Word is, they were conducting business. Word is, Sherry Valentine’s aiming for an acting career. Has been for quite some time now. Apparently she’s tired of being just a singer. And Lantini just might put Sherry Valentine in one of his films.”
Carston stared at her wordlessly for a minute, not certain he’d heard correctly. “In one of Lantini’s pieces of junk?” No, this was one rumor he couldn’t believe. Would Sherry agree to something so ridiculous? Maybe...How well did he know her after all? Not well at all.
Then the full implication of what Lila had said hit him. Sherry wanted to be an actress? She hadn’t said a word about that to him. Why not? Is that why she’d agreed to go off with him? Is that what their so-called relationship was all about? Because she needed contacts in the acting world, she’d homed in on him, the perfect sitting duck?
No, he couldn’t believe this was happening. Not again. He stared at Lila. Her smile made him think of a large tiger.
She leaned forward, stretched out one hand, let her long fingers slide along his thigh in a slow caress. “Carston? Why waste your time on an over-age wannabe actress when there’s much better around?”
****
The crowd at the press conference was so thick it was impossible to see where Carston was—or if he was there at all. Even the boys in Sherry’s band were invisible. Charlie was less of a problem, of course. Here he was, breathing down her neck as usual. Managing her life, killing off independence.
“You look great, chicken. Great but worried. What’s bothering you?”
“Where’s Carston?”
Charlie smirked. “That bad, is it? You were with him little over two hours ago. What’s the rush?”
“I want to know if the gossips have got to him yet or if Star has had a go at him. He’s not used to smutty publicity.”
“Carston’s a big boy, chicken. He can take care of himself.”
Of course he could. Carston had also been in the limelight for years. But that didn’t quash her feeling of dread. She knew she had to get to him fast, explain away any rumors he might have heard. Her eyes roved over the crowd, but she still couldn’t find him. Then a cluster of journalists surrounded her, began asking about her concert, and there wasn’t any more time to search.
“Will we be hearing new songs here in Midville, or are you sticking to your classics?”
Dutifully, she answered their questions. Soon enough everyone would start moving over to the hors d’oeuvres and begin chowing down. She’d be forgotten…for a while, anyway.
Just then she caught sight of him, standing by the large windows leading to the terrace and talking to a woman with a microphone in her hand. Another journalist. Instantly, her pulse started pounding. How incredibly sexy he was. And rugged. That Harris tweed jacket emphasized his tight, lean body, and his wonderful mouth was crooked into a faintly sardonic but totally delicious half-smile. And how out of place he looked in this impersonal banquet room. He should be standing in the woods, or braced against a turbulent sky. And she’d like to be there too, right beside him, her fingers linked through his, just the way they had been so many times in the last twenty-four hours.
Over the distance separating them, Sherry could almost feel his warmth, smell the soapy male scent of his skin, and a desperate hunger charged through her veins. Again. She was absolutely lusting after the man. And if those boy scouts hadn’t showed up last night…She cut the turbulent thoughts short.
As soon as she could free herself, she cut through the crowd, heading directly toward him, a pin locked into a magnet’s power. But when she was only a few feet away, she heard what the journalist was asking. Desire reeled out of the picture.
“And will Sherry Valentine be appearing in your next play?”
Still leaning casually against the window frame, Carston didn’t look in the least perturbed. “I never know who will be in plays I haven’t yet written.”
“But the two of you will be working together in the future?”
“In what way? Sherry’s a singer, not an actress.”
He even looked bored, Sherry thought. So why was she feeling so anguished? Should she cut in to the interview before the journalist came up with something ridiculous or compromising? Something that would give Carston the wrong idea. At the very least, she could clarify things first—things like the role she was being offered in the television series. Sherry crossed the space separating them.
“Carston—” she began.
But the journalist, ignoring her presence, continued on relentlessly. “Surely you know about Sherry Valentine’s plans to become an actress?”
“I do?” he asked calmly.
“She’s joining the cast of Baby and the Bank. Surely you know that. And since you, a playwright, are the new man in her life, it’s normal that—”
“Normal?” His mouth tightened; one eyebrow arched. He turned slightly, and his eyes met Sherry’s.
She swallowed. He’d known she was there the whole time. He hadn’t denied he was the “man in her life” had he? But he was furious with her, she could see that instantly.
He held her gaze. “Since Ms. Valentine is standing right here, you can ask her if that’s what she has in mind.”
Titillated, the journalist finally turned to Sherry. “Tell me, Ms. Valentine, how long have you and Carston Hewlett been collaborating?”
“We haven’t been collaborating,” said Sherry coolly. “I’ve been planning to work in television for some time now, long before Mr. Hewlett and I met. And there’s a great deal of difference between acting in a sitcom and being in the sort of play Mr. Hewlett writes for live theater.”
&nb
sp; “Isn’t that the whole point of the Midville Culture Festival?” gurgled the journalist. “Bringing people together so they can climb to the top of their profession?”
It didn’t matter what she said, Sherry thought. She could deny everything, but who’d believe her? Rumors linking her to a famous playwright were just too juicy. And what about Carston? Did he also believe she expected to be put into one of his plays? If his chilly exterior was anything to go by, he probably did. She had to get him alone, try to explain. He had to know he could trust her.
The journalist had turned back to Carston, was questioning him about the play he was presenting in Midville. He answered quietly, precisely, never glancing in Sherry’s direction. As if I’m invisible, she thought miserably. Or someone he’s never met before in his life. But she stayed. Who knew when they’d have another opportunity to talk? Or if he even wanted to talk to her?
Only when the finally journalist departed, did Carston’s eyes finally meet hers. But there was no complicity there now and no tenderness.
“You’re angry with me,” Sherry began. “But this is exactly what I warned you about. Remember?”
A cynical smile floated across his lips. “You did indeed warn me about gossip and publicity. But don’t you think you could also have mentioned your new career plans? We had enough time together for that to have come up in conversation.”
“Oh, come on. You were so quick to accuse me of using Bobby Blake to get where I wanted in the music world. If I’d mentioned acting, you’d have thought the worst of me.”
“Maybe.” He nodded slowly. “And maybe not. But you could have broached the subject.”
She shook her head in denial. “No, you wouldn’t have believed me. Look how you’re judging me now.”
“Judging? Is that what you call it?” Carston’s eyebrows rose mockingly. “Or am I just finding out the truth?”
Sherry sighed. What was the point of protesting? Why try convincing him of anything? He’d obviously made up his mind. If she said more, it would sound like begging—begging him to believe and trust her. Why bother? He’d closed his heart.
“Okay. I give up. Think the worst of me.”
His hand caught her arm just before she could step away. “It’s not the first time it’s happened, you see. My ex-wife, Cynthia Preston, pulled the same trick.”
Her eyes searched his face. “You were married to Cynthia Preston? The actress?”
He nodded. “Very briefly. And a very long time ago. Cynthia found it convenient to marry a playwright. She was a beautiful woman—she still is. Back then, she was at the peak of her modeling career, and thought the time was right to get into acting. She met me. I was young, inexperienced, a mere puppy. But I was flattered because I believed she loved me.”
“She didn’t? Silly woman.” Sherry had already guessed there was a story like this somewhere in his past, but what did it have to do with her? They’d only known each other for a few days, but hadn’t he understood the kind of person she was?
“I’d just won the Wilson award back then. Suddenly I was the young new playwright everyone was talking about. Cynthia zoomed in, programmed me as her personal writer, the one who’d shoot her to fame. So I created a starring role for her; I even believed we were a winning team. That was my first experience of ‘love’ in the theater world.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, it meant nothing. We married, became the most talked about theater couple of the year…until I found out Cynthia was having a very passionate affair.”
“Things like that do happen,” said Sherry quietly.
“They certainly do.” His smile was glacial. “When I confronted her, she laughed at my naïveté. Because this affair didn’t just ‘happen.’ Her lover was a man she’d been with for years before meeting me—an unknown actor married to a wealthy woman. Cynthia had decided I’d make her famous, then she’d divorce me, he’d divorce his wife, and they’d live happily ever after.”
“And did they?” Sherry asked faintly.
“No. But she managed to attach herself to a successful producer who was far more important for her career aspirations. And, believe me, Cynthia wasn’t the only person I’ve met whose ambition devoured their principles. So, you can understand why I’m not willing to wander into that nasty old labyrinth once again.”
Sherry stared at him. He was being unfair. She wasn’t Cynthia Preston, and she’d never thought of using Carston.
Then unhappiness dissipated, became anger. Why feel like a victim? And if he tagged her as a vulture, well, she could live with that too. There was something else going on here. She knew it. And it had nothing to do with acting, actresses or ambition.
She raised her chin, kept her voice even. “You know what I think? I think something happened when we met. Not just desire. Something else too. Something that makes you feel. But you don’t want that. So, to protect yourself, you’re looking for flaws. Something to burst the pretty bubble and turn me into a monster. That way you can go back to your country hideaway and never regret anything.”
His expression was inscrutable.
She turned and walked away. Leaving him standing there. With his pride, his suspicions, and all his wrong ideas.
****
Hidden by the darkness, Sherry sat in the back row of the theater watching the rehearsal of Carston’s play. Sure, she felt like a spy, even a stalker, but she was only sticking to their agreement. Even if, as far as he was concerned, it had been canceled.
She saw Carston up front, sitting in the second row. He never once looked behind him, so he never knew she was there. Of course, she didn’t approach him. Why court rejection? Damn him and his lousy suspicions. Sherry didn’t know if she was angrier with all the gossip-mongering journalists in the world or just with Carston. And why fret about such a person anyway? Her one big mistake had been to let down her defenses with a man who couldn’t do the same. He’d have doubted her sincerity no matter what she’d said. And if something tender and delicate had once existed between them, it was definitely over.
She shook her head, ordered herself to stop being melodramatic. What had really happened? They’d shared a few kisses, a few caresses, and had momentarily been carried away by one thing: raw desire. Had she really thought this was the beginning of a love story? Nonsense! Love happened between two people who cared about each another. Love was mutual. What she’d experienced with Carston had been a one-sided proposition. An obsession.
“Cut this out!” she muttered to herself. “You’re sitting here because you want to see his play, see how a rehearsal goes, see top-notch actors work. You’re here to learn.” She forced herself to concentrate on the action onstage. One thing couldn’t be denied: Lila Patterson was stunning. Tall and slender yet imposing, her curling black hair framed a perfect oval face, and those violet-blue eyes could be seen from all the way back here, in the last row. She was also an excellent actress—every gesture, every movement, every inflection in her voice was controlled.
The play was brilliant too, like all of Carston’s work. The interaction of the three actors on stage, the subtle web of words, thrilled Sherry. Yes, this was why she loved the theater. This was why she’d always read plays, gone to see them every chance she got. She’d wanted for so long to be part of this magic—magic that probably had very little to do with the Baby and the Bank production.
Still, as Charlie had pointed out, she had to start somewhere. But she couldn’t help wondering if Lila Patterson had ever needed to act in a tacky sitcom. She doubted it.
The rehearsal came to an end. Carston leapt up from his seat, went backstage. Time for Sherry to make a move. Get out of here. She’d miss the final performance in two days time. Tomorrow evening she’d be giving her own concert; after that, she’d hit the road with Charlie and her boys. If there’d been a good reason to stay on in Midville, she’d have done it. But now there wasn’t. Not any more. Hanging on would be painful, and Carston would probably just ignore her anytime their
paths crossed.
As for that romantic candlelit dinner, it was never, ever, going to happen.
Chapter Eight
She felt Charlie’s eyes on her when Carston appeared in the breakfast room, Lila Patterson by his side. They might as well have staggered into the room naked, thought Sherry bitterly. It couldn’t have been clearer to her—or to anyone else watching them—they’d spent the night together, probably making passionate love. Phooey on them both. And best wishes. So much for Carston’s supposed allergy to theater romance.
As for her boys, they were on good behavior at the moment, pretending to concentrate on eating breakfast, probably to spare her feelings. Which made matters worse, somehow. She couldn’t stand their cautious show of loyalty one minute more, even though she knew everyone meant well. Forcing herself to smile, she raised one eyebrow with unconcern.
“Cute couple,” she said calmly. After all, someone needed to break the strained silence around the table. She might as well be the one to do it.
“Oh yeah?” Charlie observed the couple across the room, thoughtfully. Then shrugged. “They don’t seem so cute to me. Just watch them. Patterson look happy to you? Like a woman with a guy who’s madly in love with her? When she glanced this way a second ago and saw you—well, chicken, if looks could kill, you’d be a roast.”
“Oh please, Charlie.” Sherry shrugged with fake indifference and nonchalantly reached for another piece of toast, determined to show her appetite was undiminished. “How could Lila Patterson think I’m a rival if I’m not even playing the game?”
“Good for you then. Keep away from the guy. If the big romance between you and Hewlett is over just because you’re moving into the acting scene, that makes him a write-off in my books.”
“I can’t believe we’re going over the same old ground again,” said Sherry, exasperated. “There was no big romance between Carston and myself. We went out for dinner one night. We got stuck in a barn another night and—”
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