Starcrossed Hearts

by Star Crossed Hearts (lit)

  Dane rushed to catch up with her. "Miss Taylor? Could we have a word?"

  Jessica turned and smiled. "Yes, Mr. Pierce?"

  "You’ll be at the party tonight?"

  "Ah…I don’t think so, Dane."

  "You have to be there. It’s in your contract." He grinned. During the course of the last several weeks, he’d grown a mustache as Roger Boyer, and while Jessica found it rather becoming on Roger, she decided it detracted from Dane’s seductive mouth. Momentarily hypnotized, she reached up to touch his upper lip with her fingers, slowly shaking her head.

  "When is this coming off?"

  "For you I would shave my ass."

  She couldn’t help a giggle at his unexpected response. The green eyes squinted at her in the sun, and, as if sensing a concession, he touched her forearm. "Good! Seven o’clock, casual attire, no-host bar…"

  This made her laugh, and he boldly reached out and pinched her cheek gently. "That’s my girl. See you later."

  In her room, Jessica fell backwards onto the bed and again focused on the ceiling fan. This awful little room was about to become history. This cramped, stuffy little cell had seen it all, especially the tearful nights after Mac had flown out of her life for some terrible reason she couldn’t fathom. But she would not succumb to that misery now, although she knew she could be right there again, crying her eyes out and wondering all over again why he’d gone so abruptly, so unhappily.

  She turned on her side and, grasping a pillow to her chest, fell asleep. Her dreams were a mural of scenes from her worst thoughts; of Mac, angry with her, and of Dane’s dancing eyes, taunting her. She awoke with a start and quickly looked at the clock: 7:45. She couldn’t believe she had slept three hours, and sat up. A glance out the window provided a view of a bonfire, just yards down the beach, and forty or so people gathered to roast a pig. A steel drum band was just warming up and several party animals were dancing in the sand.

  She rubbed her eyes and sighed. The scene looked festive and gay, and she decided she’d go for it. But first, she must call Mac and tell him she was coming home. He would want to know that, in any case.

  She dialed the familiar number, regretting that it was only 4 p.m. at home. He might be out.

  "Hello?" Jessica’s eyebrows went up as she heard the sound of a woman’s sultry voice answering her call.

  "I’m sorry, I must have misdialed. Is this 555-6849?"

  "Um…Yes." Silence. When Jessica didn’t speak, the woman went on. "If you’re calling for Cory, he’s…not available."

  Jessica was stunned. She had to think fast, and found a voice she didn’t know she had. "No--I was calling for…Jessica."

  "She doesn’t live here anymore." The woman said flatly before hanging up the phone.

  Jessica put down the receiver slowly, finding it difficult to cradle it properly. She stared at it, then in an impulsive rush, took her wallet from her purse and found a snapshot of Mac and Megan taken at the pier. "No," she whispered. "I don’t believe it."

  Dropping the wallet on the bed, she stood and looked into the mirror, seeing Mac there instead of her own face. Her vision showed her Mac, holding some unknown woman in his arms. Suddenly, nausea overcame her and she ran for the bathroom.

  Forty minutes later, Jessica emerged from her cabin, freshly showered and wearing a wrap around, spaghetti-strapped Hawaiian shift. She was barefoot and carried a rolled-up blanket under her arm, walking smoothly and unhurriedly toward the partiers down the beach.

  "Hey--it’s the Oscar nominee!" someone shouted.

  Truly, she was a picture of confidence and quiet beauty, greeting people and returning their congratulations as she moved through the group. Slowly but deliberately, she made her way to the gaping ice chests filled with beverages for the party, and selected an almost full bottle of cold Chardonnay. Turning back toward the fire, she sought Dane’s eyes and walked back.

  Dane, sitting near the flames, gave her an appreciating grin. He was the perfect picture of the successful young director, greedily enjoying the spoils of his latest achievement. He looked handsome and dangerous, Jessica thought, in his half-buttoned, white gauze shirt and tan shorts. Melinda, obviously "well into her cups," was hanging on him, and he kissed her periodically, all the while his eyes not leaving Jessica as she moved, almost seductively, in his direction. And his upper lip bore no trace of the objectionable mustache.

  Reaching the fire, she paused for a moment, exchanging solemn, silent communication with him before she continued walking on down the beach into the darkness. A couple of revelers called out for her to join the dancing, but their words were lost to the warm off-shore breezes.

  She walked until the fire was just a tiny, bright spot in the distance and she found a group of boulders protecting a small cove. She spread the blanket and turned around to face Dane, who she knew would be right behind her. Wordlessly, she handed him the bottle and he twisted out the cork.

  Dane took a long draught from the bottle, then handed it to her and she did the same. She sat the bottle in the sand, then untied her sash and let the breeze blow the simple dress open, exposing her trim, naked body; her fingers began calmly and adeptly unbuttoning his shirt and pants, and soon they were both nude and facing each other on the blanket.

  He did not smile or speak. He took her into his arms, gently at first, and kissed her as they sank to their knees and finally to the blanket, where their lovemaking quickly accelerated into a furious and exciting pace. She surprised him with the urgency of her demands on him, but this only enhanced the erotic aura that surrounded them and he took her lead. Not looking for tenderness tonight, Jessica seemed uninterested in the playful sensuality that Dane would have normally initiated, digging her nails into his hips as she pulled him against her.

  "Whoa, baby…slow down," he cooed, chuckling to himself as he maneuvered her position below him. "We have all night. No need to rush."

  Dane, himself, was very much in control, savoring her, unleashing upon her the passion that had been growing out of the tremendous tension between them since their arrival on the island weeks before. He possessed every part of her, kissing her, massaging her, biting her, and making her wait for the ultimate climax to their union. Roughly he pinned her arms above her head, and her struggle to free them seemed to drive him mad with desire; Jessica was wild with anticipation.

  And afterward, after she had cried out in ecstasy and pain, Dane lay beside her, stroking her hair back in smooth, caressing movements, soothing her exhausted body and pounding heart. It was she who spoke first.

  "What do we do next," she asked quietly, "now that we’ve made love on the beach."

  "You’ve been wanting to go home since we arrived. Now you get your wish."

  "What if I don’t want to?"

  "Don’t want to go back to L.A., or home to Mac?"

  She didn’t answer at first. She traced his lips with her fingertip, and he grabbed it with his teeth. "Mac has…his own life, Dane. I know you have these ideas…but really, we’re just friends. Mac is a kind, wonderful person, and I’m very grateful for all he’s done, but that’s as far as it goes."

  "Bullshit, Jessica."

  "Do you never tire of using foul language, Dane?"

  "What are you going to do when you get there, go back to being Jack and Jill?"

  "I have to get a place. I have to move my stuff. I want to get a new project going, Teddy has several scripts for me, I have to keep working, you see."

  "Does Mac know you’re moving out?"

  "Of course he does. It was only temporary until I came home anyway. And you were right about his being involved with someone else, and about him denying it. She’s answering his phone, so she damned-well exists."

  Dane chuckled to himself. "Not jealous, are you? And anyway, I never said that," he corrected her.

  "Sure you did, in the car that night."

  "What I said, dear heart, was that he was involved with someone. Not someone else. You, darling, you’re the one scr
ewing with Mac’s head." He leaned close and bit her earlobe.

  "You’re out of your mind," she retorted. His mouth was sending shivers down her back, and she turned and pressed her body against his.

  "He never told you, did he? About why he hit me."

  "No, and it isn’t important. You can be really crude sometimes, Dane, and although I’ve never seen Mac’s temper driven so far, I’ll bet you could do it."

  He smiled at her. "I told him that you and I were…intimately acquainted…and that he’d better get into the running quick or I would take you away." He watched her face for a reaction. Her eyes were wide and turning to anger. "He was insane with jealousy. He hit me before I knew what was happening."

  "How could you…You son-of-a-bitch! I don’t believe you did that!"

  "Look, it had to be done. I wanted to know if my instincts were correct…I have a rather personal interest in this affair."

  "You baited him on purpose. Dane, you’re worse scum than I thought." Her words were biting, but she was truly more interested than angry.

  "Unfortunately for both of you sorry kids, he wouldn’t listen to me. He has a certain…aversion to me. So it’ll be up to you to bring him around, Jess."

  She scoffed at his suggestion. "Mac’s got someone else, I told you. She’s in his bed right now. I heard her voice."

  "Look, if he’s screwing some bimbo while you’re gone, it’s only because you’ve got him so wound up he can’t see straight. Jessica, sex without love is like…like a wrestling match with a big finish. That’s all. For a guy, it can be…routine."

  "A wrestling match? Is that what this is all about?"

  "I wasn’t talking about us." Dane rolled onto his back and stared into the night sky.

  "Oh Dane," she whispered. "I wish things were different." Her voice took on a weary tone. He embraced her.

  "Like how?"

  "Like, I wish you and I…God! We’re so incompatible, but…"

  "But? What is it your little heart desires, sweetie?"

  "I wish you weren’t such a bastard, Dane. And I wish I didn’t love you."

  "You love me? Since when?" He smiled in apparent amusement.

  "Since forever. And you know it. And you’re being a rogue and a jerk and even an asshole doesn’t change it."

  His smiled waned and he sighed. "Jessica, I have to be honest with you. I…hmmm. This is difficult." He seemed off guard for the first time. "I care…a great deal about you." He was choosing his words carefully, she could tell. "But even if I was free of my obligations, even if I felt worthy of you…I couldn’t begin to make you happy. You said that yourself, to me, and you were right. And anyway," he hesitated, weighing his next offering, "it was Mac’s name you called out in the hospital, and…his name you whispered in my ear tonight. I know when I’m licked."

  His words were like small hands gripping her heart and squeezing. Her face felt warm, her tears hot; and despite the painful words, he pulled her close again and began slowly, tenderly arousing her once more. This was it, the last time they would be together. They both knew it, and his own voice was tight with emotion as he whispered to her.

  "No anger this time, darling, this is for us." Hearts breaking, they made love again; and soon he wrapped the blanket around them. The ocean breeze had turned cool.

  Part Four: New Love, New Life

  Nine

  Homecoming

  "I wish I could go with you to the airport, but I just can’t," Dane was saying as they loaded her luggage into the waiting bus. "There’s a million things waiting to be tied up."

  "Don’t worry yourself, Dane. I’m fine, really."

  "Be careful, sweetie." He hugged her in full view of the dozen or so people waiting to board the bus. There was some comic applause, and Dane extended the expected finger to them behind his back. He lowered his voice. "Jessie, I’ll be back Saturday. If things get tangled up for you, you’re welcome to stay with me for awhile, if you want. You’d hate it though, I’m not particularly attentive, as you know." He grinned. "I’ve already spoken with Peter. He’ll take care of anything you need."

  Jessica fought back the tears. Would she be crying forever? "Thanks, Dane. I think I’ll be fine." She hugged him tightly, then turned to get on the airport taxi.

  "I’ll call you," he said.

  "Don’t make promises, darling."

  ~ * ~

  Miami International Airport was a busy, scary place. It was 7:30, and Jessica found a pay telephone and wearily sat down. She winced, her body subtly reminding her of the marathon intimacy she’d shared with Dane. It’s a wonder I can even walk, she thought ruefully. She dialed Roxie’s number. It was 4:30 p.m. at home, and she sighed with relief when Roxie answered.

  "Jessie! Where are you? Are you home?"

  "Not yet. Miami. Is everything okay?"

  "Everything’s ducky. Are you coming home?"

  "Roxie, that’s why I’m calling. My flight gets in around nine p.m…I know it’s a lot to ask, but…"

  "I’ll be there. LAX?"

  "Yeah…thanks a lot, Roxie."

  "No problem-o. But…did you call Mac? I would think--"

  "No." She paused, not able to explain why she hadn’t called Mac. Of course Rox would expect him to pick her up. "Can you come?"

  "I’ll be there."

  Jessica’s mind was numb with overworked emotions. On the flight to L.A., she couldn’t sleep despite her exhaustion. She lay back and stared out at the soft carpet of clouds below the jet, lamely trying to organize her jumbled thoughts and the unbidden images of the weeks passed.

  Dane had roused her just before dawn from the sandy alcove where they had spent the night. They watched the sunrise together on the sand. He’d been more than responsive, but Jessica was consumed with melancholy. What was happening to her? Despite the tenderness Dane had shown her, the overtones of love he’d finally relinquished to her, she felt empty and dispirited.

  The memory of her desperate, almost wanton behavior of the night before made her face hot with shame, and spawned the even more painful memory of what had driven her into the lustful encounter with Dane.

  It had been the phone call to Mac.

  Jessica felt her insides tighten with grief. She had unconsciously knotted the hem of her blouse into her fist. How could she face Mac?

  It would be different if he hadn’t come to the island. If he hadn’t been so…loving. If he hadn’t kissed her!

  "Miss? Is everything okay?" A male flight attendant was leaning over her. She struggled to sit straighter and forced a smile.

  "Sure. Fine, thanks." Just peachy. Involuntarily, her thoughts returned to Cory MacKendall. Was it possible that she’d actually called his name while making love with Dane? Her face burned again. The thoughts would not stop; her filmstrip mind was projecting a scene between herself and Mac. She ran her fingers through his burnished golden hair, around the strong shoulders and down his chest. She could almost feel his smooth, tanned skin and the firm strength of his muscles…

  "No," she whispered, shaking her head to herself. Her pulse raced at the thought of touching Mac, not in the casual way they’d always touched, but in a loving, intimate way.

  "No," she repeated. These visions had to stop, now. Mac had another woman in his life, and she feared that even their friendship was at stake.

  Weary with anxiety and physical fatigue, Jessica was only mildly relieved when the jumbo jet touched down in Los Angeles.

  ~ * ~

  Roxie wanted to know everything, every detail of her trip and about the film. Jessica told her about the bugs, the frogs, the hurricane; about the Pacifica, the damaged cabin and the cantina. As they turned into the subterranean parking underneath Roxie’s townhouse, she turned to Jessica. "And what about you and Dane?"

  Inside, over hot chocolate, Jessica sketched out the details of her relationship with Dane, and Mac’s surprise visit and hasty flight home. She guardedly asked if Roxie had been in touch with Mac.

  "We’ve spo
ken a few times. He’s been really kind, listening to me rave on about my new business. He gave me the name of his attorney to help get my contract squared away. Why do you ask? Haven’t you two kept in touch?"

  "Not really." She broke down then and told Roxie the awful story about the phone call and the woman.

  Roxie was thoughtful and offered no opinion.

  "And worse, Dane’s got this stupid idea that Mac’s in love…with me!" She tried to look carefree about this information, but failed in Roxie’s eyes.

  "How does Dane feel about it?"

  "Dane…well, Dane’s Dane. He was actually really…good…to me just before I left." Her voice wandered off as she remembered the night before on the beach, and this morning’s affection. "What are you thinking, Rox?"

  "That you have to call Mac, and soon. If he finds out you’re home and you haven’t called him…" Roxie pressed her lips tightly together and raised her eyebrows at Jessica.

  "Right now I’d rather call my mother." Jessica replied, despondently. It was going to be a tough week.

  ~ * ~

  They stayed up late, too late, for Roxie had an early day ahead. But they talked about everything they’d missed of each other’s lives and got just about caught up around 2 a.m.

  "So, you been dating at all?" Jessica asked, tiredly pulling a nightgown out of her bag.

  "Well, I didn’t want to mention it, what with all that’s going on with you," Roxie began, pulling a blanket off the closet shelf. "I did meet someone."

  "Oh, do tell, you brat! How could you even consider keeping it from me?" Jessica gave her a mock pout.

  "His name’s Tom Jarrick. I met him at Helen’s."

  "Oh, it’s ‘Helen,’ now?" Jessica teased.

  "Yes, dahling, Helen introduced us. He’s a screenwriter. He wrote the screenplay for her next movie. He was there for lunch." She paused, hugging the blanket to her chest. "He’s everything that every other man hasn’t been. He’s warm, sensitive and…mature. He knows where he’s been and where he is and where he’s going. He’s divorced, he has a teenaged son, and yet he’s really young himself. He took me to Disneyland!" Roxie giggled. "And, we didn’t even have sex until the fourth time we went out."