Starcrossed Hearts

by Star Crossed Hearts (lit)

  Jessie gazed in the mirror, still pouting. Mac leaned over to kiss her neck, but she moved away.

  "I look like I belong in the Rose Parade."

  "You need something to cheer you up," he said, walking to his dresser and opening the top drawer. He withdrew a flat, burgundy velvet box and took it to her. "Merry Christmas."

  She looked at him in surprise, now intrigued. Slowly she pulled the small box open and uttered a short gasp.

  "Oh my God," she whispered. Mac lifted the diamond and emerald necklace from the case and laced it around her neck, carefully clasping the back.

  "You’ll have to do the earrings yourself," he told her, straightening the exquisite necklace that hung almost into her cleavage. A small shiver ran through her at his touch.

  "Mac, it’s beautiful," she breathed, again looking into the mirror.

  "Ah, it pales in the presence of your face, darling."

  Jessica could not help a smile. "Did you just make that up?"

  "No, I’ve been practicing it all day. Now get your shoes. We’ve gotta go."

  ~ * ~

  Her depression subsiding, Jessica became increasingly nervous on the way to the theater. She’d been so preoccupied with her appearance she’d barely had time to think about the premiere itself and what it might mean to her career, her future. While she’d been to several in the past, never before had she been a center attraction.

  The limousine stopped behind several others ahead of them, and Jessica leaned across Mac and peered out the darkened windows in awe. Fans, hundreds of them, lined Hollywood Boulevard in front of Mann’s Chinese Theater. Somewhere there was a searchlight perusing the sky, advertising to the world that another blockbuster was about to begin its theatrical run. A huge banner bearing the "Lost Season" title stretched across one wall, with her and Dane’s faces larger than life, cheek to cheek. A narrow red carpet extended from the theater doors to the curb, and velvet ropes held back the onlookers and paparazzi that clamored for a better view. From the car ahead of them she watched in amazement as Tom Hanks and his wife, Rita Wilson, stepped onto the red runner into a veritable storm of strobe flashes and screams.

  "You ready?" Mac asked, his tone still calm, sweet, comforting.

  "Absolutely not," she said, bravely putting on an almost confident smile. The limo moved briskly, stopped suddenly, and then the door was opening. Mac’s exit was met with a torrent of flashing cameras. The usher started forward, but Mac was already turning to help Jessie from the car.

  God, help me be graceful, she prayed, taking Mac’s hand.

  The noise was the thunder to go with the lightning. Fans, women and men alike, strained against the ropes while reaching out in efforts to touch them as they made their way down the runway. Jessie grinned at them, waving back, pausing now and again for some camera pointed in her direction. She forgot about her protruding tummy, her pale complexion, the discomfort behind her ribs. Stealing a glance at her husband, she found him stealing one at her.

  Near the entrance, radio and television entertainment reporter Tom Hatten was waiting with a microphone.

  "Well, I see Jessica Taylor, I should say Taylor-MacKendall as I understand she goes by now, approaching with her NBC doctor husband, and don’t they make the handsome couple here tonight? Again I have to say for those of you not here, this premiere rivals those of Tinseltown’s hey-day, as we’ve seen Hollywood’s brightest stars turn out for Dane Pierce’s much anticipated desert island epic. Say, Jessie, Mac, I guess I don’t have to ask what you plan to do over the holidays. When’s this little project going to premiere?"

  "Three weeks," Jessie said, her smile so broad she felt her face would crack.

  "Maybe," Mac added comically, touching her belly affectionately.

  "And your Night Horse film comes out in the spring I understand?"

  "That’s right, Tom."

  "I would imagine the two of you will be taking a little time off now. So tell us Jess, what was it like filming in the Grenadines with Dane Pierce? We’ve all heard stories about rough weather, power outages, bad food, under-budgeting…was it all that bad?"

  "Positively grueling," Jessica managed through her giggles. "Dane is a slave driver."

  "Well we’ll see if it was worth the effort. In fact, unless I’m mistaken, your leading man may be just arriving." The reporter looked past them to where a white limo was opening up to a deafening roar from the crowd. Jessica stood spellbound as Dane climbed out of the car, offering his hand to Jackie behind him.

  "Should we go in?" she whispered to Mac, holding his hand tightly in hers.

  "No. Let’s wait for him." They stood aside just inside the lobby doors and watched as Dane and Jackie made a lazy path toward them.

  Dane looked nothing like the recovering, crippled man that had limped into their home for Thanksgiving dinner. His tuxedo was tailored to perfection, his face discreetly repaired by the industry’s best make up artist. And while his steps seemed casual and wandering, the MacKendalls knew it was merely a ruse to disguise the hitch in his walk. They both watched in fascination as Dane talked to Hatten, his conversation lively and, it would seem, almost joyful.

  "Yes! I’m glad to be here. It’s been a tough year." He squeezed Jackie close to him as he spoke. "No pain, no gain, right Tom?"

  "If you say so, Dane. You are the man of the hour. The fans certainly aren’t disappointed. And it looks like it’s about time to go inside."

  Dane’s eyes lit briefly when he spied Jessica waiting. He shook Mac’s hand firmly, then leaned down to kiss Jessie on the cheek.

  "Well, this is it, guys. Everybody pumped?"

  ~ * ~

  Mac looked at Jessie from time to time during the screening. She was clearly hypnotized, and she had not let go of his hand since they’d gotten out of the limo. It was her first time, he reminded himself. And this film would make her career. It would forever change her life, their lives, setting forth an image for her whether she ever made another one or not.

  She had worried, he knew, about watching the love scenes. She’d confided as much to him earlier. So when the inevitable finally played before them, the sensual sand tumble between Mariah and Roger in the Caribbean sun, Mac leaned over and whispered into her ear, his voice low and seductive.

  "Would you like…some popcorn?"

  Jessica closed her eyes and sighed, a smile forming on her lips. She leaned back toward him as if to reply; instead she grabbed his earlobe in her teeth.

  "Shame on you," she whispered, but Mac was not to be bested and captured her mouth for a kiss in the darkness, both startling and delighting her. Beside her on the other side, Jackie was whispering to Dane.

  Dane, however, might well have been alone in the theater as he watched himself embrace Jessica on the screen. Jackie was no more than a gnat buzzing about his ear.

  ~ * ~

  As the credits rolled, so did the tears down Jessica’s face. She had not expected the sudden rush of emotion at the film’s end, and she could not explain even to herself the feelings that moved her to cry. The film was beautifully complete; the music lush and romantic. Indeed, Amande appeared all the island paradise it was meant to be. There was her name, below Dane’s on the screen, and the names of the many people she knew who had performed the magic to get the story onto the film. And the Pacifica, majestic and strong, rocking to its own mysterious theme.

  She continued to cry and to marvel as everyone else stood to applaud Dane’s magnificent success. Mac held his hand out to her, and she gratefully allowed him to help her to stand. She went to Dane and hugged him.

  "It was good, wasn’t it?" she stammered, repeatedly wiping her cheek with the back of her finger.

  He didn’t answer, just patted her back consolingly while smiling at Mac over her shoulder.

  "It was wonderful, Jess," Jackie was saying, stepping between them as Dane released Jessica. "My gosh, you’re so huge!"

  Jessica’s smile faded as she regarded Jackie. At 5’8", Jackie seemed
to tower above her, especially since Jessica had chosen low heels in consideration of her unwieldy condition. And Jackie’s dress, a short, strapless, red silk sheath seemed to glow in the dim theater lighting. Jessica turned back to Mac and again grasped his hand.

  "Drop me off," she said once the limo was underway.

  "You don’t want to go to Dane’s party?"

  "No. I just want to go home. I’m tired, the baby’s been beating me to shreds all evening."

  "I’ll call him," he said simply, reaching for the car phone.

  "No, don’t do that." Her voice was perfectly glum. "You go, Mac. Explain to him that I’m not feeling well. He’ll understand, but you should go."

  "And leave you home? I don’t like that much."

  "Just go for awhile. Have a good time. I’m sure it will be fun, I hear Jackie’s made him put up a Christmas tree and lights and everything." Jessica tried to sound enthused, and Mac grinned as he fussed with the button on his cuff. "Here," she beckoned, and he dutifully held out his right wrist while she carefully refastened the button.

  "God I love this shirt on you," she said quietly.

  "Sure you don’t--?"

  "I’m sure."

  "Maybe you should give Dane a call."

  "No. I don’t feel like arguing with him tonight. Just give him my regards."

  "As long as I don’t have to kiss him."

  ~ * ~

  Mac wandered around the great den, admiring the collected evidence of Dane Pierce’s many successes. Here were small brass soccer trophies sitting side by side with the Golden Globe he’d won for Sioux Nation, the Oscar for Bellerive. A framed letter from the president leaned in one corner beside a "People’s Choice" award that acted as a bookend for several copies of the Lost Season script. The supporting bookend was a ceramic statue obviously constructed by a junior sculptor.

  Mac paused before a shelf holding a group of randomly placed photos and snapshots. These were clearly Dane’s favorites, and Mac eyed them with interest. Besides the many pictures of his children, Dane had collected some very old photos that Mac presumed were images of Dane’s parents; yes, the tall man did indeed possess the same glint in his eye, the same sardonic smile.

  Three snapshots of Jessica completed the assortment.

  Mac frowned in concern. He was not at all irked or even surprised to find his wife’s photos in Dane’s home; it was the absence of Dane’s fiancée’s lovely face that bothered him. Well, they had not been together that long, Mac reminded himself, taking a sip from the glass of ginger ale in his hand and leaning closer to inspect a shot of Jessica posing on the deck of the "Pacifica" in Amande.

  "She’s really beautiful, isn’t she?"

  Jackie’s voice startled Mac so that he nearly spilled his drink as he spun around. She’d crept in so silently that he’d been totally unaware of her presence, and now she leaned back against the door until it snapped shut.

  "Jessie? Well, I’m a bit biased," Mac responded easily, giving Jackie a warm smile. Jackie smiled back, approaching him with a glass of wine in her hand.

  "Dane would appear to agree," she murmured. "He’s on the phone with her now, even as we speak." Jackie made no attempt to disguise her disappointment, and now Mac was noticing the tentative way she held her glass.

  "Yes, I know." Mac took the glass from her and put it on the shelf. "I think you’d better go easy on that stuff."

  Jackie looked at Mac solemnly and moved closer to him, reaching out to caress his forearm. "I don’t know about marrying him, Mac."

  "You don’t know? That’s a pretty serious thing to say."

  Clamping his hand over hers, he subtly stopped her from stroking his arm.

  "He doesn’t love me."

  "Jackie, he proposed to you." Mac didn’t like where this was going.

  "I’m not his first choice."

  "I think you’d better discuss this with Dane, not me." Mac attempted to pull away from her grasp, yet she gripped his arm tighter and moved to stand just before him. Sliding her fingertips lightly up his chest, Jackie turned seductive eyes upward through her black lashes; Mac watched the vivid red nails approaching his shoulders.

  "I can’t talk to Dane. But I can talk to you, Mac." Jackie’s voice was sultry. As she pressed closer to him, Mac could not keep his eyes from the severe cut of her neckline, her now heavy breathing exposing a cleavage that seemed to be deepening by the moment.

  "Jackie--"

  "Must be a little lonely for you lately, what with Jessie so…you know…surely she’s not up to satisfying a man like you…" Sliding her arms around his neck, Jackie now pressed her slender body against his, rocking her hips forward ever so slightly.

  "Jackie, look--you don’t know what you’re doing. You need to cool off a little…then we’ll talk." Mac tried unsuccessfully to untangle her arms from his neck.

  "Oh, I do know what I’m doing, Mac. I’ve been thinking about this, about Dane and Jessie, and about you…it all makes sense. Admit it, you find me attractive, don’t you?"

  Mac looked at Jackie; the smoldering gray eyes, the scarlet, pouting mouth; her creamy white shoulders threatened to lift her full, almost erotic breasts right out of the strapless gown she wore as her breathing now became almost panting. Her tiny waist was only slightly narrower than her trim hips.

  "Well, don’t you?" she repeated, her fingers delving into his hair, her chest lifting seductively. The scent of her cologne was compelling and feminine. Mac shook his head.

  "Jackie, of course you’re attractive. But--"

  "Kiss me."

  "No."

  "Kiss me, Mac…I need it! I need you, now. Let him have his little princess! Just kiss me, let me show you I can be good for you, I can make it good--"

  "No. Stop this, Jackie--"

  She smothered his opposition with her lips, sliding her thigh between his and pressing it against him.

  Delaying only a moment, half from the sheer surprise of her attack and half from his own unconscious involvement, Mac grasped her head firmly between his hands and pulled her away from his face. Yes, she was attractive, and yes, Jessica had become nearly off-limits during the last couple of weeks. Jackie was certainly a nice piece, he thought fleetingly, sensing his own arousal with a mixture of surprise and disgust.

  "Jackie--" he began again as she prepared to renew her assault on his mouth. He was wondering how to separate himself from the situation without hurting her when the door opened and Dane walked in, pausing to peruse the scene before sauntering to the couch.

  Dropping her arms away from Mac, Jackie cast Dane a defiant look; Mac let out a relieved sigh and raised his hands to Dane’s questioning eyes.

  Dane’s face split into a dangerous grin and he dropped down onto the couch, spreading his arms to rest comfortably on the couch back. "Jessica sends her love, Jackie," he said, chuckling sarcastically.

  "I think you two need to talk," Mac advised, walking to the door.

  "Don’t go far, man. I won’t be long." Dane’s eyes were on Jackie as he spoke to Mac.

  After a tentative glance at Jackie, Mac left the room, closing the door behind him and feeling shaken by the whole affair.

  ~ * ~

  Dane patted the couch beside him. Jackie shook her head.

  "Come here." Dane’s voice was soft but deadly, and Jackie sat hesitantly on the couch. "What’s going on?" he asked casually, too casually for the look in his now deep jade eyes.

  He reached to caress her cheek with the back of his hand before slipping his fingers into the ebony mane. Jackie closed her eyes, a soft smile completing the dreamy expression on her face. Tangling his fingers into her hair, Dane suddenly made a fist, winding the locks painfully. Jackie’s eyes flew open and she gasped.

  "Don’t screw with Mac, sweetheart."

  "He wanted me, Dane."

  "Don’t delude yourself."

  "I could have him."

  "No. That’s where you’re wrong, Jacqueline." Dane released her and stood. "If you
want to spread your legs for someone other than me, there’s ten or fifteen guys waiting in line out there right now. Be my guest. Use my bed. But keep your talons off MacKendall. Got it?"

  "Is he the only man you’re jealous of?"

  "Jealous? Of you and Mac? Ha! That’s rare." Dane paced away, then turned, his hands on his hips. "Mac’s off limits. You’ll only embarrass us all if you pull that shit again. There can be only one woman for Mac. You should know that."

  "Just like there can be only one woman for you. The same woman." Jackie’s voice was cold and hateful.

  "You’re drunk. Go to bed. We’ll talk about this another time."

  "Don’t tell me what to do, Dane."

  But Dane Pierce had dismissed her and was leaving the room.

  ~ * ~

  Mac thought she was asleep.

  Sliding between the sheets beside her, he moved close behind, pressing his face into the coolness of her hair.

  "Missed you," Jessica whispered sleepily.

  "Not like I missed you," Mac responded.

  "Dane called me."

  "I know."

  "Did you enjoy the movie, Mac? Was it really good?" With difficulty, she turned to face him.

  "I almost hate to admit how good it was."

  Satisfied, Jessica closed her eyes. "How was the party?"

  Mac stiffened slightly at her inquiry. "Fine." He paused, running his hands around her stomach thoughtfully. "No. That’s not true. Something happened, and I need to talk about it."

  Jessica’s eyes fluttered open. "What happened?"

  "You won’t believe this…Jackie tried to seduce me."

  "She what?"

  "Jess, it was unreal. She just came up and sort of…jumped on me." Sensing her shock, he hurried on. "She was drunk. She and Dane are already in trouble, I guess. I got the feeling he doesn’t treat her very well."

  "Dane couldn’t possibly be mean to Jackie. He’s going to marry her."

  "I rather doubt that now. He walked in on the whole thing."

  Jessica’s eyes widened in amazement. "He did? What did he say? Did he think it was your idea?" Her words rushed out in an excited whisper.