by Thea Dawson
“You didn’t need to bring that. I only need you for a couple of minutes.”
“Thank you, Chris, for your thoughtfulness and for supporting the local economy.” He cocked his head and looked at her with a mildly disapproving expression.
She couldn’t fully hide a smile. “Thank you, Chris, for your thoughtfulness and for …” she glanced at the wine label, “supporting the state economy in the form of one of the largest industrial winemakers, if not an actual local winery.”
He glanced at the label himself then shrugged. “At least it’s not from California.”
She laughed and led the way into the kitchen. “Good choice. Oregonians are very sensitive about their wines. I’m sure it’s lovely.” She reached for a corkscrew and a couple of glasses.
Given his spiffed-up appearance, it felt almost date-like. It had to be admitted that she’d dashed upstairs to comb her own hair and put on fresh lipstick as soon as she’d gotten home, but she hadn’t thought about breaking out wine.
“I notice it’s not Chardonnay,” she observed, pouring them each a glass.
“Pinot gris. Much more au courant than Chardonnay.” He picked up a glass. “Where shall we sit?”
“How about the living room? Let me grab my calendar.”
She sat next to him on the couch, spreading the calendar out on the coffee table in front of them. She’d tried not to sit too close to him, but she couldn’t help being aware of his presence next to her. Her body seemed to hum in his proximity. She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the way her heart had picked up its pace.
“Here’s the deal. We need a place that can hold at least 100 people, and that’s nice enough to justify $100 tickets.”
“Yes!” Chris pumped his fist. “I talked you up from fifty!”
“Yes, I decided you’re worth at least $100. Unfortunately, there aren’t that many places around. I think our best bet is the Cooperton Room. It’s a really lovely room at Falls State that we can rent. It’s not cheap, and we’d have to serve wine and hors d’oeuvres supplied by catering, which adds another layer of expense, but it’s do-able. Unfortunately, between wedding receptions and conferences, it’s being used a lot more than I would have thought over the summer, so we’re limited on dates.”
Chris was fumbling with his phone to pull up his schedule. “So what days are free?”
She tapped the paper calendar on the table. “Last Thursday in June, but I think that’s too soon for me to organize the auction—”
“No can do, anyway. Got a convention thing Chicago.”
“Second Wednesday in July—”
“Nope, TV appearance in New York.”
“Third Monday in July—”
He grimaced. “Works in theory. That’s right after the Galactic Crusaders premier.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I could get called in for some press stuff, but with this much lead time, I can probably work around it. Might be our best bet.”
“Let’s do it.” She scribbled Silent Auction on the calendar while Chris texted a quick message to someone, then took a sip of wine. Now that business was out of the way, she was awkwardly aware of him sitting next to her, and was suddenly at a loss for what to talk about.
She shouldn’t have worried; Chris could always find something to talk about.
He glanced around the living room, his eyes landing on a stack of magazines in a basket by the couch. His eyes lit up with glee.
“We-ell, look at this.” Chris pulled out the tabloid that Charlotte had bought the other week in the living room. “Doing your research?”
Joy felt her cheeks start to warm. “That’s Charlotte’s.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “Sure it is. Well, don’t believe any of it. It’s all lies.” He tossed the magazine onto the coffee table in front of them. His face on the cover, so uncharacteristically stern, stared at both of them.
“Even the parts about you being charming and talented and extremely good in bed?”
He looked scandalized. “Did that actually say that?” He reached for the magazine again, but she snatched it away with a laugh and opened it up, taking the opportunity to shift away from him so that her back was against the arm of the couch and she was facing him.
“No, but let’s see what they got right.” She gave him a wicked grin.
“No, come on—” he tried to grab the magazine from her, but she pulled it out of reach. He leaned back on the couch, resigned.
She read the headline with an extra dose of drama in her voice. “Chris McPherson: Will This Star Keep Rising or Will He Crash and Burn?” She cleared her throat and began reading the body of the article. “‘He may be Hollywood’s newest bad boy, but Chris McPherson has a flair for the art of charm. He is waiting for me at an outside table at Republique, one of LA’s most popular bistros. With a diffident charm that reminds me of Jimmy Stewart, and the body of a young Brando, his charisma is instantly apparent. But like those stars of yesteryear, Hollywood’s newest darling has a dark side, too.’”
“That article was my publicist’s idea,” he said quickly. He sounded embarrassed. “To use my ‘dark side’—” he made air quotes, “to give me ‘depth.’” More air quotes.
“Body of a young Brando” she raised her eyebrows in ironic respect. “That’s deep.”
“Put that trash down.” He wasn’t looking at her and no longer sounded amused. “God, I wish I had half Brando’s talent. “ he replied, staring into the empty fireplace. “I wouldn’t be worthy of getting the man coffee. “
The raised brows stayed in place but lost the irony. “You’re very talented,” she assured him, surprised at his sudden seriousness.
“Not like Brando talented.”
“Why not like Brando talented?”
He made a snorting sound that was half humor, half exasperation. “I’m a comedian, Joy. I’m pratfalls and snappy one liners. Campground was Yogi Bear meets Cheech and Chong, and Crusaders is all fight scenes and special effects. Sure, they buffed me up for it, but I’m not exactly Stanley Kowalski material. “
It was on the tip of her tongue to tease him but the look in his eyes stopped her. The conversation had suddenly grown serious.
“That’s ridiculous. You could play any role you wanted to.”
His gaze slid from the window to the table, not meeting hers. “Nah. I’m a lightweight. Which is fine. I like the idea of having a career in making people laugh. The world could use more laughter. “
“Not arguing, but that’s not the same as thinking you can’t play serious roles. Victor always said you could play anything.”
He met her eyes finally. “Victor said that?”
“Yeah. You know, the summer after Much Ado, we did Henry the Fifth. Luke played Henry, and he was great, but I remember Victor saying he wished you were there to play him. He didn’t say that to Luke, of course, so keep it secret.”
Chris looked optimistic for a moment then his expression grew wry. “Well, Henry, maybe. Callow youth for most of the play. Practically typecasting.”
Joy snorted. “I’m done coddling you, you idiot. Henry stepped into his greatness when he was called. You will too. Until then, no whining.”
“You think I’m whining?” The smile that played around the corners of his mouth told her was more amused than offended.
“Yes, whining. Victor’s motto, remember? No whining. Now, is there a ‘serious’ role you’d like to play?”
“Fine, no whining,” he agreed with a light laugh. “And yes, there is a project I’d like to be involved in.”
“Tell me about it.”
He leaned a little closer and she noticed his eyes light up, enthusiasm replacing the insecurity of a moment before. “You know Vanessa Swink, my costar from Galactic Crusaders? Everyone thinks of her as just a pretty party girl, but she’s actually really smart and talented.” Joy nodded encouragingly. “She’s written a script about a porn star. It’s kind of like Boogie Nights, but from a woman’s point of view. It’s g
ood, Joy. It’s dark, it’s gritty, but it’s got a really powerful message about redemption … It’s going to be an amazing movie, if she can ever get the financing for it.”
“And she wants you to be in it?”
He nodded. “She approached me about playing a character who’s based on a friend of hers. He makes it big in porn, but he’s got too much baggage and ends up overdosing. A lot of bad things happen to him. It’s not a glamorous role.” His eyes caught hers. “But I think I could carry it off.”
She was dying to ask if he really was dating Vanessa Swink but resisted. “Is that going to be your next project, then?”
He shook his head. “It’s a couple years down the road, probably. Assuming Crusaders does well, we might end up financing it ourselves.”
“Wouldn’t that be expensive?”
“Yeah, millions. It wouldn’t just be us. I mean, we’d have to get other people on board, but she asked me to think about being co-producer with her. And why not? If I make a lot of money off Crusaders, what the hell else am I going to do with it?”
Joy thought guiltily of Lawrence Hall and its leaky roof and wondered if this would be the time to approach Chris about it, but she hesitated a moment too long and Chris went on.
“But we can’t wait too long.” He gestured to his torso with his cheeky smile. “I’m not going to have Brando’s body forever.”
She wondered what that body looked like underneath his clothes, and promptly blushed at the thought. She dropped her eyes to the tabloid to avoid his gaze, but there he was again, in glossy color. She closed the magazine and put it on the table, reaching again for her glass of wine, trying to look natural although every movement she made felt scripted. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling at her in that teasing way. Had he recognized her moment of discomfort for what it was?
He’d always had an unerring instinct for weak spots he could tease her about.
He shifted a little closer to her on the couch, his nearness both alarming her and causing a little spark of heat to flare deep within her.
“How’s your wine?” he asked.
“Delicious,” she answered, trying to maintain her composure.
“I rather like it myself.”
From the way his eyes had darkened, she didn’t really think he was talking about the wine anymore. Nervously, she bit her lower lip and saw his gaze follow the movement and lock on her mouth. She swallowed. She was forty years old, for crying out loud, but her heart was pounding like a teenager’s.
He reached for her wine glass and took it out of her hand, placing it on the coffee table. He leaned toward her again, putting a hand on one knee.
“Joy—” he began, but whatever he was about to say was lost in the sound of the front door opening and what sounded like a herd of people coming in. A voice rose above the din, shouting, “I’m home!”
They straightened up and shifted away from each other. “Charlotte,” they said at the same time.
Charlotte bounded into the living room, Cat and Zena close behind her. The three of them stopped abruptly at the entry as if stopped by a force field.
Charlotte’s face lit up at the sight of Chris. “Oooh, company! We’re not interrupting anything, are we?” she asked hopefully.
Joy cleared her throat. “We were just going over the, uh, auction. And stuff.”
“With wine.” Charlotte gave them two thumbs up. “Rock on, Mom and Chris. Mom, okay if Cat and Zena spend the night?”
“Sure,” said Joy. She rather liked having a house full of kids, and Cat and Zena had been a fixture on the majority of weekends over the past year. She couldn’t say no just because Chris was here.
“Awesome!” Charlotte said. “We’re going to go …” she looked at the ceiling, clearly trying to think of a reason to leave, “… not be here. See you at rehearsal tomorrow, Chris.” She smiled brightly and turned to pull Cat and Zena into the kitchen, where they could be heard giggling and whispering and getting into the refrigerator.
“See you all tomorrow,” Chris called after them. He gave Joy a regretful smile. “Maybe I should go, too. I’m supposed to get up early to go running with Rob and Luke.”
“Oh, that sounds great!” Relief and disappointment battled in Joy, disappointment winning. “I need to get up early too. Yoga.”
They pushed themselves off the couch, and Joy walked him to the front hall where she opened the door.
“Thanks for coming over—and thanks for the wine,” she said.
“No worries,” he muttered with a distracted air.
She thought he was about to say something else, but they were interrupted by another shriek of laughter from the kitchen.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said again, and vanished into the night.
It didn’t surprise Joy that Taylor was already at work when she got there at 8:30 on Monday. She sat at the receptionist desk in the front of the office, looking far more alert and put-together than Joy felt. Joy liked to have things in their place, but Taylor was almost fanatical in her ability to keep her desk orderly. No matter how busy she was, Joy had never seen her desk look even a little untidy. The only thing on it that suggested so much as a hint of a personal life was a framed photo of Taylor’s daughter, who looked to be about six.
“Morning, Taylor,” Joy said, trying to suppress a yawn as she walked past.
“Good morning,” Taylor replied brightly. “Oh, Joy, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how are things going with Chris McPherson? I saw the write-up in the Sunday paper about the play. Great article, by the way.”
Taylor’s voice was a little too casual, and Joy felt a twist of guilt. Pursuing Chris as a donor had been her idea, and it must look to her like Joy was swooping in to woo him and take all the credit.
“It’s going well. You know, it’s just coincidence that we ended up working on the play together, right? I wasn’t trying to hone in on your prospect or anything.”
Taylor waved an understanding hand. “I’m just the office assistant, Joy. I wasn’t really expecting to be put in charge of qualifying a major donor. But if you’re thinking about pursuing him as one, I’d love to help.” She smiled eagerly.
Joy was momentarily stuck for words. She couldn’t in all honesty say that she was trying to get Chris on board as a donor to the university ... but she clearly had an in with Chris, and Harv had hinted strongly that successfully pursuing him could play a major role in getting her promoted ... but taking advantage of her position as co-producer of the play felt disingenuous ... Ugh.
“Yes, you should absolutely be involved.” She tried to sound decisive. “Harv showed me the research you’d done on Chris and it was very thorough. I was impressed. I’m not sure that this is the best time to approach him, though. Maybe wait and see how this movie of his does.”
Taylor nodded her agreement. “I saw that you’d been in that play together back when he was a student, so I sort of figured you might be the best person to make initial contact,” Taylor continued. “But I’m really good at back-end stuff, and I’m here to support you in any way I can.”
Taylor had an intensity to her that Joy found somewhat overwhelming, but she couldn’t deny that the younger woman was whip smart and very hard-working. Clever girl was trying to make the most of the situation … unaware that there wasn’t really a situation to begin with.
“Great, thank you.” Joy tried to sound enthused. “I’ll let you know what’s going on as things unfold.”
She escaped into her office only to be interrupted a few minutes later by a knock at her door. She looked up to see Harvey holding a copy of the Sunday paper.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked with his trademark friendly grin.
“Just my morning coffee,” she said, smiling to show that she didn’t mind.
Harvey waved the newspaper at her. “Sounds like you and Chris have been spending some time together on this play. I’ll get right to the point: what are your thoughts on appro
aching him as a donor?”
It was selfish, maybe, but Joy didn’t want Harvey or anyone else distracting Chris from the play.
“He’s very eager to do some good in the world,” she said, trying to choose her words carefully. “And I think he really cares about Silverweed Falls. But he doesn’t have the money yet for anything major. Maybe once the play is over, and he’s not focused on that, we could think about approaching him for something like a matching fund campaign or being the figurehead for a fundraising campaign.” Wasn’t she pretty much parroting what Taylor had suggested? She was almost tempted to tell Harvey to go ask her for ideas.
“Fair enough,” Harvey replied. “I’ll defer to your judgment on that. Now, what about you? Have you given any more thought to stepping into Linda’s shoes?”
“I thought I had to deliver Chris McPherson on a silver platter for that to happen?” she asked drily.
Harvey waved the paper impatiently. “I didn’t mean it to sound like a quid pro quo thing. We’ll have to conduct a search for Linda’s position, and you’ll have to apply like all the other candidates. Obviously if you brought in a big name and a major donation, it would make it easier to justify giving you the job. But you’ve got an excellent track record, and of course, you’re already working here, so I think we could push you through. But you have to want it, Joy, because once we open up the search, you’ll be up against some stiff competition, and it’s a big step up from what you’re doing now.”
Joy knew it was a big step. It would mean more money, more prestige, less computer time and more face-to-face with donors time. It was a great opportunity.
So why couldn’t she leap at the chance to tell Harvey how much she wanted it?
She groped for something she could say that would leave her options open without having to pretend she was excited.
“I’m not worried about the competition,” she said after a moment, managing to project a surprising amount of confidence. She wasn’t worried—because she didn’t really care about the job. If she got it, great.
If she didn’t? Well, the thought didn’t bother her as much as it should have.