Rosemary kneaded her hands nervously, her thoughts racing back over her relationship with Reuben. His problems at home and even now had to stem from impotence. Certainly she was no authority on sex, but she did know that a man’s erection stayed erect until he was satisfied. Pressed against Reuben at night, as they kissed at her door and lingered, proved to her that any hardness he experienced was so short-lived as to be almost nonexistent. There was no doubt that he cared for her given his actions; and she was sure that it had nothing to do anymore with gentling the relationship along. Not too many women with healthy sexual appetites would…No wonder Bebe Tarz strayed. Now that she’d put two and two together, she felt pity for Reuben’s wife. Her stomach fluttered nervously. Maybe the same thing was going to happen to her. So far this thing, this sharing she and Reuben had, was little more than a brother/sister relationship with a few kisses thrown in. She wanted more, needed more, and tonight was the night.
In anticipation, she had purchased a sheer black nightie and a set of red satin sheets trimmed in decadent black lace. They were so sinful looking she’d almost taken them back. Her breathing quickened at the thought of them naked together on those satin sheets. Now, as Reuben bent down to pick up her bags, she found it extremely difficult to act naturally. With his dark hair falling over his forehead he looked devilishly debonair, his eyes sparkling in anticipation of the surprise that awaited her. “One house coming up,” he said, and winked. “I’ll come back for the other bags and you can gather the boys.”
“That’s what I like, a man who makes spontaneous decisions,” Rosemary said gaily. The tremor in her voice surprised her.
There was a small knot of people near Rosemary’s house when they drove up and stray passersby stopped to stare in amazement at the huge red bow perched atop the house. Reuben pulled the car into the driveway and Rosemary leapt out, her face stunned, a cat in each arm. She had to back up and crane her neck in order to stare at the red bow. “Reuben! Did you do this? I…the bow is…Reuben, you wonderful man…I love this! Oh, Reuben,” she cried, running into his open arms. “This is amazing! I know, I know, this is Hollywood, land of magic! I will remember this as long as I live. I love you for this, Reuben, I really do!”
“You ready for the tour, Miss Connors?” Reuben asked gallantly. Jesus, he felt good. Wait until she saw the inside. “Close your eyes.” Obediently Rosemary closed her eyes. “Reuben, why am I closing my eyes?” she asked coyly. “Is the new ceiling going to blind me?…”
Reuben held her arm and gently guided her through the door. When it was closed to the neighbors and all outside sounds, he took the cats from her and said, “Now open your eyes!”
Rosemary gasped in pure delight at the room before her. For hours she’d been practicing her emotional response to this moment, so that she could do justice to Reuben’s efforts to please her—but nothing could have prepared her for the quiet, comfortable elegance of her new home. More than anything, she was aware of Reuben’s trembling arm and the excitement in his voice as he took her on a guided tour.
“Oh, Reuben,” she cried in a tremulous voice, “you’ve transformed my house into a palace. It will take me all my life to repay you for this miracle. Oh! Oh!” They went from room to room, Rosemary exclaiming at every turn and laughing at the cats as they delicately examined each nook and cranny with curious heads. “You are such a darling for doing this. I’ve never experienced anything so grand. I love it, Reuben, I just love what you’ve done. All this and the red ribbon.” She stopped dead in her tracks. “I want to save it! I want the bow, but not now. I can leave it on the house for a few days, can’t I?”
“Honey, you can have whatever you want. The bow is yours. When you’re ready to have it taken off I’ll send some of the men from the studio. Do you really like it, Ro?” Suddenly he wished that he’d spent more money, bought more elegant furnishings, but that wasn’t Rosemary’s style. Less is more, he’d told himself whenever his generosity threatened to get the better of him. And now he was part of something, part of Rosemary and this warm, inviting house. He felt connected, committed. This, then, in his mind, was the stable home he’d never had as a boy. Tears burned his eyes. His emotional cup was running over, and all it had taken to bring him to this moment was a comfortable love and a meager amount of money.
“Rosemary,” he said softly, “I don’t ever want to hear you say another word about repaying me for this.” He fished in his breast pocket for a thick envelope and handed it to her shyly. Rosemary ripped it open with shaking hands. Then, as she scanned the paper contained within, her eyes fluttered and her knees almost buckled beneath her. “You…you paid off my mortgage. Oh, Reuben, I can’t allow you to…It isn’t right. I can’t…How can I accept all of this? You are so good and generous. How can I ever thank you?”
“You just did. Your happiness is all I want. If doing this makes you happy, I’m glad I was able to do it.” She’d said she loved him for what he’d done. This was a new Rosemary, one who had temporarily lost control of her emotions. The thought made him feel powerful and protective at the same time.
She was cradled in his arms now, snuggled safely against his chest. And he felt so good, so wonderful…but she couldn’t let anything happen yet. First she wanted to put the satin sheets on the bed and wear the new black nightie, open the bottle of champagne she’d spotted in the back of the car. If tonight was going to be the culmination of their relationship, she wanted it to be perfect…so that their togetherness was sealed.
“Reuben, tell me honestly, did you choose all of this or did you have help? Everything is so perfectly coordinated, right down to the alabaster ashtrays. And wherever did you get salmon-colored roses?” she asked breathlessly, referring to an impressive bouquet in a cut-crystal vase on a polished cherrywood table.
Reuben glowed with pride as he gently stroked Rosemary’s sweet-smelling hair. “I remembered your telling me which were your favorite colors…and…I stressed comfort and relaxed elegance to the decorator.”
There was no need for Rosemary to know the decorator had at first turned up his nose in disdain at the small house; the offer of a bonus had miraculously restored the man’s interest in taking on such a “challenge.” “I hope everything reflects you, Rosemary. If there’s anything you want changed, it’s all right with me.”
“Nothing. It’s perfect, Reuben! I couldn’t imagine wanting to change one thing. Thank-you seems so inadequate,” Rosemary said fervently, “but it’s all I can say. Let’s stay home and savor all of this. Max won’t mind if we don’t go to the Lily Garden, will he?”
Reuben smiled. “I’ll call him. I was hoping you’d say we should stay home. I can’t tell you how glad I am, Ro, that you feel the same way.”
“You sit right here,” Rosemary said. She headed for the radio and searched until she found a station playing soft, restful music. When she returned to him, she dropped to her knees and untied his shoes. “I want you to put your feet up on this nice new table. Someone should look at this copy of Life magazine.” She planted a tender kiss on Reuben’s cheek.
He smiled up at her and brought her hand to his lips. “It feels so good to be here, so right.”
“For me, too,” she said gently. “I’ll see about dinner, but first I want to change my clothes. Read, take a nap. I’ll wake you when it’s time to eat.”
Reuben idly leafed through the magazine. He did feel good—very good, as a matter of fact. Tonight…
Frustrated with his new surroundings and a mistress who was ignoring him, Bismarck leapt onto Reuben’s lap. Seconds later Napoleon settled himself at Reuben’s side. Both cats purred contentedly. Reuben was familiar; Reuben was very good at tickling ears.
Rosemary tiptoed down the stairs and stood for a moment observing Reuben and her cats. She smiled happily. Her life was on an even keel, and tonight would mark the beginning of a new phase in her relationship with Reuben. The sheets had gone on in the blink of an eye. At the last second before pulling up the chenille
bedspread, she’d dropped a few beads of perfume on the pillowcases. Her nightie lay in readiness. Tonight, Reuben, she thought, I am going to seduce you, first with food and then with my body.
“Dinner,” Reuben said, “was delightful.” He’d had too much champagne, and so had Rosemary. The delicate omelets stuffed with wild mushrooms and onions and topped with a whipped cheese sauce had been a light, satisfying repast, the scalloped potatoes that accompanied them so savory he’d had three helpings. Reuben’s eyes had popped at the fragrant surprise of a dish of honey-baked apples when Rosemary had reappeared from the kitchen.
Now they were in the tiny garden with their coffee, staring up at the twinkling stars. “Do you think the stars look the same all over the world?” Rosemary asked curiously.
Reuben’s contented mood seemed to shatter. How often, when out walking after dinner at the château, had he wondered the same thing? He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Rosemary immediately picked up on his change of mood. “Let’s each make a wish, Reuben. I know it isn’t the first star of the night, but we can do it anyway. And…I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She smiled. “Wishes are for the child in all of us, don’t you think?”
Reuben’s jaw hardened. Bebe had done the same thing to him years before, and he’d wished…He gave himself a mental shake. No one—not Mickey or Bebe—must be allowed to spoil this evening for him. He deserved this; he wanted it more than anything. This was his time. “All right. who goes first?” he said, smiling at her in the darkness.
“I will. I wish that our lives will always be this good, this gratifying. I wish…I hope I’m never a disappointment to you,” Rosemary said shyly.
“That’s two wishes. You could never disappoint me, so let’s concentrate on your first wish. I think we have an excellent chance at it, since I wished exactly the same thing.”
“Reuben?…”
“Yes?”
Rosemary rose from her chair and pulled Reuben to his feet, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Let’s go upstairs…to bed. I want you to make love to me.”
He wanted to, more than anything in the world, and by God he would or he’d die trying! Desire surged through him like a river gone wild. He scooped Rosemary into his arms, kicked at the screen door with his foot, and shouldered it open. She was light as a feather in his arms, and he swore he could hear her heart beating next to his own. In the kitchen light he was shocked at the smoldering look in her eyes. Gazing at her, he drew in a deep ragged breath, his own eyes taking on a light of their own.
Beyond her bedroom door Reuben set Rosemary on her feet and drew the length of her body close to his. The silence between them seemed more eloquent than words. Rosemary drew in her breath and felt Reuben tense at the sound. He, too, seemed to have trouble with his breathing. She was conscious of his height, of his nearness, of his maleness. His arms cupped her to him, making her tingle with a pleasurable yearning. In the soft glow of the lamp Rosemary offered her lips to his. His mouth became a part of hers, and her heart beat in a wild, untamed broken rhythm.
Reuben kissed her eyes, her mouth, her cheeks, the hollow of her throat, and she felt a raging fire engulf her as she burrowed her head against his chest. It made no difference that he belonged to another woman; she wanted him, needed him. She moaned softly as his mouth again crashed down on hers in a savage, unrestrained kiss of passion. The banked fires began to smolder and burst into flame as she felt his searching hands explore her body through her clothing. His touch was scorching, searing, as her own hands ceased to tremble and she caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair. Moan after moan escaped her as she strained against him, her mouth mingling with his, her tongue searching, darting, to conquer his.
Within moments their clothing lay in a heap on the downy carpet. In the soft shadows of the night Reuben drew in his breath in a ragged gasp as his eyes beheld Rosemary’s glistening body. His face was inscrutable in the faint glimmer, but his gaze was almost tangible; she felt it reach her, touch her, and was aware of the all-consuming fire that raged through her.
Her response was unwavering as she stared deep into his dark eyes, hypnotized by them as she felt his mouth melt into hers. Her body took on a will of its own as Reuben caressed and explored every inch of her. Instinctively she moved to the rhythm he initiated and felt him respond to her in a way she had never dreamed possible. Searing flames licked at her body as she sought to quench the blazing inferno that engulfed her. He kissed her earlobes, her eyes, her moistened mouth, murmuring tender words of love as his hands traveled down the length of her, arousing, teasing her, until her breath came in short gasps and her body writhed beneath his touch.
Her flesh grew warm and taut beneath him as he pressed her down onto the softness of the bed. His hungry mouth worshiped her, tracing moist patterns on her creamy skin. His dark head moved lower, to graze the firmness of her belly, then lower still to the silky smoothness between her legs. He parted her legs with his knees and felt her respond to him, arching her back to receive him. Her parted lips were a flame that met his raging, tumultuous mouth. She welcomed him, accepted him, his hardness, his leanness, his very maleness, as he drove into her, straining against his hard, muscular chest, responding to his passion with an urgency that demanded release. The unquenchable heat that was soaring through her beat in her veins, threatening to crescendo into a raging inferno.
He lay upon her, commanding her response as she offered it, rocking beneath him, exulting in her own femininity as she caressed his broad back. The sound of her own heart thundered in her ears—or was it Reuben’s that beat and roared about them?
Gasping, she opened herself to him, and the searing, scorching aching erupted within her, consuming her in an explosion that matched his own.
Reuben opened one eye lazily and gazed at Rosemary; her long-lashed lids remained closed, her breathing slow and regular. Sensing his gaze, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. Words were unnecessary. Reuben slept then, his dark head cradled against her breast. Rosemary lay quiet, body and mind at peace. How vulnerable he looks in sleep, she thought. Defenseless, almost like a child. A truly compassionate man. She was so glad she was seeing this side of the famous man, her man now. Content, she raised her eyes and looked at the bright shaft of moonlight. It was all so perfect. She stirred slightly, and the sweet smell of perfume teased her nostrils. The slight stirring of her body caused Reuben to tighten his hold on her, and he sighed contentedly in his sleep.
Later, when Rosemary’s breathing was again deep and regular, Reuben opened his eyes and stared overhead at the moonlight filtering through the high bedroom windows. Yes, he remembered the feel of her lips on his eyelids…. She’d thought him asleep when she’d done that, and when she’d traced the line of his mouth and nose with gentle fingers. No one had ever moved him in quite this way. It confused him; he hadn’t bedded enough women to understand what he was feeling now. Liar! his mind screamed. Mickey moved you, moved you to heartbreaking tears. Rosemary had been tender, the way a mother would caress her infant.
Goddammit, he didn’t want a mother in his bed! He needed a woman. Christ, Reuben, what have you done!
Theirs was an easy, comfortable relationship. In its own way it was sexual as well as satisfying, but Reuben knew there was something missing, that elusive feeling, that wonderful intoxicating breathlessness he had experienced with Mickey. But for now this would have to sustain him.
It was almost a year into his relationship with Rosemary when Reuben began to wonder why his affair with her never made the gossip columns. While none of his peers were privy to his private life, the industry had in some way decided to protect their own. All of Hollywood was aware of Bebe Tarz’s long absences and her life-style, just as they were aware of Reuben’s sedate, consistent workaholic regimen. General consensus decreed that if he had found happiness, he deserved to enjoy it. Besides, Reuben never flaunted it in anyone’s face. It was easy to give a seal of approval because he wa
s less demanding now; he smiled and was more generous in his dealings with business associates. If there was even a whisper of scandal, the studio’s publicity heavyweights squelched it immediately. And when they closed their ranks, nothing could filter through. In no way did Reuben lose the high regard and admiration of those he worked with. He had consistently come up with cinematic winners, and this affair seemed only to accelerate his successes. After all, he was Reuben Tarz, powerful, respected, professionally infallible, the Wonder Boy, the Golden Boy of Hollywood. For years now he had made a lot of people a lot of money.
In early April of the third year of Reuben and Rosemary’s affair, two things happened that turned Reuben’s world upside down. Rosemary announced she was two months pregnant, and Bebe returned from a trip to Canada in the same condition.
Reuben sat in his office; the air seemed stale and stagnant. Stiffly he rose from his aged leather chair and walked to his window throwing it open to breathe deeply of the fresh night air. It didn’t help. As if sleepwalking, he returned to his chair and replayed the scenario of the last twenty-four hours over and over in his mind.
Why hadn’t he shown more happiness, some delight at Rosemary’s news? Instead, he’d let shock register on his face. Rosemary had backed down immediately, stammering something about the unexpectedness of it all. Then she’d apologized and cried while he’d sat there like a bump on a log, unsure of what to say. In the end he said all the right things, that he’d file for divorce and marry her. He’d thought that was what she wanted to hear, but instead she’d gotten angry. “If you’d wanted to marry me, you’d have done it sooner!” she cried. Now she didn’t want him to marry her at all—she’d have the baby herself, she said. No begrudged piece of paper would change anything. Besides, it was too late to make the child legitimate anyway. She’d asked him to leave then, something she’d never done before.
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