Love's Last Chance Page 12

  She hung up and sank down on her bed. That had been more difficult than she thought it would be. She padded into the living room to find Meg and Chaz having tea.

  “Join us?” Meg offered.

  Dorrie shook her head. “I’m too wound up for anything, but thanks,” she said as she wandered around the spacious room, moving from window to window.

  Meg trained her gaze on her new friend. “So? Did you talk to one of the guys?”

  “Archer.”

  “And what did he say? Come on, come on, I’m dying to know.”

  “I told him about the job offer here and asked him to think about what it might mean for us…”

  “And what did he say?”

  “I asked him to call me in two weeks.”

  “Two weeks! You won’t even be here then! Damn!”

  “We’ll be in L.A., Meg,” Chaz reminded his wife.

  “Oh. Yeah.” She smiled, cuddling up to him. “Good. Still have to wait two weeks. Damn.”

  Dorrie laughed. “You’re so into this. Tell me, do you have a favorite guy for me?”

  “I don’t know them, personally, but I have a bet going with Chaz.” Her husband nudged her with his elbow. “Oops. I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

  “A bet?” Dorrie’s eyes widened. “And…who do you each pick?”

  “We’re not saying. Right, Meg?” Chaz shot a stern look at his wife.

  “Right. We don’t want to influence you.”

  “What did you bet?” Dorrie asked. Both Duncans blushed furiously.

  “Can’t tell you that either,” Meg said, turning her gaze away from her friend.

  “Oh my God! I hope I’m as happy and horny as you guys when I get married someday.”

  Chaz stood up, picked up the tea cups and Megan’s hand. “Time for bed. We have an early day tomorrow.”

  “And a strenuous one!” Dorrie put in. Chaz groaned and teased her, “Slave driver!”

  The three retired to their bedrooms. Dorrie gazed at the moon for a bit, wondering what the men would say to her in two weeks. Exhaustion from an active day put an end to her thoughts quickly as sleep engulfed her.

  The next day was busy from early morning until after sundown. Dorrie was on the go with final rehearsals. Fine-tuning each routine required repetition until the point of exhaustion. Tempers flared, there were tears, and still she worked the dancers hard.

  “You’ll thank me when we have a perfect performance for the cameras. Go home. Go to bed, alone. Come in rested tomorrow and ready to work.” Dorrie slung her bag over her shoulder and limped to a taxi.

  When she and Chaz arrived home, Meg served dinner. Chaz was almost as tired as Dorrie. She exchanged notes with him about the dance numbers while they ate. Chaz opened a fresh bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and the three sipped it in the living room. Meg rubbed his back and legs while Dorrie massaged her aching ankle.

  “Going to place another call?” he asked.

  “This casual act will get you nowhere. You two are obvious as hell.” Dorrie laughed.

  “Okay, okay, you got us. Who is it tonight?”

  Dorrie sat back, resting her leg on a small ottoman. She blew out a breath and took another mouthful.

  “I’m not sure I have the energy to face another phone call.”

  “But you’re leaving soon,” Meg pointed out.

  “Might as well get it over with.” Picking up her glass, she retired to her room. Rick was next on her list.

  “Dorrie, thought you might be winging it back to L.A. by now.”

  “Nope. We’re filming next week. Did Drake call you?” She stretched out on her bed.

  “He did.”

  She groaned. Dammit. Wanted to get to Rick first.

  “Did he tell you about my job opportunity in New York?”

  “Yep. Sounds great. When are you moving back?”

  “That depends.”

  “On the three guys?” There was a sarcastic tone to his voice.

  Angry bile rose in her throat. You vindictive bastard, Drake.

  “Sort of. I was wondering, if I did come back to New York—what about us?”

  “You and me?”

  Quit stalling. A moment of silence followed.

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  “I was thinking—I have a good offer on the TV series for Hustle and Dance, but life is more than work. If I came back to New York to work and be with you…would you be interested?”

  “Interested in you? I’m always interested in you.”

  “I mean with any kind of commitment.”

  “Would you be seeing those other guys, too?”

  “Just you. I didn’t mean to set this up as a competition. Damn Drake for telling you. I’m trying to make a…a…choice.”

  “Which guy is ahead?”

  “No one. It’s not like that. Geez. I’m not explaining myself very well.”

  “What do you want, Dorrie?” She heard the impatience in his voice.

  “I want to be in love, committed, to one man who’ll commit to me.”

  Again, there was no reply.

  “It’s been five years…”

  “You don’t have to decide now. I’m giving each guy two weeks to think about it.”

  “Two weeks? Okay. I can do that. If every date is like the one we just had, well, it’s a slam dunk.”

  “So will you call me in two weeks?”

  “And tell you if I want to commit or not?”

  “Uh, yeah. I guess.” She squirmed on the bed and stood up.

  “Sure. Why not? I think you’re amazing, and every day with you is a gift. Having you in my life on a regular basis would be awesome. But you need a commitment? I do need to think about it. Should I call this number?”

  “Yep. Are you okay with this?” She chewed her lip.

  “I understand. You’ve got a decision to make. Just trying to gather all the data you can before you decide which job to take, right?”

  “Right. Directly to the heart of things, Rick. Knew I could count on you to get it.” She blew out a breath.

  “Talk to you in two weeks,” he said and hung up.

  Dorrie padded into the kitchen for a glass of water, but got waylaid by Megan.

  “So?”

  “So?” Dorrie shot her a questioning glance.

  “What did they say? Did you call all three? Do they all know about each other? Which one is in the lead?”

  Dorrie laughed. “Slow down.” Megan followed her and watched while she got ice and filled two glasses with water. The women sat down at the little table.

  “I spoke to Arch and Rick. Both were okay with it.”

  “Do you have an inkling of which one will want to commit?”

  “Not really. Now that leaves Johnny.”

  “Wish I could be a fly on the wall for that conversation!” Megan chuckled.

  “I wish you could be the one having it instead of me.” Dorrie took a long swallow.

  “Aren’t you curious to know what he’s going to say?”

  “I’m just hoping he doesn’t hang up on me. He was pretty ticked.”

  “About the other guys? Maybe that’s a good sign?”

  “Who knows? At this point, I have no idea what anyone is going to say…and a sneaking suspicion all of them are going to say ‘thanks, but no thanks’.”

  “Then you’d be alone.”

  “Yeah.” She took another long drink.

  “When are you going to call Johnny?”

  “Tomorrow, right after we finish shooting.”

  “This is better than a reality show. Good luck.” Megan took a last sip of her water then put her glass in the sink.

  “Thanks. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need it.”

  * * * *

  Despite some tossing and turning during the night, Dorrie managed to get enough sleep to get out of bed and to rehearsal on time, though she needed to hop a taxi to do so. Her justification for the expense was that she was saving her ankle, which was
true.

  She was on location for the shoot by six a.m. to get the dancers warmed up and have a few run-throughs before filming began. Gunther Quill arrived five minutes later. She almost spit out her coffee when she heard his voice.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You’re surprised to see a producer at a film shoot?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “Well, no, I guess. But I thought you’d send an associate or something.”

  “And deprive myself of your company? Not on your life.” His smile was anything but warm.

  “And how’s Olga, or Ursula, or whatever the hell her name is? You remember, your fiancée?”

  “You mean Elsa? She’s on location in Spain.”

  “You’re alone?”

  “I suppose you could call it alone. You can change that. Why don’t you come and stay with me? I have a fabulous suite at L’Chateau. I’ll give you a massage every night.”

  “I’ll bet. Thanks, but I’m staying with Chaz and Meg.”

  “Too bad. We could have so much fun together.” His eyes glittered with lust.

  Before Dorrie could respond, the assistant director and the set decorator arrived and preparations kicked into high gear. Dorrie downed the last of her coffee and put the troupe through their paces. Sound engineers tested mikes. Lighting engineers set up special spots and calibrated the natural light. The makeup artists and hair stylists moved in. There was plenty of action, more than enough to make Dorrie forget about Gunther’s proposition.

  Three cameras were set up. Gunther listened and examined, barked orders one minute then evaluated things silently the next. She watched him consult with the assistant director on every shot. Admiration for Gunther’s commanding presence poked through her emotional wall. She had to admit he was an excellent producer. Doesn’t mean I should allow him to orchestrate my life. And I’m not going to become his mistress. He can fire me, but he’ll never change my mind.

  Her resolve hardened as determination entered her heart. I’m going to make this a success no matter what. No one is going to stop me. Especially not Mr. “Cheater” Quill.

  “A frown on such a beautiful face,” Gunther chided her.

  “I’m concentrating. Focused. I have a job to do. Please get out of my way.” She pushed past him and called the dancers onto the set.

  The day was a long one. At every break, Gunther sauntered over to her and sat down. He’d whisper in her ear or massage her ankle. She squirmed under the knowing glances she got from the dancers. They think I got this job because I’m sleeping with him. Damn you, Gunther. Get away!

  “Move. Let me breathe!” She switched chairs to be away from him.

  “I’m drawn to you like a moth to a flame.”

  “The dancers think I’m sleeping with you and that’s how I got the job.”

  “What’s the problem? Make it come true.”

  “Gunther! Go! Shoo!” She waved him back a few inches, and he wandered off like a fox who had left the henhouse without a chicken.

  Chaz joined her. “What’s going on with you and Gunther? Seems to me like handling three guys was stressing you out enough. Now you have four?”

  “Gunther is not one of my guys. And never will be.”

  “Never say never,” Chaz said, wagging his finger at her. “He’s a rich and powerful man.”

  “Been down that road once with him. Once was enough.” She blew out a breath.

  Chaz changed the subject, “Shoot’s going well,” he said.

  “Yeah, thanks. So far, so good. Still, until I see what they got, I won’t feel secure.”

  He patted her on the back. “Hang in there. A few more days to go and this’ll be in the can.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled at him. Gotta love a friend like Chaz. “By the way, you were smokin’ and perfect. Just perfect. Wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Chaz laughed. “Would you tell that to my wife, please?”

  “Megan adores you,” she reassured him.

  “I know. Just yankin’ your chain.” He turned his brilliant smile on her.

  When, the break was over, Dorrie and Chaz returned to the set and began to work. Gunther lurked in the background, watching her every move.

  * * * *

  After an exhausting day, Dorrie needed to soak in the bathtub. She unwrapped her ankle and slipped into the warm sudsy water with a deep sigh. The bath, just the right temperature, calmed her nerves and soothed her aching body. Feels damn good.

  She sat back and thought about calling John Flanagan. Her phone sat in the back pocket of her pants on a stool nearby. She bit her lip. If I call him now, I’ll have an excuse to make it short. Sorry, John, I’ve got to get out of the tub.

  She hesitated. He was angry. Probably still is. Damn, I don’t want to talk to him. She picked up the washcloth, soaped it up, and idly scrubbed her leg. I have to know if he’s the one. If he was, he probably isn’t now. She frowned. Still. Have to give him a chance. Never should have trusted Drake.

  Dorrie pulled herself up and wiped her hands on a towel. She slipped her cell out of the pocket and slid back down into the soapy water. She dialed and pressed it to her damp ear. Maybe he’s not home. Maybe he’s out screwing some girl. Anger bubbled up in her chest.

  “Dorrie?”

  “Yeah.” Then silence. Stop it. You’re mad before you even talk to him. Give him a chance.

  “What’s up? I thought we said all we had to say on the ride home.”

  Ouch! Yes, he’s still mad.

  “Not exactly. I have something else to tell you.”

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? Let me sit down first.”

  “It isn’t bad. In fact, it’s good. I’ve been offered another job.”

  She went on to tell him about the job in New York and her dilemma.

  “You’re trying to decide between two jobs and three guys?”

  “Not exactly.” She bit her lip. Yes, exactly. Can’t fool you, can I?

  “Then what, exactly?”

  She was at a loss for words.

  “Maybe…you’re right.”

  “What do you want from me? You already know everything about me. What’s left to say?”

  “One more thing. Please.” She knew he couldn’t resist her pleading.

  “Okay, shoot.” She heard exasperation in his voice. She stumbled. Should I forget John? Is he too far out of reach?

  “Promise not to laugh?”

  “Tell me, tell me—I won’t laugh.”

  She mentioned that if he wanted to commit, she’d think about taking the job in New York.

  “I already asked you to move in with me.”

  “That was when you thought I’d be in L.A. You knew I wouldn’t give up this job to live with you. And when Drake told you about the other guys, well, I figured you’d probably change your mind.” There was no reply. Dorrie raised her arm up out of the water.

  “What’s that?” John asked.

  “What?”

  “That noise?”

  “Just me splashing in the tub.”

  “You’re naked?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Didn’t think it was relevant.”

  “Being naked is always relevant,” he snickered.

  “To you, maybe.”

  “Okay, okay. Back to your…plan, or whatever.”

  “Look, it’s okay. Forget it. I made a mistake. I get it—you’re not interested.”

  “What the hell? You ask me then answer for me, assuming I’m not interested. I can’t win with you, Dorrie, can I?”

  She was quiet. What the hell am I doing? “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up and let you talk.”

  “Better. Let me think about everything, okay? I’ve never been committed to a girl for longer than a couple of months. I’m committed to my job, right now. Can I think about it?”

  “That’s okay, Johnny. I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do.
Hey, you gave the other guys two weeks. At least that Rick guy.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Your dear friend, Drake.”

  Damn him!

  “So, do I get the same courtesy?”

  She sighed. “Okay, you can think about it. Call me in two weeks with your decision.”

  “Fine. Thanks.”

  She hung up. Cross him off the list. By now, the bathwater had cooled off, and Dorrie was shivering. She got out, wrapped herself in a towel, and padded into her room. Wearing a fluffy, white terry robe, she sat at the dressing table, brushing her hair, when a soft knock on the door took her attention. It was Megan.

  “Come in,” Dorrie called.

  “So? What did John say?”

  “Cross him off.” She gathered her clothes and headed for her room.

  “Cross him off? That’s it? Come on, give. There must be more to it than that.”

  Dorrie’s chest tightened, tears threatened. Meg put an arm around her, and Dorrie weakened. She needed to confide in someone, and Meg was there.

  “Why don’t we have a cup of tea and you can tell me about it. You don’t look happy.”

  Dorrie nodded. Megan guided her into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. She peered at the clock.

  “Ten. Tomorrow is going to be brutal.”

  “Just one cup. Fifteen minutes. I think you need to talk. I won’t say a word. Just listen.”

  Dorrie did need to spill all to her new friend. With both her folks gone and her brother in Afghanistan, Dorrie was alone and needed an ear. Mom, why aren’t you here, when I need you so much. You’d know what to do.

  Fifteen minutes turned into an hour. Although she was no clearer on where her heart was going, she was relieved to have unburdened herself. Meg proved to be a sympathetic listener, whose only advice was to wait for the men’s responses in two weeks before making up her mind.

  Sleep came quickly to Dorrie, who was physically and emotionally exhausted. No sooner had she closed her eyes than the alarm sounded, telling her it was five o’clock. A few yawns and stretches got her blood going. She pulled herself out of bed. Major number to shoot today. She smiled at the prospect, knowing she was ready and the dancers knew the routine.

  As she tiptoed toward the front door of the Duncan’s apartment with her dance bag over her shoulder, her resolve hardened. Meg’s right. I’m not going to make a decision or even think about the guys for two weeks. I have work to do. No time to worry about love. She closed the door gently and headed for the street.