Love's Last Chance Page 5

  “Have I changed much?”

  “Still sexy as hell,” she muttered. He laughed and joined her on the bed.

  “You’re beautiful, more beautiful than ever,” he said, his eyes feasting on her.

  “You say the sweetest things. Kiss me.”

  He did as she asked, taking her mouth with boldness and passion. He broke for only a second. “Protected?”

  “The pill,” she replied.

  He gathered her in his arms, holding her tight and kissing her. Then, he traveled south to do his magic on her breasts, while his fingers stroked her core in a gentle, sexy rhythm. Dorrie was overcome with desire as pressure mounted inside her. She thrust her hips up to his, asking to be taken.

  “Not so fast,” he uttered, then returned to heating her up beyond endurance. He slipped one finger in her then another.

  “Holy hell, Rick!”

  Reaching out, she curled her fingers around him and squeezed gently.

  “If you’re gonna do that,” he began, removing her hand then getting up on his knees. “I’m going to substitute this.” He rubbed against her to spread some lubrication then slipped himself inside.

  She gasped as he thrust hard, pushing all the way in. “Oh my God!”

  He slid his hand over her mouth for a moment. Then, he lowered his lips to hers and pulled out almost all the way before thrusting in again, hard. Dorrie hooked her leg around his waist and bucked her hips up. Biting down gently on his shoulder, she was able to muffle her response enough to keep it from being heard outside her room.

  Rick kept up a steady rhythm until Dorrie thought she’d lose her mind. Her back arched, and her muscles clenched, as the tightly wound cord of desire sprang free. Pleasure rocketed through her veins. She moaned against him and tasted the saltiness of sweat mixed with the taste of Rick.

  Once she climaxed, he increased his pace and matched her groans, burying his face in her hair to absorb the sound. He thrust two more times then stopped to enjoy his release. Lowering himself down on her gently, he kissed her neck.

  “Amazing. Awesome, Dorrie.” His warm breath tickled her, making her smile. The chemistry is still there. She clasped her hands together behind his back, hugging him. I could do a lot worse than spending my nights like this for the rest of my life. She grinned.

  When he stretched out, fingers laced behind his head, she seized the chance and cozied up to him. Resting her head on his pecs, she sighed.

  “I didn’t think that’d ever happen again,” he admitted.

  “Maybe I was a little…hasty, before,” she said.

  They lay on the double bed, sharing a few moments of silence. Dorrie shut her eyes, assuming Rick would stay overnight. Before long, he eased her off his chest. She opened to spy him glancing at his watch. She sat up and cocked her head.

  “Early morning meeting.” He tapped his finger on its face.

  She nodded. He dressed quickly as she sat back with her hands linked behind her head and watched him. Tricky Ricky or really has a meeting?

  “How long will you be here?” he asked as he folded his tie and put it in his jacket pocket.

  “Another two weeks, then one last weekend. I can finish a little early on Saturday, if you’re—”

  “Saturday?” He shook his head. “It’s my weekend at the Hamptons. Leaving Friday at noon.”

  “Oh.”

  “The house is full, or I’d invite you.”

  “I have to rehearse all weekend, just off at night.”

  “That’s a shame. Maybe one night next week?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll call you.” He bent over and kissed her. Before she could utter a word, he was out of her room and in the hallway. Faster than a speeding bullet. She brushed her teeth then slipped underneath the sheets and flipped out the light. The moon taunted her, the silvery light hitting her right in the eyes. She stared at it.

  “So, is he the same? Tricky Ricky?”

  Silence greeted her statement. We’ll see if he calls. He didn’t sleep with me to get even, did he? Nah. Guys don’t spend money on dinner to get even. He was into it as much as I was. More questions with no answers spoiled her mood. She closed her eyes and sleep came quickly.

  Chapter Four

  Dorrie awoke with work on her mind. She left early to take her time walking to the studio, giving her ankle some gentle exercise. Fortunately, the night’s rest had refreshed her tendons, and she was ready to dance.

  At three o’clock, a knock on the studio door interrupted the dancing. A man delivered a vase of red roses to Dorrie. She read the card.

  Thanks for a great night.

  Love, Rick

  Dorrie smiled and endured prying and teasing from the dancers.

  Chaz gave her a knowing look. “From Mr. One or Mr. Two?”

  “Two.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Seems someone scored last night…and I don’t mean on the baseball diamond.”

  “Chaz!” Dorrie laughed and cringed at the same time.

  It wasn’t just sex for him. She breathed a sigh of relief then refocused on the rehearsal, turning on the music.

  “The hip-hop number. Let’s go,” she hollered and clapped her hands. The young men and women rose slowly from the floor and took their places. “Chop, chop! Come on.” Dorrie took her place in front and put them, including Chaz Duncan, through their paces.

  Vigorous rehearsals continued, stopping later and later each night. Eating, sleeping and driving the dancers through routine after routine was Dorrie’s life. At ten o’clock on Wednesday night, Dorrie was icing her ankle in the kitchen at the Cunningham’s when Drake wandered in.

  “You’re working too hard, Dorrie.”

  “I have to make this perfect. We’re shooting in ten days.”

  “You’re going to kill your ankle.”

  “This is helping. It has to last.”

  “At least until the reunion weekend on Fire Island?”

  “Crap! That’s this weekend, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Damn.”

  “Your dancers will be happy to have two days off.”

  “Two and a half days off. We’re leaving Friday, right?”

  “Yeah. And you’re going out tomorrow night, right?”

  “God, I almost forgot! I’m meeting Archer at the Philharmonic. I hope I can stay awake.”

  “Don’t you think you’re biting off a bit more than you can chew?”

  “I’m squeezing a lot into a short time, that’s all.”

  “Why don’t you cut these guys loose?”

  “Oh? And just focus on Johnny Flanagan?”

  “Well, sort of…or be open in case someone new comes along.”

  “Someone new? Tell him to take a number.” She laughed. “I have all the men I can deal with in my life right now.” She pushed to her feet and dumped the remaining ice in the sink.

  “Thanks for worrying about me, Drake.” She kissed the top of his head before heading for her room.

  Lying in bed, she tried to focus on Archer, but Rick nagged at her. He hasn’t called. Said he would three days ago. Sent flowers then nothing. Tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, Dorrie fell into a fitful rest until morning.

  She awoke late, after a restless night, feeling cranky. Rushing around to get ready didn’t improve her mood. Three of the dancers were not on time. Stressed from lack of sleep, she yelled at them.

  The rehearsal didn’t go well. Lifts weren’t high enough, one dancer stubbed his toe, and concentration was at an all-time low. Dorrie couldn’t wait for the day to end, so she could drag herself back to her bed and a deep sleep. Then she remembered her date with Archer. Damn!

  Although her body was tired, her mind was intrigued. Spending more time with Arch can only be good. Happy anticipation filled her. He’s so sweet and stuck on me. He’s just what I need tonight. The long rehearsal meant she’d have no time to return to the apartment and would have to dress at the studio. She had been prep
ared for that possibility and packed a few things in her dance bag.

  She showered and slipped on a peach sundress. An evening at the symphony might be as restful as sleep. She smiled at the thought of being with Archer. He’s perfect for my bad mood. He’s kind. Takes good care of me.

  Her spirits rose when she walked through the door at Lincoln Center and was greeted by a warm hug and an arm around her waist. He had spared no expense and purchased terrific seats close but not too close.

  She hoped her outlook would improve and that she could turn her attention to something other than the movie. But it was not to be. Dorrie fidgeted through the concert, worried about taking the weekend off. Going for three days with no practice. Will we pay for it next week, or do the dancers need a break? Next week will be the last week of rehearsal, then a week of shooting. I hope Gunther isn’t the supervising producer.

  When the music was over, Archer took her hand.

  “Would you like to go to a coffee shop for a quick bite then off to bed?” He steered her south.

  “To bed?” She sensed the heat in her cheeks as a small smile played at her lips.

  “I mean, you, to your bed…alone. Oh dear.” His fair skin turned red almost immediately.

  Dorrie laughed. “I’m yanking your chain, Arch. I know what you meant.”

  “Heavens! Must you do that? Give me a heart attack.” He rested his palm on his chest.

  “I’d prefer to grab something quick to eat. I have a lot on my mind.” Tomorrow I meet Johnny Flanagan again. Trapped on Fire Island for the weekend with him. And he might not even talk to me. She sighed. “Sorry I’m so preoccupied.”

  “Of course, my dear. I know the perfect place. Bernie’s Burgers.”

  “Is there such a place?”

  “Would I lie? About three more blocks south.”

  “Let’s go.” She squeezed his hand and moved closer to him as they strolled west and south, toward Ninth Avenue. Bernie’s was buzzing, but there was a booth opening up in the back. Archer escorted Dorrie to the table and slid in opposite her.

  Her stomach was jumping around, so she ordered eggs. Archer had a steak sandwich.

  “How much longer are you staying?” he asked, sipping a cup of tea.

  “Depends on how the shoot goes, but about two more weeks, if everything goes well.”

  “Damn. Wish it were longer.”

  She stared at her fork for a moment then raised her eyes to meet his. “So do I.”

  “Can’t you take a few days?” He sliced off a piece of meat.

  “The producer would have my head. What if a job in New York came along? Say as a yoga or dance instructor? Think I should take it?”

  “How marvelous! Of course. You would, wouldn’t you?”

  “Maybe.” She picked up a piece of bacon.

  “What’s standing in your way?”

  “If this film is successful, there’ll be a pilot and then a series. I’d be doing all the choreography. It’s a huge opportunity.” Dorrie stared into his eyes, hoping to see a spark there.

  “I see your point.” Archer kept his face a mask, his British reserve always in place.

  “I’d stay in New York if I had…something else.” Her voice trailed off. She realized she was practically begging him to marry her, so she shut up. No way to say this without looking needy at the least. And a husband-hunter at the worst.

  “Something else?”

  “A relationship.” There. I’ve said it. She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “I see. If that’s all there is to it, maybe you’d consider coming to live with me?”

  Dorrie’s pulse jumped and her heart beat faster. Live with you? We’ve never even slept together. Not permanent enough. Am I expecting a proposal? A bit soon. Her mouth went as dry, as if she had been sipping sawdust. Putting her water glass down, she swallowed.

  “Live with you?”

  “Why not? We have chemistry. And we like each other. Known each other a while. I assure you, I’m not a serial killer.”

  “It’s a bit premature, don’t you think?”

  “Then how about if I set you up in an apartment?” He sat back, staring coolly at her.

  “What?”

  “Set up an apartment where I can come and…visit you…from time to time.” His cheeks colored slightly.

  “Like a mistress?”

  “That’s such an ugly word. Like a friend, maybe.”

  “Friend with benefits?”

  “That’s one of those new terms. I guess, yes, a friend with benefits.”

  A kept woman? I couldn’t do that. Why, if he’s single? Oh my God! Is he married? She snuck a furtive glance at his left hand, but there was no ring there. Doesn’t necessarily mean single. Not with a man.

  “That’s not…I couldn’t…that’s not me, Archer.”

  “I’ve embarrassed you,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m so sorry. I want you to stay in New York. With me.”

  She withdrew and looked at her watch. “It’s late. I’ve got to go. Early day tomorrow.” She shoveled the last forkful of eggs in her mouth and gathered her things.

  “Oh, dear. Now I’ve blown it, I’m afraid. I didn’t mean to insult you, Dorrie, dear. You’re so special to me. Always have been. Please, give me another chance.”

  She detected sincerity in his face. He does care for me. But there’s something there. Something I don’t know. Another woman? She sat back against the vinyl seat and thought for a moment, while maintaining eye contact with him.

  “I’m going to be tied up for the next two weeks until I leave. Why don’t you think about it, about us? Give me two more weeks when I get back to L.A., to catch up and breathe, then call me. We can discuss possible plans to be together then. How’s that?” Gives him time to make a choice, me or the other woman he’s seeing.

  “That seems more than fair, darling.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Must you rush off?”

  “Early rehearsal tomorrow for a few hours, then off to a ferry for Fire Island.”

  “Oh? Got a hot date?” His expression clouded.

  “Just a reunion of the crowd I shared a house with for a few summers. Jealous?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Perhaps.” His face became unreadable again. “Not that I’ve any right.”

  No, you don’t. She checked her phone. A missed call from Rick.

  “I’ve got to go. Let’s talk in a couple of weeks.”

  “You won’t forget, will you?” His brow furrowed.

  “Not a chance,” she said, flashing him a warm smile. “You’re special to me, Arch. Always have been.” He rose when she got up, pulled her close for a kiss goodbye, and then she was gone. Sitting back in a taxi on the way to the Cunningham’s she wondered what Rick wanted. Arch’s so wonderful. Still. Won’t make up my mind until I talk to Rick.

  Sitting on her bed, hugging her knees, she dialed Rick.

  “Hey, gorgeous, what’s cookin?”

  “I might ask you the same thing.”

  “Wondered if you might be available on Monday night. Dinner and…whatever,” he snickered.

  “I haven’t heard from you in a week.”

  “Didn’t you get my flowers?”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you.”

  “That night was the greatest. Can we do it again?”

  She hesitated. “I’ve got two rough weeks. Rehearsals then shooting. I don’t expect to be done any night before nine or even later.”

  “I can wait.”

  “Can we play it by ear?”

  “Sure, babe. Call me whenever you’re free.”

  “And this weekend?”

  “I’m off to my house in the Hamptons again.”

  “Thought it was every other weekend?”

  “Someone can’t make it, so the group invited me.”

  “Are you seeing someone out there?” She bit her nail.

  “You don’t think I’ve been waiting around for five years for you to show up? Of course, I’ve been dating.
Sometimes a girl out there, some in the city. Whatever. Come on, Dorrie. You can’t do the jealous, former girlfriend when you’ve been gone forever.”

  “I suppose not.” He’s right. Still, I don’t like sharing.

  “Have a great weekend. I hope you can make some time for me next week. I’ll call you.”

  Sure you will. “Right. Goodnight, Rick.” She fell back onto her mattress and stared accusingly at the moon. “I know you have it in for me, but I’m not giving up. One more to meet again before I decide what to do.”

  * * * *

  There he is. God, his shoulders are broader than I remember. Hugging the railing of the Fire Island Ferry, Dorrie stood twenty feet behind him. She moistened her dry lips while watching Johnny, who she hadn’t seen in five years.

  Her heart pounded, and she hugged the railing tighter to steady herself. Then, the man turned around. Shit! The stranger responded to her open-mouthed stare with a warm smile. Too warm. She glanced away from him to her friend, Drake, standing at her side, his dark hair ruffled by the wind.

  “That isn’t John, if that’s what you’re all heated up about.”

  “I’m not heated up about anything. It’s August.” She turned away from Drake toward the water, hoping the cool salty, spray would douse the fire in her face.

  “Yeah, sure, Dorrie. Admit it, why don’t ya? You’ve still got the hots for John.”

  “Those hots became icebergs that summer, and you know it.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Dorrie fussed with her purse and canvas bag to cover her discomfort. Drake could always cut through the bullshit. Damn him! “Is he—”

  “Yeah, he’s coming. Said he wouldn’t miss it. A five-year, summerhouse reunion? Damn.” Drake chuckled and shook his head.

  “What’s so funny?” She gripped the railing to keep from falling as the ferry listed to the left.

  “You’d think we went to college together, instead of just spending some wasted summer weekends, drinking too much and being jerks.”