Love's Last Chance (3 page)

She chewed her lip, thinking about the
decisions before her.
A lot will depend on the men. Why come
back, if there’s no one to come back to? But it’s my career, and I
should do what’s right for me. Do I want to walk away from these
guys again? If I do, there’ll be no going back.
She jumped as
the sound of Drake’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“You look serious,” he said, scratching his
stubbly chin.

“Oh my God, I didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. What’s
up?”

Dorrie gave him a thumbnail sketch of the
new option in her life and the decision looming before her.

“Don’t make your decision based on a guy.
Guys are flaky. They can change their minds. Do what you want with
your career.”

One glance at her watch let her know she was
out of time. “Thanks for the advice, Drake.” She patted his
shoulder, slipped into her shoes, and headed for the door.

“Besides, you never know when a new man will
appear,” he said.

I’ve got enough men to deal with right
now.
Time for thinking had run out. She had to get the
rehearsal going, or this shoot would be a disaster, and she’d be
down to one career option in a jiffy. She raised her hand in a wave
to Drake as she slipped into the hall.

On her way to the studio, she called Grace
Brewster to discuss her work dilemma.

“It’s great to have a choice,” Grace
said.

“I suppose. But what about the guys?”

“Tough choices.”

“I’m thinking if I make a connection, it
might be best to come back.”

“And give up the TV series?”

“Maybe.” Dorrie chewed her lip.

“Why don’t you see how it goes with the guys
first. Then decide.”

“Good advice. Thanks.”

She hung up and continued walking.
I’m
not going to tell the guys about the New York job. Let’s see how it
goes when they think I’m going back to California. If we make a
connection, I’ll tell them. See if they want to commit
then.

Satisfaction at having a solid plan made
Dorrie smile and put a zing into her step. She increased her stride
and proceeded with confidence to the rehearsal hall. At the
appointed hour, she took the troupe through their exercises and
began to map out the routines to be shot in the park. Strength
emanated from her. Hope at rekindling love in New York buoyed her
spirits and released new energy, which she needed to lead the
dancers.

I’m going to make this choreography
shine. The dancers are focused, with only a few drama queens in the
crew. I know the routines cold.
Her weak ankle held through the
morning workouts, boosting her good feeling about this job.

You’ll see, Mr. Gunther Quill, who can
create original, stunning dance routines to make your movie shine.
You won’t be sorry you hired me.
Feeling strong and smart,
Dorrie didn’t worry about talking to Archer Canfield.
This
morning, I can do no wrong.

Lunch break was the perfect time to connect
with Arch. Dorrie brought a small sandwich and found a spot nearby
in the park to eat. She bolted some yogurt for dessert and dialed
the number for Moonlight Books.

“Archer Canfield’s office,” came the cool
greeting from Archer’s secretary.

“May I speak to Mr. Canfield?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Dorrie Rodgers.”

“Just one moment, please.”

Dorrie’s heart pounded.
What if I got it
wrong? What if he was only being a polite Englishman? What if…what
if…

“Dorrie! Is it really you?” A deep voice
with a thick, British accent interrupted her thoughts.

“It’s me.”

“How wonderful to hear your voice! Where are
you? Can you come to lunch?”

“I’m in New York. I have rehearsals today,
but I’m free for dinner. Is that too—”

“Not at all,” he piped up. “Dinner would be
magnificent. Where would you like to go?”

“How about that adorable little restaurant
near your office?”

“You mean Maison Rouge?”

“That’s it!”

“Shall I pick you up?”

“Not necessary. Can we meet there at
seven?”

“Perfect. Looking forward to seeing you, my
dear.”

“Me, too.” Dorrie signed off. A tingle shot
through her spine, but a glance at her watch told her she’d be late
getting back to rehearsal if she didn’t get moving in five minutes.
She walked down West End Avenue, humming.
I can’t wait to see
Arch again.

The rehearsal hall had warmed up with all
the bodies working out and the summer heat seeping in. She turned
up the air conditioning. Chaz Duncan followed her in. She had met
him after seeing
Hustle and Dance
on Broadway. She liked
him. Even though he was a big star, he was down-to-Earth, and so
was his wife, Meg.

Dorrie started the group with stretches
before she explained the scene and demonstrated the choreography.
Her weak ankle continued to hold. She could still dance, just not
hour after hour, day after day. Chaz joined in, as he would be
dancing in the movie just like he had in the Broadway show.

When rehearsal finished, she raced back to
the Cunningham’s apartment and jumped in the shower. After towel
drying her thick, reddish-brown hair, she fluffed it up with her
fingers. The long locks fell in loose curls over her shoulders. She
stood, poised at the closet door, pondering what to wear. A small
knock preceded Chrissy’s entrance.

“I hope you don’t mind…”

“Come in, come in. I’m trying to decide what
to wear.”

The two women examined each garment with a
critical eye.

“What exactly do you want to accomplish?
Seduction or polite conversation?” Chrissy asked.

Dorrie laughed. “I don’t know. Guess I want
to look as good as possible without being slutty or obvious.”

Chrissy nodded then took out a dress. “With
your peachy complexion, this purple one should be perfect.” The
sundress had wide straps, a form-fitting bodice, and a heart-shaped
neckline. The rayon fabric was soft. The purple was rich and warm,
hosting tiny pink and light green flowers in a deep border around
the neckline and the slightly ruffled hem.

“Good choice.” Dorrie slipped it on, and
Chrissy zipped up the back.

“You look stunning!”

Dorrie beamed at her friend and faced the
mirror to fasten an amethyst teardrop pendant. She slipped matching
earrings in her ears and twirled.

“Fabulous! If this guy can resist you, he
must be gay.”

Dorrie giggled then picked up her makeup
bag. “Now for the finishing touches.”

She applied her makeup artfully—eyeliner,
mascara, a touch of blush, and pink lipstick. A dab of her favorite
lilac perfume finished the picture. She strapped black, patent
leather sandals on her feet and picked up a small, black satin
clutch purse.

Joining her friends in the living room, she
requested their critique. “So? What do you think?”

“I think you look gorgeous,” Chrissy
said.

Drake whistled, his cheeks coloring a bit as
his gaze traveled her length. “Guess we shouldn’t wait up for you
tonight, eh?”

“Drake!” She smacked him on the shoulder.
“This is just dinner.”

“Yeah, right. Looking like that? Don’t think
so.”

Dorrie plucked her shawl from the chair as
she headed toward the door. After shooting a smile at Angus, the
doorman, she headed downtown toward La Maison Rouge. It was a warm
evening, but a breeze cooled her enough to make the walk
pleasant.

Dorrie glanced at all the shop windows
displaying a variety of merchandise.
Always so much to see
walking in New York.
She passed displays of the latest fashions
or mouth-watering chocolates nestled in elegant packaging or shoes
in every style and color. Tempted to do some shopping by more than
one store, she reminded herself that time was growing short and so
was her bank account.
Archer hates it when people are
late.

Stepping inside the chic restaurant, the
tempting yet subtle aroma of good food made her stomach rumble.
After giving her name to the maître d’, she was shown to Archer’s
table. As she walked slowly through the dining room, her pulse
kicked up. Nerves made her breath come quickly and a touch of sweat
broke out on her upper lip. She swiped at it with a finger while
her eyes searched for her date.

He stood up as she approached his table. His
caramel-colored hair hadn’t changed. He still wore it slightly
longer on top, where it fell into a perfect, gentle wave, spilling
onto his forehead. She sensed the gaze from his gray eyes caressing
her curves, the way they had when she had modeled for his
company.

He wore an expensive, navy blue suit, the
jacket, cut well, fitted to his slender body. However, the pants
were slightly baggy in a careless way, showing little vanity in the
man.
That’s Archer, no conceit or concern with the latest
fashion.
She chuckled to herself.

The crinkles at the corners of his eyes when
he smiled warmed Dorrie.
Thirty and forty-four isn’t such a big
difference. He’s such a handsome man.
Archer took her hand and
kissed it. The maître d’ pulled out her chair and handed her a
napkin when she was seated.

“Lovely as ever, Dorrie. How are you?”
Archer trained his eyes on hers, after a brief glance at her nicely
displayed cleavage.

“I’m fine. How are you, Archer?”

“Great. Been promoted. Sales are up, and I’m
sure those gorgeous covers with your picture have a great deal to
do with it.”

“Those pictures are five years old.”

“But they were timeless. Dressed in
costumes, we could use your pictures again and again…and so we
have.”

“Undressed, you might say,” she quipped,
then blushed when she realized what she’d said.

“Beautifully undressed, I might add.” He
took her hand and his eyes glittered with a touch of desire.

A small tremor shot through her at his
touch. When she relaxed, his slender, long fingers curled, lightly
capturing hers. Her mind drifted back to the feel of his fingers on
her skin, moving her hair or sliding a dress down slightly to be
off her shoulder.

His hands had given her goose bumps in those
days. He had had her trembling with a simple caress, necessary to
set up the shot. The way his eyes bored into hers or his gaze
caressed her curves had made her hot and left her wanting more. But
that was as far as it ever went. Above all else, Archer Canfield
was a gentleman and a professional. Their relationship had had to
remain business only.

She sighed as the memories danced through
her head. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, bringing her
attention back to the present. The waiter stopped by.

“Still white zinfandel?” Archer asked
her.

She nodded, pleased he remembered. He
ordered a bottle and two glasses.

“No more martinis?”

He blushed. “I had one while waiting for
you.”

“I thought I was on time.”

“Oh, you were. I was early. Needed a little
something to get up my courage, I’m afraid.”

“Is seeing me again that difficult?”

He laughed. “My dear, not at all. Sorry if I
gave you that impression. It’s just that…well, controlling myself.
That’s the rub.”

“Controlling yourself?” Dorrie cocked an
eyebrow at him.

He leaned over and brushed her mouth with
his. “There. Perhaps that’s the best way to break the ice. I
assumed, rather hoped, you wanted to see me for non-professional
reasons?” He chuckled, a bit of color stealing into his cheeks. His
lips were soft and warm. The scent of his aftershave was not too
strong and only slightly sweet. Archer had no scruff, but a
perfectly shaved face.
Too old fashioned for stubble. Too
proper.

Dorrie was speechless. She sensed heat
rising to her face. She’d wanted him to do that quite a few times
before, but it had never been appropriate. She finally found her
voice.

“Personal reasons, you’re right,” she choked
out as the waiter arrived and uncorked the bottle. He poured a bit
for Archer, who tasted and approved it. After the waiter filled
their glasses, they ordered dinner. Dorrie selected steak tips in a
marsala sauce. Archer ordered fish.

“That’s the same dish you ordered five years
ago.”

“Guess they don’t change the menu often. You
have quite a memory.”

“I remember
everything
about you.” He
raised an eyebrow and shot her a lascivious look. Embarrassment
washed over her as she recalled the session she did for the book,
Dishonor with the Duke.
She had been topless for the
pictures. It had been her first time, and she had been shy,
nervous, and embarrassed.

Though the photographer set up the shots,
Archer was there, front and center, even positioning her locks to
hide most of her right breast. She took a swig of her wine to cover
the silence. Her skin tingled with the memory of his fingertips,
touching her ever so lightly, as he rearranged her hair. Longing to
feel his touch again caused her pulse to jump.

Wearing an enigmatic smile, Archer sipped
his zinfandel and stared at her.

“Don’t be embarrassed, my dear. You were the
loveliest model we ever had. Who could forget your innocence and
beauty?”

The warmth of his stare relaxed her.
He
does have feelings for me.
She inched her hand toward his, and
he picked up on it, meeting her fingers with his. They sat locking
looks and giving out small sighs until the waiter arrived with
their food.

Suddenly, Dorrie was ravenous. She tore into
her dinner with a hunger she hadn’t experienced in days. Archer,
too, seemed to be enjoying his meal almost as much as looking at
her. His gaze always ended up at the same place, resting on her
chest.
Does he remember that shoot? Probably not as well as I
do, but maybe.