Third Half (39 page)

             
Slowly stepping from the huge car she approached her
building, dreading the evening ahead.  Everyone at Martin's cast party
would expect her to be filled with excitement and delight.  But she
knew it would take even more acting than she had done on the stage
that evening, to give them that impression.

             
"Hello, Miss Spencer," the security guard said as he saw her
approach.  "How did you do?"

             
"I think even the critics loved us."  She smiled at the man. 
"Did my guests arrive?"

             
"Yes.  He said he had a key, so I left him through a while ago."

             
"Thanks, Leo."  She turned and went inside the building.

             
She had to ring the bell and wait for them to let her inside. 
When the door opened she headed straight for the sofa, throwing her
knit shawl onto a chair as she passed. 

             
"I'm glad that's over with," she said with a long sigh.  "Now all
I have to worry about is the rest of the evening.  I'm glad you'll be
with me."  She turned to stare at the man in the center of the room.

             
Though he had shaved his beard and exchanged his flight
jacket for a tuxedo, she knew immediately who he was.  "Marsh!" 
Her green eyes were wide with disbelief.  "How did you get in here?"

             
As he walked toward her, she saw that he was leaning heavily
on a cane.  "Your leg.  How is it?  Jack said you were doing better." 
Her concern was obvious as she looked up at him.

             
"I've had to make quite a few adjustments."  He laughed dryly. 
"The second bullet nearly killed me, but it was the first one that killed
my career with the government."

             
She bit her lip.  "I'm sorry.  I know how good you were at it."

             
"I can still fly.  I'm good at that too."  He shrugged.

             
Again taking in his full appearance she looked puzzled. 
"Were you at the theater tonight?"

             
"Yes."

             
"But why?"

             
"You could say I was curious."

             
"Curious?  About what?"

             
"I wanted to know if you're always such a good actress."  He
stared at her intently.  "Or is it that you just play certain roles better
than others?"

             
"I thought you understood why I dressed as my sister," she said
knowing the implication of his words.

             
"Now I do.  But I only just found out it was a role you were
playing . . .And a very good one, I might add.  I suppose I should have
guessed.  There were plenty of signs."

             
"Signs?" she repeated. 

             
Marsh shook his head with a frown.  "I never would have
thought a nun would go out of her way to enjoy a scented bubble bath. 
Or wear very sexy undergarments beneath her habit.  Or . . ."

             
"Never mind." She held up her hand to stop him.  "I get the
idea."

             
"It wasn't until I took a good look at the real Mary Catherine
that I finally knew she wasn't you.  Or should I say you weren't her?"

             
"I should have told you it was an act."

             
"Yes, you should have, Liane.  But was it all acting?"  he
asked, coming closer.  "That's what I came here to find out."

             
She tried to look away, but he grabbed her and turned her to
face him.  Their eyes locked a moment before he slowly lowered his
lips to hers.  The passion that flared was impossible to hide and Liane
felt empty when he finally pulled away.

             
"Was that acting too, Liane?  If it was, you should get an
award."

             
"No.  But does it matter?"

             
"Yes, very much."  He smiled, erasing the tried lines from his
face. "I wouldn't want you to be acting when you become my wife. 
That is, if you will marry me."

             
"Marry you?"  She frowned and shook her head.  "No, not
after everything I've done."

             
"Done!  What have you done besides make me want you with
every ounce of my being.  Make me need you to feel whole.  Make me
fall in love with you?"

             
The depth of emotion in his voice rocked her.  "You're in love
with me?" she asked dumbly.

             
Slowly he smiled.  "Yes.  Maybe it was the first moment I saw
you.  Maybe it was later.  But I fell in love with you.  I fought those
feelings because of whom I was, and whom I thought you were.  But I
lost. 

             
"I wanted you so badly it was eating me up inside.  With only
time to think while I laid in that hospital it had built up to such an
extent, I'm afraid, I said a lot of terrible things when I thought I was
finally saying them to you."

             
Liane felt tears sting her eyes as she looked up at the man she
loved.  "But then you found out it was the real Mary Catherine.  I'm
sorry you learned that way."

             
"I'm not,"  Marsh smiled.  "I got all that anger out of my
system and she seemed very understanding about it after we finally
figured out what was going on."

             
"Yes," Liane said suddenly.

             
"Yes, what?"

             
"Yes, I'll marry you.  I love you too."

             
"What about your career?"

             
"My career doesn't mean nearly as much to me as what I once
thought it did.  When I thought I lost you, and returned to this, I
realized it had little meaning."

             
"If you get bored there are plenty of theaters in Los Angeles."

             
"Bored?"  Suddenly Liane laughed.  "After what we've been
through together I'd welcome a little boredom.  Besides I know some
parts of our lives could never be boring."

             
Marsh pulled her back into his arms, all the love showing in
his brown eyes as he looked down into her face.  "When can we start
sharing those times."

             
"As soon as we go to the cast party and make Tina Berry's
day."

             
Marsh looked puzzled.

             
"She's my understudy.  The only other person who knows my
part, much to Martin Sloane's displeasure.  But he'll get over it."

             
"Will he mind very much about you leaving?"

             
"Not half as much as I would mind spending another minute
away from you.   Besides, he's got a hit on his hands, no matter who's
playing the leading role."

             
"Then we have something in common," Marsh said with a
wide grin.  "Because I know I have a hit on my hands.  The difference
is only you can be my leading lady."