Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (20 page)

She felt his gaze on her now, even at this distance. His blue eyes had the power to delve into her very soul, and she didn’t need that at this moment. She was relieved when Chalmers called out another woman’s name and she could concentrate on the scene and, she hoped, forget Reese.

The next three women weren’t much better than the first. The fifth one, however, brought some conviction to the role, breathing the same kind of life into her lines that Charley brought to hers. She stole a glance at the director and saw him nodding to his assistant.

“Okay . . . uh, Doris,” Chalmers said. “You’ve got the part of Lena.”

Charley was sure that Doris was going to faint dead away. The woman’s enthusiasm radiated to all corners of the stage, filtering down to where Chalmers sat in judgment. Must be nice to be that enthusiastic about acting, Charley thought, smiling politely in response to the thanks Doris was heaping on her. Charley was sure that Doris was not beyond thanking the curtain for being there.

Chalmers looked bored by it all, even though Charley was sure he expected such gratitude and would have been highly put out if Doris had muttered a polite thank you after being awarded the part. “Okay,” he said, rising, “we’ll take a break before auditioning the next part . . . um, Charlotte.” His tone dismissed her.

“Charley. Her name’s Charley.”

Charley whirled around, her pulse skipping a beat. Reese was walking across the stage toward her. She felt the old rush take hold of her. Dammit, she thought. She was twenty-eight years old and had run the risk of being shot in the line of duty. Why were the tips of her ears growing hot at the sight of an old boyfriend?

Because he was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen, her mind taunted. Because she had wanted to marry him at one time, and now she couldn’t help thinking that if she had, she would be experiencing that glow within her on a daily basis.

“Doesn’t look like a Charlie,” Chalmers said, disrupting her romantic musings.

“She doesn’t look like a lot of things,” Reese said.

It was plain to Charley that the comment was meant for her alone, and again she felt the terrible pain she had suffered when she had left him a year ago. When the FBI had accepted her, she had gone to them. She had told herself she wanted to sample the kind of life the Bureau offered. She had told herself she couldn’t resist the lure of adventure. But now, staring into Reese’s crystal-blue eyes, she wondered if there wasn’t something else behind her decision, something she hesitated to examine too closely.

“Hello, Charley,” he said.

“Hello, Reese.” Her voice was soft, despite her resolve to keep it businesslike. She was supposed to sound friendly, but distant. Letting any of the old feelings come out would be a mistake in more ways than one.

For a moment, a long moment, his beautiful eyes stared at her, stirring feelings inside of her that were best laid to rest. Absence hadn’t taken the edge off her reaction to him. If anything, it had sharpened it. He seemed even better-looking. Was that possible? Did God improve on perfection? There was a line or two about his mouth that gave him a new intensity, as though he had experienced deep emotions in the year they’d been apart.

She wondered if anyone in the FBI appreciated her sacrifice. Probably not. Charley felt a pang that went down to the tips of her toes.

“You haven’t changed any,” he said.

The words sounded just a bit harsh, accusing. He was glad to see her, she could tell, but under that gladness was the pain she had caused him when she’d left. A tiny, selfish part of her was happy. He had missed her too.

“Oh, there are little changes if you look hard enough,” she said flippantly. Did he hear how loudly her heart was beating? She wondered. Some undercover agent she was. The only “undercover” work she was thinking of had nothing to do with her present assignment.

“I’d like to find them,” Reese said.

Fireworks shot off in her veins as she realized that he sounded as if he hoped the changes were the kind that weren’t readily seen by passersby.

“Professional secrets,” she said with a half smile.

“If you two are finished with old home week,” the director snapped, “I’d like to have the stage cleared for a moment. Hustle your girlfriend over to the wings and do your drooling there,” Chalmers instructed, waving them away.

Reese slipped an arm about Charley’s shoulders, ushering her off to the place where she had first spied him.

“That man is unbelievable,” she said, nodding toward the director.

“So are you,” Reese said, bringing her to where the heavy curtain met the wall. As he stood facing her, she told herself that she shouldn’t be there. Her place was on the other side of the stage, keeping an eye on the woman she’d been assigned to watch. But all Charley could do was gaze helplessly at Reese. Standing before him, with the curtain on two sides of her and the wall to her right, she felt as if, for one magical moment, they were cut off from the entire world. If they were, if they were the last two people on earth, she knew exactly what she would do. She’d grab him and hold on for dear life.

But they weren’t the last two people on earth. They weren’t even the last two people on the stage, and she had her duty. And he had— what?

“What are you doing here, Reese?” she asked, wishing that his casual touch didn’t affect her so. Having his arm around her shoulders only made her ache to have him touch her the way he had in the old days.

“Working,” he said casually.

“Oh?” The word sounded hollow. “Have you tried out yet? Of course you have,” she corrected herself hurriedly, remembering that the male roles had already been cast. “The director knows you. I wouldn’t think the lead was right for you, but...” She was babbling. She hadn’t babbled since the last time she had been with him. Not like this. She felt like an idiot. With iron will, she forced herself to stop the flow of words and look at Reese expectantly. Let him talk. She had to regroup.

“You don’t usually try out to be the stage manager,” he said with a touch of humor, his eyes drinking her in the way a desert flower absorbs a brief rain shower.

“Stage manager?” she echoed, confused. He had been an aspiring actor when she’d known him. What had happened?

“They eat more regularly,” he said, a trace of a smile curling the sensuous line of his mouth. She wanted to reach out and touch his lips with her fingertips. It was over. Had been for a year. What was she doing to herself?

“I always thought you had star potential,” she said.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sometimes what we have planned for ourselves doesn’t work, no matter how hard we try.”

He wasn’t talking about his career. She knew that. If he had wanted to succeed at his acting, he would have eventually. Faces like Reese’s were not a dime a dozen. They weren’t even a thousand dollars a dozen. He was the stuff that dreams were made of: handsome, sensitive, and charming. And he had a brain. No empty-headed pretty boy he. And once, he had been all hers. She swallowed. Her sense of regret was so strong, she feared she might give herself away.

“You don’t seem to have done much in the last year either,” he said. “You haven’t even been working in New York, have you?”

Small talk, she thought. They were making small talk. Once upon a time they could just sit together for hours, watching pigeons land on the fire escape outside his studio apartment and listening to their hearts beat rhythmically together. There had been no discomfort then.

“I’ve worked for some very good regional theaters,” she said. “Being a big star doesn’t interest me.” And it didn’t. Fame had never been her goal. Excitement was what she craved. Well, she was getting it in spades right now, and it wasn’t the type the Bureau approved of. This assignment wasn’t going to be easy.

Reese ran a strong finger from her temple to the point of her chin, and Charley strove hard not to shiver. “Idealistic, hmm?” he said.

“That’s a very cold-sounding word,” she protested, wanting to pull back her head and finding her neck wouldn’t obey her command.

“Nothing cold about you, as I remember,” he said. His breath touched her cheeks, and she lowered her lashes as if they were guards protecting against a sensual attack.

“I think I had better be getting back,” she said. She hoped he wouldn’t ask why. She didn’t know why. She just knew she had to get out of this curtained area, away from him. He was dulling her mind and turning her knees to water. An FBI agent with watery knees was a liability to everyone—most of all to herself.

But Reese wasn’t about to let her get away so easily. “Chalmers won’t be needing you for at least another ten minutes. There’s no hurry,” he assured her in the same sultry voice he had used when he called her back to bed for a few more stolen moments of love before rushing off to a performance.

“Oh, yes, there is,” she insisted, stepping forward. She was supposed to be on the alert. She was on a case and had been assigned the duty of keeping her eye on a woman named Allison Peters, who was at the center of this little hurricane.

She had a mission, dammit. She didn’t have time for racing blood or pounding temples. She didn’t have time to wander down memory lane with a palpitating heart. She—

Reese leaned forward as she tried to pass him, and took her into his arms.

Oh, no, not that
! she thought in despair. As long as he didn’t hold her, she could still struggle to remain immune to his overwhelming charm.

But it was too late. Amidst the dusty, deep velvet folds of the concealing curtain, Reese kissed her.

Chapter Two

If Helen of Troy possessed a face that launched a thousand ships, then Reese possessed a kiss that could sink a thousand ships—or at least a thousand good intentions. Charley didn’t want this kiss. She struggled. She lost.

It was all well and good to walk off and pretend that she wasn’t affected by Reese McDaniel, by his dark, smoldering good looks, or by his tender manner. But as soon as his mouth touched hers, all her carefully fabricated lies went down the drain. She felt a magnetic pull capture her body, and though she fought it, she had no more hope of escaping than a tiny metal shaving had of escaping a giant magnet. The shaving clung to the magnet.
 

Charley’s fingers turned traitor. Instead of pushing away the source of her dilemma, they wound themselves into his silky, shining black hair. She loved the feel of him. Any part of him. She should have worn armor, she thought. But with her luck, Reese would have had a can opener.

He was the one who finally ended their kiss. She would have let it go on forever.

“There’s no one else, is there?” he asked, his voice soft but certain.

She allowed herself a smile. “That’s a new twist to fortune-telling. Usually it’s done by reading tea leaves. You read lips?” She was trying hard to keep it light.

“Is there someone?” he asked, running his hand along her jaw.

Part of her desperately wanted simply to stand there and rub her face against his palm as if she were a cat rubbing against her master’s hand. But with a tremendous surge of willpower, she jerked her head back.

“You really should take up fortune-telling,” she said brightly, her heart pounding. She could see by the look in his eyes that he was waiting for an answer to his question. “Just my work,” she replied, hoping the words sounded cheerful.

No, she thought, there hadn’t been anyone since Reese. Who in heaven’s name could have compared with him? It would have been like Cinderella settling for the pumpkin after dancing with the prince. Besides, she really had been busy with her work.

She averted her gaze, afraid that he might be able to read her thoughts. If he could tell just by kissing her that she hadn’t loved anyone else, what could he discover by looking into her eyes?

“Your work,” he echoed. “As I recall, it was your work that separated us last time.”

Was that bitterness she heard in his voice? Had he ached over their parting as much as she had? Oh, if he only knew the half of it. But FBI agents didn’t stand around on street corners broadcasting their identities. The system didn’t work that way.

“Let’s not dwell on the past,” she said crisply, linking her arm with his. A tingle went through her. His arm was as firm and well-muscled as before. She drew him out of the wings, out of the intimate atmosphere created by the folds of the curtain.

“Why?” he asked. “Have we got a future instead?”

“There’s the present,” she said. “That’s enough.” Did that sound as blasé as she meant it to sound? She stole a glance at his profile.

“Reese,” someone called out behind them. “I need your help!”

Charley was tempted to turn around and mutter, “Thank you,” as Reese reluctantly withdrew from her side.

“Later,” he said meaningfully to her.

“Much later,” she murmured to herself.

She didn’t have time to think about him. Not now. She had wasted too much time as it was. Her assignment was to keep an eye on Allison during rehearsals, and to locate Allison’s enemy contact, who was probably a member of the cast or crew. Once the operative had been identified, another FBI agent could be assigned to tail him—or her.

Charley sighed as she studied the small group of blond actresses still backstage. For a moment she wished that foreign agents fit their stereotyped images: dour expression, stocky build, small, mean eyes. Was one of the actresses the spy she was looking for? Or were they all just what they appeared to be, hopefuls in search of a part? A momentary pang of nostalgia struck her. She missed the innocence of a time when everyday occurrences were not examined for hidden meanings. A time when she did not have to be constantly suspicious, constantly alert.

She had no one to blame but herself, she thought, suppressing a sigh. Maybe the work was getting to her. Usually the excitement of her assignments stimulated her, but this afternoon she just felt irritable.

She was simply tired, she told herself as she tried to mingle unobtrusively with the other women. One statuesque blonde with ice-blue eyes was looking at her accusingly.

“Oh, you’re the one who got the part ‘privately,’ “ the woman said. There was no missing her implication. “Thinking of lording it over the rest of us?”