Cowboy For Hire (43 page)

“Amy,” Charlie said, and couldn’t
continue.

“Charlie,” she said, and seemed to have the
same problem.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Karen huffed. “Kiss
each other!”

Such an outrageous suggestion appeared to jog
Amy out of her trance. Charlie, who thought Karen’s suggestion an
excellent one, knew better than to act upon it. Instead, he walked
to Amy with his hand held out. “It’s really good to see you again,
Amy.”

“Oh, Charlie, I’m so glad to see you again,
too!” She shook his hand warmly, even going to far as to put her
other hand on top of the two clasped ones.

Mightily encouraged, Charlie leaned down a
little. “I’d like to talk to you after the premiere, Amy. Do you
think that’s possible?”

“Oh, yes! I really want to talk to you,
too.”

If those weren’t the sweetest words Charlie
had ever heard, he didn’t know what were.

* * *

Amy felt as if she were living in a dream for
the rest of the evening. The dinner was indubitably delicious,
although she didn’t taste it, and the wine superb. As she ate and
drank, she was conscious only of Charlie, who sat directly across
from her. More than once, she failed to hear a question directed to
her and had to ask the speaker to repeat himself. Charlie, she
noticed, had the same problem.

After this had happened several times, it was
Karen who finally muttered. “Oh, leave them alone. They’re not fit
for company this evening.” She laughed when she said it.

Amy barely heard her. She suspected Charlie
didn’t hear her at all, because he only kept grinning at Amy was if
she were the only other human being in the entire world.

After dinner, the party repaired to the
brand-new, luxurious Bijou Dream Theater, the first and most
extravagant motion picture palace ever built. They rode there in
two huge, luxurious motorcars manufactured by the Benz Company in
Germany. Amy would have been impressed if she hadn’t been so
totally absorbed in Charlie.

They sat together in the motorcar, and when
Charlie’s hand slide across the backseat—under the folds of her
filmy lace wrap, for propriety’s sake—and found Amy’s gloved hand,
she didn’t move her hand but clasped his with fervor. And love. A
great deal of love. Her heart almost overflowed at this indication
that he no longer despised her for her cowardice.

One thing did manage to pry her attention
away from Charlie: the crowds of people lining the street leading
up to the theater. Sure that something alarming, and probably
disastrous, must have happened to have drawn such a throng, she
exclaimed, “Good heavens, what are all those people doing
there?”

“They’re there to see you, my dear,” Martin
said with glee. “They’re fans.”

“Fans?” Amy used a fan occasionally during
the summertime, but had never heard the word used with regard to
people.

“Fans. I think it’s short for fanatic,” Karen
explained. “They’re people who like the pictures.”

“For heaven’s sake.” She and Charlie
exchanged a surprised glance. He smiled first. She’d never been
able to resist one of his charming smiles, and she smiled back. The
crowd roared.

“That’s the way,” Martin said approvingly.
“They love a good show.”

A good show? Another glance at Charlie told
Amy that he didn’t consider it a mere show, either, and she
laughed, suddenly happier than she’d ever been. Feeling expansive,
she turned toward the crowd and waved. They waved back and
cheered.

Six huge spotlights were burning in front of
the theater, their beams crossing in the night sky. More people
crowded around the door of the theater, making it difficult to
maneuver toward it. Fortunately, Martin seemed to have thought of
everything, and he called upon several uniformed policemen to hold
the crowd at bay.

Astonished, Amy walked up a red carpet on
Charlie’s arm, to the cheering of the mob. At the door, as if
they’d been doing it all their lives, the couple turned, waved to
the crowd, and almost caused a riot—although they didn’t know that
until they read the newspapers the next day.

One and Only
was a delightful picture.
Even Amy, who hadn’t cared for very many of the movies she’d seen,
had to admit to its charm.

Horace Huxtable was superb. Although she knew
it was evil of her, Amy wished he weren’t. It was irritating for a
person she detested to show any admirable qualities. But he was a
fine actor, and there was no denying it. She was pleased that the
crowd didn’t seem to miss him. She knew
that
was evil of
her, too.

* * *

It wasn’t until far into the night that she
and Charlie finally had an opportunity to be private together. The
festivities surrounding the premiere of
One and Only
never seemed to end. After the
screening, Martin took his guests to another four-star restaurant,
where they had a light supper and drinks. He evidently hoped the
party would all stay for dancing, but since Aunt Julia and Uncle
Frank were fading fast—they weren`t accustomed to late hours—Amy
pleaded exhaustion, too, and she and Charlie accompanied them back
to the hotel.

Because
reporters seemed to be lurking everywhere, Charlie didn`t dare go
to Amy`s room. Just before he left her at Julia and Frank`s door,
he whispered, “Come to room 410 when you get a chance. All right?”
He looked apprehensive, as if he feared she`d rebel at doing
anything that might be considered scandalous.

But Amy
was past being hampered by society’s strictures or her own
inhibitions—even if they still bothered her. “I’ll be there as soon
as I can,” she assured him.

His smile of
wonder and pleasure buoyed her out of her weariness, and she made
short work of Aunt Julia’s evening gown and chatter. “We can
discuss it all tomorrow,” she said, yawning. “Right now, I have to
get to bed before I fall over.”

Her aunt
accepted Amy’s excuse with equanimity, believing Amy was sure, that
Amy would never, ever do anything untoward. Little did she
know.

Amy visited her
own room first in order to rid herself of her finery, replacing her
smashing evening gown with a plain but pretty white cotton wrapper
with pink embroidery decorating it. She wasn’t going to have
corsets in the way tonight, should things go as she wanted them
to.

She scurried
down the hall and up the stairs to the fourth floor. She peered
around the hall door to check for reporters before she dashed to
room 410. She barely knocked once before the door swung open, and
there stood Charlie in his shirtsleeves, looking eager and nervous
and more handsome than a man had any right to look.

She took one
assessing glance at him, and threw caution to the wind. She loved
him. He loved her. She’d bet her life on that, and the fact that
he’d do everything in his power to help her overcome her
trepidation. And she flung herself into his arms.

His arms closed
around her, and she experienced at long last that delicious feeling
of being cherished. She’d experienced it only once before and had
missed it as if she’d lost one of her senses. “Oh, Charlie, I’ve
missed you so much!”

“And I’ve
missed you.”

They
demonstrated how much they’d missed each other for several minutes
before Charlie pulled away Amy was disappointed.

“We ... we have
to talk.” He loosened his collar, which was not one of the
removable kind but was sewn onto his dress shirt. Beads of
perspiration dotted his brow. Amy could tell he was in a state. So
was she.

“I suppose we
do.” Blast. She didn’t want to talk. Words always seemed to spoil
things. Nevertheless, she knew he was right. No more cowardice. She
had to face these things. “I’m very sorry, Charlie. I allowed my
childhood experiences to interfere with my adult life, and that was
foolish and cowardly of me.”

“Oh, no, Amy.
I’m the one who was wrong. I didn’t take into consideration how
much your early experiences must have scared you.”

“
Nonsense. I was a child then. I’m not a child any
longer—”

“I’ll say.”

Since the
exclamation seemed both heartfelt and involuntary, Amy let it go
with a smile. “But I was wrong to allow my past to interfere with
our future.”

“So ... so do
you think you might not hate marrying me, even if I’m not exactly
established yet? I will be I swear to God I will be, Amy.”

Although
she’d have given anything to prevent it, a stab of fear shot
through her so suddenly that she was momentarily immobilized. She
shook it off. “Yes. I think I might not hate it.” Her fingers
reached for the ribbons at her waist and she began stroking them
nervously. “But—but, Charlie, I can’t help being
afraid.”

“I know it,
honey.”

“
But I’ll
try very hard not to allow my fear to interfere with our life
together—if you still want me.”

His smile was
tenderness itself. “I still want you, Amy. A whole lot.”

“Good.” She
nodded. Terror had begun to gnaw up from her stomach and into her
heart. “In that case ... well, in that case, you’d better hug me
fast, because I’m getting scared again.” She felt like a pure
idiot.

But
Charlie understood, and he made sure Amy knew it. When he had her
securely in his strong arms, he whispered, “Gosh, Amy, don’t ever
be afraid and not tell me. I’ll do anything I can to keep you
safe.” He sat on one of the plush wing chairs flanking the
fireplace—Peerless had spared no money on rooms for its stars—and
held her tightly. “I bought a ranch, sweetheart. Right outside of
Pasadena.”

Amazed, she
pulled slightly away and gazed into his dear, dear eyes. “You
did?”

He nodded.
“Yep. And I planted a bunch of orange trees, too. And I’ve got
stock arriving next week. My brother’s going to help me get
started. I hope you don’t mind about that. But I’ve hired an
architect, and they’re going to start putting up the new house as
soon as the plans are done.”

“Good heavens!”
Amy couldn’t help it. She started to laugh softly. “Oh, Charlie,
did you do all of that for me?”

He grinned at
her. “Well, not exactly. I aim to be a successful rancher, Amy,
with or without you at my side, but I sure as the good Lord hope
it’ll be with you. Because I love you, honey, and it’ll be a whole
lot easier on me if my heart isn’t broken while I work my butt off
to achieve that success.”

“Oh, Charlie. I
love you so much!”

“If that ain’t
music to my ears,” Charlie said in his best cowboy drawl, “I don’t
know what is.” And he kissed her.

This kiss
lasted longer than the other ones of the evening and ended with
them tangled in the covers of Charlie’s bed. He made short work of
the covers—and the sheets, too. And Amy’s wrapper. And his own
evening clothes.

When he plunged
his rigid sex into her hot, wet passage, Amy thought she might just
swoon form sheer pleasure. When he drove her over the edge into
bliss, she did swoon, but only for a moment. She was awake again
when Charlie found his own release and then subsided into her
welcoming arms.

“I’m so happy,
Charlie.”

“So’m I,
sweetheart.”

They
dozed off under the influence of their happiness, and only awoke
when passion aroused them in the early morning. They didn’t open
their eyes again until somebody knocked at Charlie’s door toward
noon. Charlie popped up in bed, suddenly worried for Amy’s
reputation.

“Who is it?” he
called.

“It’s Martin,
Charlie. You all right? You didn’t come down for breakfast.”

Shoot. Although
he was fuddled from lack of sleep and sexual fulfillment, Charlie
thought fast. “Er ... I’m fine, Martin. I’m just not used to these
hours. I slept late.”

“All right.
Say, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Amy, have you? Nobody can seem to
rouse her. I’m thinking of getting a maid with a key.”

This
comment brought Amy out from under the covers, too. Charlie glanced
at her and grinned. His prim and proper Amy didn’t look too prim
and proper this morning, all naked and tousled and flushed from
good loving. She yanked on his shoulder and whispered,
“No!”

Still
grinning, Charlie said, “Don’t do that, Martin. I talked to her
last night and ... and she said she was go to sleep until noon.” He
lifted an eyebrow in question at Amy. She
smiled gratefully and nodded.

After a
significant pause, Martin said, “I see. All right. I’ll wait until
noon. We’ve got an appointment with the press at one. Um, if you
see her, you might remind her.”

“
Shoot,
that’s right. I almost forgot. Okay, Martin. I’ll tell her. If I
see her,” Charlie added quickly.

“Right. If you
see her.” Martin walked away.

“I think he’s
laughing,” Amy said uneasily.

“Don’t worry
about Martin, darlin’. We have to worry about getting you
downstairs without anybody seeing you.”

They managed.
With some of the acting expertise they’d learned in the last few
months and some of Charlie’s clothes, they managed And they had an
interesting announcement for the press when they all met at one
o’clock for lunch and interviews.

The press
was pleased. Karen was ecstatic. Martin was happy. Aunt Julia and
Uncle Frank were tickled pink. Amy and Charlie’s fans were
delighted and wrote by the hundreds to tell the happy couple
so.

Horace
Huxtable, sourly slogging through the filming of a
beachcomber-native-maiden picture on a remote island in the South
Seas, was as bitter as might be expected when he heard the
news.

* * *

Amy adored life
on the ranch. Even before the main house was finished, she’d
settled in. She adored her husband, too, and thought his younger
brother, who blushed and stammered every time he saw her, was a
darling. In truth, she had to face very few hardships, thanks to
Charlie’s good business sense, brilliant management, and ample
capitalization of his ranching project.