Authors: Beth Hale
Jack shook his head. “Norah’s filming scenes
with Roger, now that he’s back from Whales. I’ve a
few more days off.”
“Ahh. When do you leave for Germany?”
“Five days, if everything stays on schedule. I’ll be gone almost two weeks.” He forked casserole, washed it down with beer. “I should stop by and see Glenda before I go.”
“You really should. Mum says it’s been a while since she’s seen your face.”
“I’ve been rather busy. And, now, I have to decide what I want to do next.” He pointed with his fork towards the stack of papers.
James slid them over and looked. “Well. Another movie offer. Oh, shooting in Canada.”
“And set to begin only a week after
She-Wolf
wraps.”
“Hmm…” James flipped through the papers. “
An Ideal Husband
. Back to the theater stage.”
“Yes. If I accept I’ll play the lead male role of Sir Robert.”
“Lead is nice.”
“Yes,” he said again as he stood to get them both another beer. “It’s also here in London, which means Alison doesn’t have to be completely away from the baby just yet.”
“When would you have to begin working on that?”
“Six weeks after wrap up.”
“That gives you a good breather.” James looked up, looked at Jack. “You’re leaning towards the play.”
“I am; it seems the best option.” He piled the dishes into the sink and they went back to switch on the TV. They both sprawled in the floor, their backs against the sofa.
“Why?”
“As I’ve said, for Alison and the time frame. You know theater has always been my first love. The movie is coming along nicely, but I miss the thrill of being on stage. Yes,” he suddenly, firmly decided. “I’ll tell my agent tomorrow.
An Ideal Husband
it is.”
“Good deal, then.” James clinked his bottle against Jack’s. “I’ll be there opening night as usual.” He guzzled beer, belched. “Been a while,” he commented, “since we’ve had an evening to ourselves.”
Jack polished off his beer and sat the bottle aside. “Missed me, have you, darling?” He grinned.
“Not in the least, you ass,” James grinned back. “And when you’re gone to Germany, I’ll not miss you again. I’ll be sure and take care of the lovely Emma so she won’t miss you either.”
“That’s impossible,” he replied easily. “She’s mad for me.”
“She’s mad, all right, for being with you. When is she set to leave?”
Jack started and stared. “Leave?”
“You know. When will Norah’s part of the film be over, when will they leave?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head, looked around and back at James. “I don’t know,” he repeated. Why was his chest beginning to hurt? “I—we—haven’t discussed that.”
James raised his brows. “Are you OK, mate? You look…suddenly pale,” he decided, “and shaky.”
“It—I hadn’t thought of her leaving, going back home.”
“Well, then.” James studied Jack’s face and took in the glazed eyes, the slightly shocked expression. “You love her!” he exclaimed suddenly.
“What? What?”
“You love her,” he said again, slowly, as if talking to a child. He took some perverse pleasure at the rising panic on his friend’s face.
“I don’t…” Jack trailed off, closed his eyes. Hadn’t he been thinking the same thing, he asked himself, only days before?
He fell back, flat on the carpet, and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, hell. I do.”
James stretched out beside him. “You do,” he confirmed. “Is it a problem?”
“It’s difficult. Not difficult to care for her, or to want her. But, love…we both know how that ended last time.”
“Emma is nothing like Sarah. Thank God.”
“Emma is still a bit tender from her past, as well.” He turned, propped up on his elbow.
“Jack. I’ve seen you two together. She may be tender, but I’m willing to bet she loves you back.”
“Are you?”
“I wouldn’t be wrong. Why don’t you take her somewhere after wrap up? A little holiday, and talk things through?”
Jack slowly nodded. “That’s a great plan. I will, as soon as possible.”
“Brilliant! Now, be a good host. Go fetch us another beer and some chips. We’ll watch the rest of the boxing match and tell dirty stories.
Chapter 19
Emma, and Norah, finally had days free from filming. Norah had a few interviews and photo shoots lined up. Emma would be mostly able to do as she pleased. She would be scouring London, visiting the tourist spots again, and roaming the rest of the city that had always captivated her.
But first, she thought as she placed clothes in a small bag, she was going to give Jack a proper sendoff. Her smile was feline as she tossed the black nightie in on top.
“Hot date?” Norah leaned against the door jam, her blond hair gathered into a stubby tail at her neck.
“You bet. Jack leaves for Germany day after tomorrow. I’m cooking for him tonight, and I’ll be sleeping over there.”
“Probably won’t be much sleeping.”
“I hope not.” They shared a quick, female look. “I plan on serving him a wonderful leg of lamb. With me for desert.” She lifted the nightie out of the bag.
Norah chuckled. “I approve whole-heartedly.”
“I haven’t forgotten about you. There’s a cold pasta salad and some lentil soup in the kitchen.” Emma threw a toothbrush and a hairdryer into the bag and zipped it up.
“Many thanks for that. What time do I have to meet with the person from
Glamour
tomorrow?”
“Interview’s scheduled at eight. I’ll be back
before then, to make sure everything’s in order.” She
looked at her watch. “But I really should be going now.
I have to go to the store; Jack says he has practically
nothing in his pantry. If I’ve timed it right, the lamb
will be done just about the time he gets home.”
“He’s not there now?”
“No, he’s hammering out details for his next project.” She hefted her bag and they went downstairs.
“I did that earlier today. I’ve committed to being the jilted wife.”
“Wonderful. That’ll be a good movie.”
“We start two weeks after finishing here. How will you get into the house?” Norah wondered.
Emma dug into her small purse and pulled out a key. “With this. He gave it to me when I cleared dinner with him.”
Norah cocked her head. “He gave you a key to his house. Does this mean what I think it means? Did you have that talk with him?”
“No,” Emma hedged. At the patient stare, she reddened and shifted her feet. “We’ve been so busy. I’m planning to. Really. After Germany.”
“Umm-hmm.”
“I will,” she said again. The cab she’d called pulled up and she wrenched the door open with a sigh of relief. “See you tomorrow,” she tossed over her shoulder.
***
Emma unloaded her shopping bags. She set the oven to preheat and set about slicing and chopping. She rubbed the lamb with garlic and herbs, seasoned it with salt and pepper. She sprinkled a small palm full rosemary on top and slid it into the oven.
She had, by her calculation, just under two hours to set it all up. The lamb would be done by then and Jack would be home.
She dug around and found deep blue plates in a cabinet. A look in another yielded wine glasses and a bowl suitable enough for the salad of field greens she’d planned. She located the silverware and napkins, and carried it all to the small table in the dining room.
She’d already covered the table with a white cloth. Now, she placed a square vase filled with blood-red roses in the center and added a trio of short, squat candles before laying the place settings.
Emma swung back into the kitchen and bundled her hair into a messy bun. It was time for serious food prep; time was counting down. She turned her iPod to shuffle and began tapping her bare feet and humming along to the tune of
I’m a Believer
. She set fingerling potatoes to boil and opened the wine so it could breathe.
She tossed the salad, made a quick raspberry vinaigrette to pour over it. She drained potatoes, added rosemary and parsley.
Jack stood in the doorway and watched her as she bent to retrieve the lamb from the oven. The bright pink shirt she wore didn’t quite cover the tight butt encased in snug black yoga pants. Her toes were topped with the same shade of pink as the shirt.
She made a pretty picture. One, he mused, he wouldn’t mind seeing a lot in his kitchen.
“Hello,” he greeted her.
She turned, smiled when she saw he’d already loosened the red tie he wore. “You’re a little early, but that’s ok. It’s almost ready; the meat has to rest a bit.” She brushed back a tendril of hair that had escaped the bun.
“Emma.” She looked so damn lovely, so damn
right standing in his kitchen with the heat of cooking
pinking her cheeks. “This is perfect.”
Her eyes melted and she poured two glasses of Chardonnay. She handed him one and lightly tapped it with her own. “I agree. To a perfect evening.”
Jack glanced at her iPod as
Fade to Black
ended and
Let’s Fall to Pieces Together
took its place. “I’ve never heard this song.”
“George Strait, old country music.” Emma shrugged and grinned. “You can take the girl outta the south, I guess, but…”
He laughed softly. “I like it,” he decided. “Dance with me.”
She went willingly into his arms and they swayed slowly with the song. Emma put her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. Sandalwood and male. She closed her eyes and knew she’d give just about anything to make the moment last forever.
When the song ended, Jack pulled away a bit and tilted her face up. His lips brushed over hers once, twice and when he moved to take it deeper she placed a hand on his chest.
“Not now, not yet,” she told him with a little laugh. “I worked too hard to let the food go cold before we eat.”
“It smells divine.”
“It’ll taste even better.” She led him to the table. “Sit. I’ll serve you and you can tell me about your next project while we eat.”
Chapter 20
“Oh, you’ll be a great Sir Robert. I’ve always enjoyed Oscar Wilde.”