Excerpt is copyright © 2003 by Marilyn Jaye Lewis

Published by Magic Carpet Books, spring 2003

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

Chapter 13

True to his word, Evan left Dorianne alone in her room. He gave her the space he’d promised even while he would have preferred spending the night with her in the same bed.

“Are you sure you want to go back to your own room?” she’d said, when they’d exhausted themselves with sex, with food.

“That’s what we agreed on,” Evan had answered. “I want this arrangement to work for both of us, Dory.”

So they each slept in their own rooms, alone in their own king-sized beds. Dorianne had a fitful sleep, wondering why he had said it--that he loved her. Wondering why she was so reluctant to believe him.

And Evan barely slept a wink.He argued with himself. Why had he said it? Why had he told Dorianne he loved her when he’d only known this woman a handful of days? Worse yet, why had she completely ignored him?

She was a hard woman to figure out. She seemed hopelessly romantic and yet hard as nails at the same time.

Evan left his bed and sat on his terrace in a tee shirt and a pair of jeans. He smoked cigarettes. Then he wandered the house aimlessly--a thing he hadn’t done since his mother had died. He didn’t bother to turn on any lights. Through the French doors in the living room, he drifted outside to sit by the pool. In the darkness, he looked up at Dorianne’s terrace and it was as if she were standing there. He thought he could see her looking down at him, wearing a gown of white. He lit another cigarette and stared up at the apparition while he smoked.

But it was no apparition. Dorianne stood on her terrace, wearing a white cotton night gown. She looked down over the dark garden, the surrounding grounds, and it looked to her as if someone were sitting down by the swimming pool. It spooked her. A chill shot through her heart. When a match was lit, she saw that it was Evan.

He can’t sleep, either, she thought.

She toyed with the idea of going down to the pool to sit by him, to talk it out. But maybe they needed this space and Dorianne wasn’t sure she felt like talking.

The thought of revealing herself to Evan, of admitting to him that she was in love, too, that she didn’t care if she ever saw New York again, that she wanted to stay here in Hollywood and live with him indefinitely. The thought of being so candid only to learn that he hadn’t meant it, or that to him, being in love was a frequent and transitory state of mind, made her stomach clench.

But it’s okay to lose at love, she reminded herself as she watched him smoking in the dark. It’s okay to fall in love alone. The important thing is to love, no matter how brief. To not be afraid. To be vulnerable. To be honest, human.

But he was too famous. Falling for a man like Evan Crane was a common and ordinary thing for a woman to do. And Dorianne had never considered herself common or ordinary.

This is my ego talking, she realized. These are my control issues again. What is my problem? Why can’t I just let go?

With a start, Evan saw the apparition in white move slightly and he realized Dorianne was really up there. He wondered if she was watching him, if she could see him sitting down below her by the pool.

She can’t sleep, either, he thought.

He took it as a promising sign.

But maybe she couldn’t sleep for other reasons. Maybe it was Kent Cryer causing Dorianne to lose sleep. It could have been a number of things that had dragged her from bed out into the night air. She had a lot on her mind right now.

Evan wanted to go to her. Or at the very least, call out to her and ask her to join him. But maybe they needed space. He wasn’t sure what he would say anyway.

I love you, he could say.

But he’d already tried that and it had yielded less than stunning results.

He thought about Maui. He pictured Dorianne standing on the terrace of his house there, overlooking the ocean at night, the black rocks, the endless sea. He had once seen Lisa in a similar pose at the house on Maui; solitary, reflective. Staring off into the night. So feminine, so pretty. Like Dorianne. But Dorianne was a strong and determined woman. Nothing like Lisa Wilson. Lisa could have been lifted off the balcony in a strong wind and gone sailing off into the magnificent sunset, never to be seen again. And in a way--that Hollywood way--that’s just what had happened to Lisa Wilson. The pressures of being so famous so soon, had swept her into a world of insecurities and bad judgment that had devoured everything that had been beautiful about her.

A thing like that wouldn’t happen to Dorianne Constance. Evan could tell. Even in the dark, watching her from a distance, he thought he could see the strength in her. The steadfastness. The hard-headedness. A woman like Dorianne was only going to grow more insightful and level-headed with time. No mere wind was ever likely to carry her off. A tsunami could break over a woman like Dorianne Constance and she’d find a way to still be standing when the waves washed back out to sea.

And she would be wearing a perfect little black dress, Evan thought with a smile. Her handbag would match her shoes and every hair on her head would be in place.

She was the kind of woman he’d dreamed about having for a partner, a wife. Until now, Evan hadn’t realized that God had actually made a woman like her. He had begun to think she was only a fantasy. Yet here she was.

In my house, Evan thought.

He stubbed out his cigarette. He was going to do whatever it took to keep her in his house. He wanted her for all time and he was going to find the right moment to tell her.

When he looked back up at her terrace, though, the apparition in white was gone.

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Excerpt is copyright © 2003 by Marilyn Jaye Lewis & Magic Carpet Books

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