“A bagel would be great, and coffee. Black. Thanks.”
She nodded and rushed out of the room, happy to put space between them. He fogged her mind. She needed clarity and control while on stage. And off.
Phoebe toasted their bagels and made his coffee, inhaling the aroma because she couldn’t have any before a show. Caffeine tightened vocal chords and hindered voice range, so she opted for decaffeinated tea. She was sitting at her island adding lemon to her tea when he entered the kitchen wearing nothing but his pants.
Damn. Dead-sexy.
Bare feet. Bare chested. Mouthwatering hot.
“Can I help?” he asked, stepping close.
She cleared her dry throat. “You’re just in time to eat.” She nodded toward his bagel and coffee…way on the other side from her.
“Thanks, but you didn’t need to wait on me, Phoebe.”
“I know, but you’re my guest, and I’m happy to do it.”
He nodded, and together they finished their quick breakfast discussing a safe subject—Mets pitching. A love they had in common, she’d discovered after an offhand comment at dinner last night.
But it was time to go. She carried her dishes to the sink, then turned to find he’d followed with his.
In an attempt to keep things on the right track, she held out her hand after he’d set his dishes down. “Have a safe trip home, Ethan.”
He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought her knuckles to his lips. “Thanks,” he said, then released her. “Good luck with your shows.”
She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “You need to take that back.”
He frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Take that back. You need to tell me to break a leg.” She wasn’t a hugely superstitious person, but she never took a chance when it came to performing. “Wishing a performer good luck is bad luck.”
“Oh, sorry. Break a leg.”
She smiled, then nodded toward her bedroom. “You don’t have to rush out. Feel free to take a shower. You know where everything is.” Because they’d shared a shower which had led to round three. Her pulse fluttered at the memory. Lea was right. Against the wall sex was amazing.
Well, in her case, against the shower tile sex.
“Okay. Make sure you take your key, because I’ll be locking your door behind me.”
Ah, the concerned worrier was back.
She lifted her purse from the back of the chair where she’d set it last night. “Got them in here. I’m good to go.”
And she’d better go. She’d been dilly-dallying too long.
He stepped close to lightly touch her cheek with his knuckle. “Thanks for having me over.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, telling herself to say goodbye and head for the door. “I never had anyone over before.”
Damn. Her tongue wasn’t listening.
Now his thumb brushed her jaw. “No one’s ever been here?”
“I mean, I never had a guy over for a night of…you know…”
Shut up, Phoebe. Just shut up.
He smiled. “Sex.”
“Yes, that. And it won’t happen again. You’re the exception.” And exceptional. He ruined it on her for other men. Men outside of a relationship. No other one-night-stand would be as sweet and amazing in bed. She’d taken a chance on him because her friends trusted him, and she’d gotten lucky. No way would she tempt fate twice. “It’s not my thing.”
“Then I’m honored.”
And she was babbling. And late. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d do something stupid like invite him to look her up the next time he was in town. Not smart. Sex with the guy could easily become addicting. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine rearranging her schedule to fit in rendezvous with him. But, she had a set plan. An agenda for her career, which didn’t include children right now. And he had one. Her lifestyle was too unpredictable, too unstable, not something he’d want for his son. And she would never blame him. So, there was no sense in starting something she’d never finish. Best to leave things where they were. A fantastic memory.
She stepped back and broke his touch. “Give my regards to the others, and have a safe trip.”
“Will do.” He nodded, knowing look in his eyes telling her he was on the same page. Their intimate time was over. He straightened and nodded. “Break a leg, Phoebe Weston.”
She returned the nod and rushed out the door. Much safer than breaking her rules, or worse.
Chapter Five
Three weeks into May, on the morning of the final show of her Broadway play, Phoebe enjoyed the warmth of the sun as she strolled around a street vendor fair, excited for her next find. Handmade jewelry, paintings, clothes, she never failed to discover something amazing and unique from the talented people in the city. Perhaps she’d find a wedding present for Lea and Ben.
She walked past tables of purses, hats, and scarves she didn’t need, and by the sports memorabilia table. The blue and orange colors of her favorite baseball team brought back memories of her hot night with a certain fellow fan. As did the table of camping and outdoor equipment with their pocket knife collection. She’d found a black one on her bedroom floor, just under the corner of her bed. It must’ve fallen out of Ethan’s pocket when he’d done his striptease.
Her stomach fluttered at the delicious memory. She really should make an effort to get the knife back to him. Heck, all she had to do was hand it over to Lea. And she would. Soon. Real soon. Next time she saw her neighbor, she would definitely do that, since Ethan had yet to make it back to the city for a visit. With Ben and Lea. Not her. She knew he wouldn’t come into the city just to see her.
And that was fine.
Why should he?
Just because they’d shared an incredible night of wild monkey sex? Nah. She probably never even crossed his mind. He was a guy. He’d enjoyed the night and moved on. Which was exactly what Phoebe had expected to do. And she pretty much had, or at least thought she had, but then she would see a Mets hat or hear that Enrique song, and her mind would instantly conjure up an image of the drop-dead sexy man sprawled out in her bed asleep…and naked.
Damned annoying.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out, already knowing it was her mother calling to remind her of the meeting with her agent.
“Where are you? Sidetracked by the street vendors again?”
Phoebe smiled at the humor in her mother’s voice. An all knowing humor. “Not anymore,” she replied, walking past the rest of the tables. “I’m almost there. See you in a minute.”
She shoved the phone back in her pocket and rushed down the final two blocks to Niles’ office. Shopping could wait, but her career couldn’t. This was the final week of her show, and she had yet to sign on for another.
Hence the meeting.
None of the productions he’d proposed to her to audition had sparked her interest. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She was unusually restless. Probably because the screen test wasn’t going to take place until the end of the summer now. The casting director had contacted her agent last week and mentioned a delay because of an investor and change in timetables. So, she was free to commit to a short run play. Hopefully, he found something a bit more summer stockish.
As she walked into the lobby of the old art deco building, she felt transported back to the lavish 1930s. The rich colors on the walls, shiny patterned floors, and bold geometric shapes decorating the gold and black elevators were remnants of that magical time period.
Lea always drooled whenever she stepped inside. Phoebe couldn’t blame the history buff. Niles’ office was in one of the city’s historic gems. The building’s style carried right through to his office.
“Hi, Phoebe. Go right in.” His secretary smiled. Nearly as old as the building, the woman was a vat of knowledge she sometimes tapped. “They’re expecting you.”
“Thanks, Milly.” She walked past the woman and into her agent’s office.
“Oh, you wer
en’t kidding. You were close,” her mom said with a smile. “I think you’re going to like what Niles has to say.”
He nodded. “I think I found you a gig.”
She dropped into the chair next to her mother and laughed. He made it sound like she was a rock star. “Okay, do tell.”
He sat back, smug expression on his face as he set his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. “I have one word for you.”
She raised a brow. “Which is…?”
“Christine.”
She sat up, dividing her gaze between him and her mother. “Really? Phantom? Where? I haven’t heard rumors of an off-Broadway production.”
“That’s because it’s not in the city,” Niles said.
Where was he sending her, then? “It’s not?”
“This is the best part.” Her mother leaned closer. “It couldn’t work out any better with Lea’s upcoming wedding.”
Lea? What the heck did her friend have to do with it? “Wait.” She snapped her attention back to Niles. “It’s in the Poconos?”
“Yep. At the Ross Theater,” he replied. “It opens in three weeks and runs to early August.”
She reeled back. “That doesn’t leave much time to rehearse.”
“Rehearsals started two weeks ago, but the lead dropped out this morning due to a death in the family. The producer heard I’d put the word out you were looking to do a short run, so he called me an hour ago to see if you’d be interested.”
To play Christine in The Phantom of the Opera?
“Absolutely.”
“It’s only her favorite part in her favorite play in the world,” her mother added with a grin.
He folded his hands on the desk and held her gaze. “The pay isn’t much.”
“It’s Christine.” She smiled. The excitement that had been missing from her life suddenly reappeared.
She jumped to her feet and began to pace, and although each production had its own choreography and direction, her mind already played the songs in her head, while old dance routines and stage directions flooded her brain. “When do I start?”
“How’s Tuesday sound?”
“Like it’s only two days away,” she answered, coming to a halt to blink at him. He’d lost his mind. She needed time to pack and find a place to stay.
He snickered. “I know, but they need you ASAP, and since this afternoon is the close of your show, that’ll give you tomorrow to drive to the Poconos and find a place,” he said as if reading her mind.
Her mother rose to her feet and stepped closer. “I’m sure you could stay at the Wynes’ Resort.”
Shoot. The Wynes.
Ethan.
She’d be staying in his hometown.
“Yeah, isn’t that your neighbor’s fiancé’s hotel?” Niles nodded, his expression warming up to the idea. “Maybe they’ll give you a break on the rate if you stay there the whole summer.”
Possibly, but she didn’t think daily contact with Ethan would be such a good idea. Running into him occasionally at functions was one thing, but daily contact for weeks? No. That would be pushing it.
But, without the proper time to find a place, she was probably going to have to stay there a few days, at least.
“I’ll call them back and tell them you’re in for Christine, and to expect you on Tuesday,” Niles said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll email them a standard contract, and once they fill in the blanks, and I approve, I’ll have you sign it, then I’ll shoot it back to them.”
She nodded.
“Oh, I’m so happy for you getting to play Christine again,” her mother said, pulling her in for a quick hug. “And happy for me because I’ll get to hear you sing those amazing songs.”
It was no secret her mother loved the play as much as she did. Maybe even more.
“But, today is the end of your current play, and even though it didn’t get any Tony nods, it has been a great run. Enjoy your final show and the cast party, hun. You deserve it.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Mom. I will, and I’d better get going.” Closing days were even more hectic than opening days sometimes. And always bittersweet with goodbyes to cast and crew she may never get to work with again.
The business was fickle. She never knew when a goodbye might be permanent, so she treated each one as if it was, which meant she needed to check with the theater to make sure the chocolate roses she’d ordered for the cast and crew had arrived from Jill.
After final curtain this afternoon, there would be no need to worry about eating chocolate, and her friend’s creations were a celebration unto themselves.
But she did need to worry over the fact she’d be exposed to a lot more of Jill’s candy at her friend’s two shops in the Poconos. Much easier not to indulge during her off times when she didn’t have easy access. Over-exposure could prove hazardous.
This summer was going to test her self-control. And not just on chocolate. No. The Poconos harbored an even more decadent danger.
Ethan Wyne.
Chapter Six
Early Monday afternoon, Ethan exited the supply shed where he’d just hung a pair of oars after rowing two little old ladies from Poughkeepsie around the lake. A task he was happy to take on until one of them gave him that old wink and eyelash flutter. Because lately, no matter his assignment, someone always hit on him. It was as if he was giving off a damn pheromone or something. Camping, hiking, fishing, rowing, didn’t matter. Someone in his group hit on him. Sometimes more than one someone. And sometimes that someone wasn’t always female.
Christ. He hoped Ben didn’t catch wind of that one.
“Hey, Ethan,” Mason called, waving from the trail that led to the resort. “Ready for lunch? You won’t believe who I just ran into in the lobby.”
Lunch? He was ready for a drink. Hell, a whole damn bottle. And a shower. With disinfectant.
“I hope it’s the two ladies from Poughkeepsie leaving to go home,” he replied, striding right past his grinning brother.
Mason stopped him with a restraining hand on his arm. “What? Why? Don’t tell me they hit on you, too?”
He snorted. “Take the widowed sisters out. It’ll be a refreshing change. Finally, things would get back to normal. Wrong.”
“No way.” Mason’s lip twitched.
“Yes, way. Damn octogenarians were more like octopuses. And sneaky, too. One sweet, unassuming smile and simple request to row toward the center so they could view the whole lake, turned into a grope fest. They tricked me. Trapped me. Touching and squeezing in places they had no business acquainting, Mason. No business. I could feel my crotch withering like a prune, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. I’m lucky my twig and berries didn’t end up on the boat floor. I’ve no idea why it didn’t fall off.”
His brother was out and out grinning now. “Sorry, bro.”
Bullshit. Smiling idiot looked far from sorry.
“Yeah, right. Well, it got worse,” he said. “One started to undo her shirt. That was it. I was done. I threatened to jump overboard and swim for shore. And I would’ve. I swear, Mason, I was going in. One more button and I was hitting the lake and not looking back. I mean, Jesus, there are just some things you couldn’t unsee.”
His unsupportive, idiot sibling laughed so hard he doubled over.
Ethan threw his hands in the air and cursed. “It isn’t funny. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, lately. There’s something wrong with the guests. They keep coming on to me.” Then he stilled as a thought hit him. “So help me, Mason. Are you putting them up to it?”
“What? No…no, Ethan,” his brother replied, detangling from the grip on his shoulder. “It’s all you, man. Can’t blame anyone but yourself, except, maybe Phoebe.”
“Phoebe?” He reeled back. “What does she have to do with it?”
Mason shrugged. “I don’t know. She put you in touch with your sexy side or something.”
He muttered a curse. “Now you’re just talking nonsense.”
“No, it’s true,” his brother insisted. “Ask Jill and Lea. They’re the ones who noticed it first.”
Ah hell. “Noticed what?”
“That you’re different,” Mason replied. “Ever since your night with Phoebe, you’re more relaxed and confident or something. I don’t know, man. You just carry yourself differently. And it’s my guess that’s what’s attracting the women.”
His bark of laughter echoed through the trees. “That’s crazy. I haven’t changed.”
“Yes, you have. Surely you’ve notice it. You can’t tell me it’s just the guests that are treating you different.”
Ethan searched his mind and recalled a few weird moments the past month. A lady holding the door open for him at the post office. For him. That was weird. He’d thanked her, but grabbed the door and insisted she go first. Just didn’t seem right to proceed her into the building.
Another approached him last week at the grocery store to hand him extra coupons she didn’t need. And twice this month, while he was coaching Tyler’s little league team, he’d accepted a coffee one of the mothers handed him when she’d passed snacks to the kids. Michelle had given him a snack, too. A homemade brownie. Not as good as Jill’s, but it had hit the spot. Her daughter, Harlie, was in Tyler’s class, so he’d exchanged pleasantries with the woman at more than one school function. She was a single parent, too. He felt comfortable around the pretty little blonde and just assumed her friendliness had been because he treated her daughter like one of the team. Now…
“Ah, hell.”
Mason cupped his shoulder and grinned. “Face it, bro. You’re irresistible.”
“Dammit. I don’t want to be.”
“Then you shouldn’t have had great sex with Phoebe.” His unhelpful brother snickered. “You don’t regret it, do you?”
“No,” he immediately answered. Not one damn second, expect maybe the fact they didn’t have more of those great seconds. The woman crossed his mind too many times this past month, though. He had yet to figure out a way to make it stop.
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