Wyne and Song

by Donna Michaels

  “Then why didn’t you go back last week when Ben invited you along?”

  One of the hardest things he’d ever done was turning down that invitation. Another night with Phoebe would be too dangerous. Too addicting. She made him feel ten feet tall. He wanted to pound his chest every time he brought her pleasure. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine frequent visits. Even thought about using his missing pocket knife as an excuse to drop by her penthouse, which had been the last place he’d remembered having it. But, she could keep the damn thing. He already bought himself another. It wasn’t worth stirring things up over, because even if the actress was game to try a relationship, which he doubted, the bottom line was he didn’t want her in his son’s life.

  Tyler deserved a woman he could rely on, not someone like his mother who’d put her own needs first. His son mattered. No way would he allow Tyler to get attached to a woman who would leave and break his heart. And given Phoebe’s occupation, the star couldn’t physically be there for him. So, no point in visiting.

  Exchanging pleasantries at rare social events would have to suffice. Besides, other than the wedding, he didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

  Realizing his brother was waiting for a reply, he shrugged. “It was a one-time thing. No reason to deliberately meet.”

  “So, chance meetings are fine, but not a planned meet,” Mason said, peculiar smirk on his face.

  “Yes, why?”

  “No reason. Just curious.”

  “Whatever. Aren’t we supposed to meet your fiancée for lunch?” he asked, beyond ready to drop the Phoebe subject. He preferred to think about her, recall their time together when he was alone. “Let’s go eat. I’m starved.”

  Mason nodded, falling into step with him. “Yeah, I hear groping old ladies will do that to a guy. You know, make you work up an appetite.”

  “Bite me.” He scowled, yanking the door open and stepping inside ahead of the grinning jerk. “Don’t come crying to me when you take them on that hike this afternoon.”

  “Shit.” Mason stumbled next to him. “They’re on my hike?”

  “Yep. Enjoy. Maybe wear a cup.”

  Happy to have the upper hand, he smiled all the way to Timber’s, the resort’s bar and grille. Even though the summer season didn’t officially kick off until the upcoming Memorial Day weekend, business was booming. The restaurants were always packed at mealtimes, and judging by the line by the restaurant’s door, today was no different. Damn.

  “Come on. Jill and her friend already grabbed a table,” Mason said, leading the way.

  Friend?

  Ethan cursed under his breath. “I hope you’re not trying to set me up, Mason.”

  “No. Honest. This was just a chance thing. We had nothing to do with it. No idea she was going to be here.”

  “She?” His heart rocked in his chest as he scanned the guests. “She who?”

  “Over here.” Jill waved from a booth by the window. “Look who I found in the lobby?”

  As he neared, he recognized the awareness spreading through his body and didn’t need to see the familiar brown gaze of the gorgeous woman sitting opposite his grinning future sister-in-law.

  Phoebe.

  “Hello.” She smiled.

  Damn. That explained Mason’s strange line of questioning. Bastard could’ve warned him she was at the resort.

  Why was she at the resort?

  Ah, hell. He hoped it wasn’t for him. His chest tightened. No way would he get involved with her. No matter how much his body protested.

  “Hi,” he finally said, sitting down next to her after Mason joined Jill. “This is a surprise.”

  Seriously? A booth? Couldn’t they have grabbed a table? At least then his leg and arm wouldn’t have the ability to brush his ex-lover’s sweet curves. And that’s what she was, his ex-lover. This meal would not lead to bed like the last time they’d eaten together.

  No way.

  Not happening. Even though his crotch already twitched to life, confirming his twig and berries were still intact.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Phoebe said, her dark gaze contrite. “I only just found out yesterday, right before the final two performances of my Broadway play.”

  “It closed?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we got to see you just in time,” Mason said.

  Excitement lit Jill’s face as she grabbed his brother’s arm. “And you can see her again, soon. She’s in Phantom of the Opera.”

  “Great movie. The original one.” He hadn’t seen the remake, but he did remember his sister, gushing about it. And someone named Gerard.

  “So was the recent one,” Phoebe said. “Emmy Rossum was phenomenal and Gerard? He nailed it.”

  Jill nodded. “Yeah, who knew he could sing like that?”

  “Wait.” Mason leaned forward. “You’re doing Phantom? Do you mean the local summer production at the Ross Theater?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  He stiffened.

  No…shit, no.

  This was bad. Real bad.

  Resisting the woman for a day was one thing, but two and half months?

  Ah, hell. He could feel the coffin lid closing on him already. He was screwed.

  “How great is that?” Jill beamed. “She’ll be around for Lea’s wedding preparation and get to enjoy the Poconos for the summer.”

  Mason nodded, grin way too broad for Ethan’s liking. “Will you be staying here? We can give you a great discount.”

  No…shit, no!

  He’d never survive. His willpower was about to go through the ringer. Especially with her staying right in his resort.

  “That’s sweet of you, but I only booked for a few days. I was hoping you all could help me find a small cabin or something I could rent.”

  Thank God.

  Tightness easing from his chest, Ethan nodded. “Maybe you’re in luck. This is the weekend Jill is moving in with Mason.” He turned his attention to his brother’s fiancée. “Is your place rented out already?”

  “No, actually, it isn’t anymore.” Jill smiled. “My landlord told me the guy who was supposed to move in just accepted a job in lower Manhattan. So the place is back on the market.”

  “Sweet.” Phoebe pulled out her phone. “What’s your landlord’s number? I’ll call him after lunch.”

  With the temptation’s future accommodations rectified, and not in the proximity of his son, Ethan relaxed and enjoyed his lunch. Good food, good company, and only two interruptions from guests wanting Phoebe’s autograph, made the hour go fast. His booth-mate never leaned into him, or stared, or placed a hand on him while she laughed. The perfect lunch companion. He finally enjoyed an hour grope-free.

  As she explained how her screen test had been pushed back until the end of the summer, and she ended up signing on to do the play, her gaze had remained friendly, but never lingered.

  In fact, throughout lunch, her whole demeanor remained unobtrusive. She treated him no different than Mason. No one would ever guess, a few weeks ago, she’d been naked and moaning beneath him, begging him for release.

  His glass froze at his lips. He’d just been friend-zoned.

  Son-of-a-bitch. Was he that forgettable?

  He clamped his jaw shut to keep from cursing out loud. What the hell was wrong with him? This was what he wanted. Friend-zone. Not lover-lane. He had no right to question her behavior. She was holding up her end. Not acting awkward and strange because they’d had sex.

  Which was great. Perfect.

  And would be even better once she moved her temptingly perfect body into Jill’s place, and he didn’t have to deal with his conflicting desires. One minute he wanted her gone. The next he wanted her in his bed.

  Damn. It’s going to be a long, hot summer.

  And the Best Actress Award goes to…Phoebe Weston for her portrayal of Ethan’s uninterested ex-lover.

  She’d never survive the summer if she had to stay at the Wyne Resort. Not beca
use the place was lacking. It was great, as Jill’s tour revealed right after she’d taken Phoebe to see her cottage, which, too, was great. The one-bedroom, craftsman bungalow was charming, so she immediately called the landlord and left him a voicemail when he didn’t answer.

  Then Jill drove them back to the resort and gave her the grand tour. And grand was fitting for all the amenities the place had to offer. Large, state-of-the-art fitness center, four restaurants, two coffee shops, a club, three bars—sports, piano, and her favorite kind, karaoke—and an honest to goodness chocolate factory. Jill’s. The best part of the tour.

  After it ended, Phoebe took advantage of a relaxing massage at the resort’s fabulous spa, and now, she was sitting on a bench by the lake, soaking in the beauty, watching people enjoying the outdoors. Several boats dotted the water. A handful of fisherman lined a nearby dock. A group of children tossed a ball around in an open field to her right, and several more laughed and splashed in the water under the watchful eye of a lifeguard, sitting high in a tower centered on a beached off area. The resort was impressive, and judging by the sheer size, it was time-consuming to run. Factor in all the year-round outdoor activities and it was a wonder the Wynes had time to sleep. The brothers created a true five-star lodging.

  With a ten-star rating for the oldest.

  Having toured the place, she understood Ethan a little more. The reason for his fatigue. His motivation to put his son first when he had down time. Which had to be rare, between helping to run the business and committing one weekend a month and two-and-a-half weeks a year to the National Guard. Poor guy really couldn’t fit anything or anyone else into his tight schedule.

  Well, he needn’t worry about her.

  Jill moving out of her cottage was a godsend, and with luck, Phoebe would move in. Soon. A few nights at the resort was doable if she kept a wide berth where the sexy dad was concerned. He’d given the impression he wouldn’t mind her lack of existence. In fact, during lunch a few hours ago, she sensed he initially thought she was there because of him.

  Hopefully, she’d put his mind at ease. She was in town to work. Not reconnect. Although, it had taken all her willpower to keep from swaying into his warm, hard muscles.

  Stupid body.

  The physical pull was a lot stronger than the last time she sat next to him at a restaurant. No doubt because she’d sampled him, tasted him; her body knew he was capable of giving mind-blowing orgasms, and would never forget. No matter how hard she tried. And she did try. Too bad her body had a great memory.

  But, no one needed to know, and thanks to her profession, she could pretend outwardly that the connection didn’t exist. It was crazy. She didn’t even know why this was an issue. The last thing she needed was an active social life. A commitment. She already had one…to acting. Her life. Her calling. She poured everything she had into it.

  The one and only time she’d tried to have both had backfired, crushing her heart and nearly ending her career. The popular actor hadn’t really loved her. He loved himself and the publicity being seen with her generated the seven months they’d dated. Her mother tried to warn her, but she’d been too young, too blind, soaking up his attention, eager to drop plans to be with him…including a rehearsal. A week later, the actor dumped her for a bigger fish who “fit into his lifestyle better.” After some major sweet-talking and damage control, her agent managed to convince the director not to recast her part.

  Lesson learned.

  Performing was her first love. Stepping on stage made her heart pound. Hearing the audience laugh, cry, applaud filled her with joy. Receiving flowers and letters expressing how she touched someone’s heart, touched her own. And she could always count on the rush of adrenaline when the curtain lifted opening night, although, lately, the whooshing through her ears hadn’t been as strong. A change in scenery, venue, and production would increase the whooshing. She hoped.

  Ethan had been a good whoosher, her mind whispered.

  A smile tugged her lips. True. The man certainly knew how to make her heart pound and blood pump. He was good at it, and he was a good man. His love for his son, and desire to keep the boy first and foremost in his life was sweet and endearing, and she respected the hell out of him. Ethan Wyne was a true father, unlike hers who had been nothing but a sperm donor.

  “Lady! Look out!”

  The shout of a child startled Phoebe out of her thoughts. She turned toward the commotion in time to see a white blur flying through the air at her at mach speed. That missing adrenaline appeared with a vengeance as she reacted automatically, before hitting the ground.

  “You killed her, Johnny.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “You’re gonna go to jail.”

  The voices of two little boys and one girl registered in her brain as she rolled on the ground and continued right to her feet, then faced the approaching children. With the ball in her hand.

  “She caught it! Did you see that, Johnny?” A cute, dark-haired little boy rushed toward her, brown eyes as big as saucers.

  “Yeah.” The other boy nodded, stopping in front of her. “Told you I didn’t kill her. She’s a ninja. You can’t kill ninjas.”

  A pretty little girl caught up to them and shook her head, blonde ponytails swinging back and forth. “No, she’s not. She’s a Jedi.”

  The boy with the brown eyes gazed up at her. “Are you, lady?”

  “Yeah. Are you a Jedi or a ninja?” Johnny asked.

  She crouched down to look the children in the eyes. “Neither, I’m afraid.”

  Two warm, and slightly sticky hands grabbed her face, while the little, dark-haired boy brought his melt-your-heart chocolate gaze close. “Then how did you catch the ball so fast and not get hitted?”

  Oh, he had some serious cuteness going on.

  Keeping her smile in check, she winked. “Lots of practice and training.”

  “Then you are a ninja.” Johnny stepped close to take the ball from her. “They practice and train.”

  Nodding, the little boy released her face. “Yeah. Maybe she’s a ninja on a secret mission and can’t say anything.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Are you okay, Miss?” An older gentleman drew near, silver sprinkled in the dark brow furrowed with concern in his handsome face.

  She nodded as she stood, unwilling to let the children get in trouble over her. “Yes. Just fine.”

  “She didn’t get hitted, Grandpa,” the brown-eyed boy stated, stepping forward. “She caught the ball like a ninja.”

  “Or Jedi,” the little girl chimed in.

  She laughed. “I wish. Jedi’s are cool.”

  Being cast in one of those movies would rock.

  “You sure you’re not hurt?” With his strong jaw, salt-n-pepper hair, and keen gaze, the mature man wore handsome like his confidence, with a distinguished ease. “That was some catch,” he said, grin tugging his mouth, softening his no-nonsense expression.

  She gathered he was the kids’ designated babysitter, no doubt while their mothers were taking advantage of one of the resort’s many amenities, like the spa.

  A place she definitely planned to visit again.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She smiled down at Johnny. “And that was some throw. My hand is still stinging.”

  His little chest puffed up as pride washed through his features. “Coach said to work on power, then we’ll practice aim.”

  “But you threw it too high over my head, Johnny, and you know I don’t jump good,” the other boy grumbled. Aggravation erased the smile from his face.

  “Don’t jump well,” his grandfather corrected.

  The little boy nodded, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he stared down at his sneaker. “Yeah. I’m no good at that, either.”

  The dejection in his tone and slump of his rounded shoulders tugged deep. Her heart squeezed. Before thinking twice, she knelt in front of him and dipped to catch his gaze. “I don’t believe that. Practice helps. How do you think I was ab
le to catch that ball?”

  “Practice?”

  Actually, it was from training in movement, stage fights, and dance, but they all required hours and hours of practice over many years. She nodded. “Yep. Practice and hard work. That’s the secret to doing anything well.”

  “Like pitching,” Johnny said.

  “And jumping.” The little boy smiled.

  She nodded. “Yes.” Happy to see joy return to his gaze.

  “And being a Jedi.” The adorable girl snapped into a Jedi pose very similar to a baseball batter stance.

  Laughing, she rose to her feet. “Tell you what, why don’t you all show me how you jump, and I’ll teach you a trick to jump higher.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you,” the man remarked, sitting down on the bench. “I’ll keep this warm for you.”

  “Yay,” the kids chorused, jumping up and down like three little jumping beans, each trying to outdistance the other.

  After a minute of watching, she gathered the beans around and showed them how she jumped, from techniques she learned playing volleyball in high school, and dance lessons.

  “Holy cow! How’d you do that? Show me how you did that,” the boys said in tandem, while the little girl grabbed her hand and jumped. “Yeah, show me, too.”

  Phoebe chuckled. “Okay. Form a line.”

  The kids immediately scrambled into position.

  “Feet flat on the ground and in line with your shoulders. Keep your arms down at your sides while you squat just a little, like a half-squat.” She demonstrated, and they mimicked her movements. “Remember to keep your arms down before you start to jump, not in front of you or above your head. You’re going to use them to help you jump higher.”

  The children nodded, in their half-squat positions, arms at their sides, resembling a pack of gorillas. She smiled. They were good at following directions, unlike a few actors she knew who could learn a thing or two from the children.

  “What’s next?” Johnny asked.

  “I want you to visualize the jumps in your head. See yourself pushing off with your feet and reaching for whatever your goal is, baseball, volleyball, the basketball hoop, Frisbee.”