And Playing the Role of Herself...

by K E Lane

  At the top of the stairs was a huge room with a gigantic bed on a simple log frame, the headboard filled with books.

  Robyn dropped my hand, muttering, "one sec," before crossing the room to disappear into an arched doorway that led to a large walk-in closet.

  I stood stock-still. I was standing in Robyn Ward's bedroom.

  I glanced around nervously, shifting uncomfortably and trying not to stare at the bed. I felt like a voyeur, and it was not a pleasant feeling.

  Robyn emerged from the closet and tossed a shirt at me. I snagged it out of the air on pure reflex, the rest of my body still to busy trying not to look the bed, where Robyn slept, every night, wearing god knows what, or what not…

  "It's getting a little chilly."

  Robyn's words drew my attention thankfully away from not looking at the bed, and I followed her through a sliding glass door, out onto another deck. This one smaller and more cozy; offering an even better view, with a low table and two large adirondack chairs taking up most of the space. Robyn set her wine down on the table and threaded her long arms through the sleeves of the shirt she had brought out, buttoned up a few of the buttons, and sat down in one of the chairs, motioning for me to take other.

  I set my wine glass next to hers on the table and quickly pulled the shirt she had handed me over my head, settling it down around my torso. The cloth was soft and warm against the skin of my arms, and it smelled like her…I had to stop myself from burying my face in the folds and just breathing the scent of her in.

  Difficult to explain that kind of behavior.

  I settled into the chair, and we sat looking over the city, not speaking. Or rather Robyn sat looking over the city - I spent more of my time watching Robyn's profile in the dim light, wanting to trace every curve, every line, every hollow.

  "This is a great place, Robyn," I said eventually, dragging my eyes back to the cityscape.

  "Yeah," she sighed contentedly, "I love it here."

  "I can see why."

  She picked up her glass and held it balanced on her stomach, tracing the rim absently with a thin, elegant finger. "I'm going to miss it. I'll be gone most of the summer filming on another project. Lynne Wesson's latest. We'll be on location in the Florida Keys for about half of it, and then in New York for soundstage work."

  I loved her hands. The fingers were long and slender, strong and graceful…she used her hands often when she spoke, and I'd caught myself several times that evening, mesmerized by the movements of those hands.

  Her words finally registered, and I dragged my eyes away from her hands and leaned forward. Lynne Wesson was a hot independent director, and landing a role in one of her movies was quite a coup. "Lynne Wesson? Robyn, that's great! Hell, that's fantastic!" I touched her on the arm. "Congratulations."

  She looked over at me with a pleased, slightly embarrassed smile. "Thanks. I'm a little freaked out about it, to be completely honest. I don't even know how in the hell I got the part." She laughed and shook her head. "I didn't even see the script first - I just got this call out of the blue from one of Lynne's assistants, wondering if I wanted to read for a part in her new film. Auditions were in New York and damn, I couldn't get on the plane fast enough. I met her, and after we'd talked about five minutes - kind of weirding me out because she kept staring at me - she told me I had the part, handed me the script, and left. I didn't even have to read for it. It was pretty damn strange, but I'm not complaining."

  "I bet you're not. Have you done films before?"

  "No…well, a made for TV thing a few years back, but nothing like this. And the part is a good one, too. The movie's about a thirty-something family man from the mid-west who just walks out on his life one day and goes to the Florida Keys to try to get some perspective but ends up getting caught up in a lot of shit…she's cast Lonnie Colchev as the lead, and I get to play his strung-out, ex-stripper girlfriend. The working title of the script is Lost Key." The excitement and pleasure in her voice was evident.

  "Lynne Wesson and Lonnie Colchev? Damn, woman, that sounds great," I said, impressed and a little awed that she was going to be in a Lynne Wesson movie. Made my summer seem pretty pathetic.

  As if in answer to my thought, she asked, "Got any projects lined up this summer?"

  I laughed. "Well, none as exciting as yours…let's see…a golf tournament right after we break for the summer - and I suck at golf - a week of remodeling a house in New Mexico on the celebrity version of Fix This House, a couple charity 5Ks…Connie is still working on some stuff." I shrugged. "If it pans out, that's great, if not, I won't be too upset. I kinda like having the free time."

  She took a sip of wine, and glanced at me curiously. "Why are you doing a golf tournament if you suck at golf?"

  "Because Liz doesn't play golf, and Danny is really persuasive," I replied dryly. She raised an eyebrow, and I elaborated. "Danny is a golf freak. It's a little scary, actually, how much that game means to him. Anyway, he got asked to do this celebrity co-ed tournament, and he signed up, thinking he'd get Liz to play. The two of them talk golf all the time, so Danny just assumed she played…but it turns out she doesn't, she's just an avid watcher, and so Danny asked me…but I don't think he realizes how truly awful I am at golf. He might as well just play with Liz."

  She chuckled and sighed, settling back into her seat. We were quiet for several minutes, just enjoying the night and the view.

  "Thanks for coming over tonight, Caid," she said finally, and looked over at me. "It's nice…to get to know you better."

  I thought of how much I enjoyed her company, how I liked her intelligence, her humor…and I remembered how good she and Josh had looked together in the kitchen. My smile was bittersweet. "Yes, it is."

  She took a sip of wine and looked away. "Especially since I'm going to be kissing you in a week or so."

  Goddamn. The woman had all sorts of ways to leave me breathless.

  "You are?" My voice cracked. Like a freaking fourteen-year-old boy.

  "Yes…" She went back to tracing the rim of her glass, staring at it intently. "That is, if you're sure you're okay with it. I know Grant was being kind of a dickhead yesterday and didn't give you much choice, so if you're not okay with it, I can probably talk to someone..."

  "No, really. I'm okay with it." It was nice she was willing to do that, but I really was fine with it, especially now that I knew it was going to be her. Although it would probably be better for me if it wasn't.

  "You're sure?"

  "Absolutely." I frowned, and asked cautiously, "Are you?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Good."

  "Good."

  I gulped at my wine. "Uh…how does Josh feel about all this?"

  She was quiet for a moment, staring at her glass. "We're not together, you know. Not a couple, I mean." She delivered the information matter-of-factly, as though she hadn't just said something that completely stunned me. Then she laughed. "Actually, Josh thinks I'm very lucky."

  "Pardon?" I stammered.

  "Josh thinks I'm lucky. To get a chance to kiss you…"

  "No, no…I mean the 'not together' part." I sat up in my chair and put my wineglass down. "Robyn, the last time I was at the store, I saw the two of you on no less than five magazine or newspaper covers. Most of them speculating on the date of your impending nuptials, except for the one that said Josh was wildly jealous because you were pregnant with George Clooney's baby."

  "Caid," she said lightly, amusement coloring her tone, "you should know as well as anyone not to believe a word of that garbage. Don't tell me you actually read those things."

  "I was bored," I mumbled defensively, my head spinning with the realization that Robyn had suddenly gone from completely, unattainably safe, to something else. I didn't know what that 'else' was yet, but it scared the crap out of me. "I don't…"

  "Besides," she waved her hand dismissively, "I've never even met George Clooney."

  The look on my face must have been priceless, because when she
looked at me, she burst out laughing. "Oh, god, Caid. You are so damn adorable."

  She thinks I'm adorable.

  I shook my head. I'd think about that later. Right now, I wanted her to stay on the subject.

  "I just spent the evening with the two of you, and you seemed pretty damned together to me. This isn't just me believing what I read in the tabloids, Robyn, this is what the entire world has been led to believe for the past two years."

  She shrugged, and took a sip of wine. "We're good friends, and enjoy being with each other, but we're not together romantically. If the tabloids misconstrue that, that's their problem."

  She seemed so nonchalant about it, and I tried to match her attitude. Honestly, I should be leaping for joy. Praising the heavens. She was - technically - single. But instead I was angry. I was like any other human being, and didn't like to be duped. I also didn't like contemplating other parts of who I thought Robyn was that might not be genuine.

  Conversation after that was forced - she tried to draw me out, but I was distracted by her announcement, and I'm sure my answers seemed curt, verging on outright rude. When I told her I needed to head home, she didn't argue, only nodded resignedly, and showed me to the door.

  The mixture of sadness and confusion on her face as we said painfully polite goodbyes made me feel like an ass, and I berated myself the entire way home, trying to figure out why I'd reacted the way I had. So Robyn wasn't with Josh. So what? So they let the public think they were. So what?

  What really had set me off, I realized, was my fear at her sudden change in status from forbidden to not-so-forbidden, and that was ridiculous. She was still just as straight, just as unattainable as ever.

  Wasn't she?

  That was the question. All my dealings with Robyn up to now; the smiles, the slightly flirtatious banter, the touches…all that time I'd been under the impression that she was with Josh. I'd assumed she was flirtatious by nature, and touchy.

  But what if…

  What if.

  I sighed, frustrated. With guys, it was easy. But I'd never done this before with a woman. Were the signs the same? How did you know? How could you tell what was friendship and what was more?

  I let myself into my small, cottage-style house in the hills outside of La Canada, still puzzling over these questions, and no closer to an answer, although I had come to the conclusion that I needed to call Robyn first thing in the morning and apologize.

  Robyn beat me to it.

  The voice on my machine was hesitant and subdued. "Caid…it's Robyn. I don't know what happened…but I feel like somehow I upset you…whatever I did, I'm sorry." There was a sigh, and I could picture her running a hand through her hair. "I'd like to talk to you, please call me."

  She left a number, which I automatically wrote down, and then stared at.

  I picked up the phone and tapped it against my forehead a few times.

  Ok. You can do this. Just tell her you're sorry, that you had a nice evening…something like that.

  I took a breath and punched in the numbers.

  Her breathless voice answered on the fourth ring, and I basked for just a moment in the warmth that flowed through my body at the sound.

  "Robyn? It's…"

  "Caid." The relief in her voice was obvious, and I kicked myself again for being such an ass. "Caid, I'm sorry. Whatever I did…"

  "No," I stopped her, "It's me that should apologize. I'm sorry, Robyn, you just…you just surprised me, and I felt like I'd been lied to, and I overreacted."

  Ohhhh. Good thinking on your feet, Harris. Maybe you should go into acting.

  "Oh." That stopped her, and it was several seconds before she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Caid, I never thought about it that way. Josh and I…we've never actually lied about it, but I guess lies of omission are just as bad…it's been good for both of our careers to be seen as a couple…"

  "You don't owe me any explanation, Robyn. It's your business, and I had no right to act the way I did."

  She sighed. "Caid, I like you. Very much. I haven't felt…I haven't had a new…friend…in a long time. That's why I told you tonight." She paused, and continued quietly. "I'm sorry if you felt as though I'd lied to you. I didn't do it purposely; Josh and I, we've just been doing this so long…"

  "Are you running in the morning?" I asked suddenly. I didn't want to hear her apologize anymore for my stupid behavior.

  A beat.

  "Yes," came the hesitant answer.

  "When?"

  "Usually at 6:30 or so." No hesitation this time.

  "Where?"

  "Silver Lake trail. I start out from here, there's an entrance about five blocks down the hill."

  "I'll see you at 6:30, then."

  Another pause, then she laughed. "Deal."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When I pulled into Robyn's drive the next morning, she was already out front, pushing against the wall and stretching out her calves. She wore mid-calf black running tights and a gray and black, zip-up top against the morning chill, both items hugging the flat planes and subtle curves of her body, accentuating her athletic build and long limbs. I'd been hoping she wouldn't run in shorts, not knowing if I could function with a view of her bare legs, but I wasn't so sure this was any better.

  I took a deep, calming breath, got out of the car and walked over.

  She smiled a greeting, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail as I approached. "Morning."

  "Morning."

  "Gonna be warm enough?" she asked with a teasing grin. I had chosen loose navy blue running pants, a gray hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves cut out, and a lightweight white skull hat. It was a cold morning, and I hated running cold. Compared to Robyn, thought, I looked like a thug.

  I smiled back at the jab, wondering if I should bring up the night before, or wait for her to do it.

  "Ready to go?" she asked, bouncing on her toes a few times.

  Or maybe we wouldn't talk about it at all. That was okay by me.

  "Yep."

  She nodded, and set off down the drive at a good clip. I chased after her and settled into stride on her left. I'd been right about those endless legs of hers - she had a long, easy stride and I could tell immediately I was going to have my work cut out for me this morning.

  I felt a competitive spark flare inside me, and did my best to squelch it. I didn't know how far Robyn planned to run, and already her pace was faster than my usual speed. I'd end up killing myself if I tried to outrun her.

  Robyn told me during one of our few spurts of conversation that the trail around Silver Lake was just over two and a half miles long, and she usually ran it twice. I was welcome to go further if I wanted.

  "Twice is fine," I assured her hastily, trying to keep from showing that I was already breathing heavily.

  I did myself proud for four miles, keeping up with her stride for stride. Then she glanced over at me with a wicked grin.

  Damn.

  I was about to get crushed.

  She lengthened her stride and I managed to keep up for another hundred yards before my lack of breakfast and lack of sleep the night before caught up with me. At least that's what I told myself.

  Soon Robyn was just a speck in the distance, and I shook my head with a wry grin, slowing down and finishing the last mile at more comfortable pace.

  She was sitting against a tree on the grass, pretending to take a nap when I jogged up and collapsed beside her, breathing heavily. She opened one eye and looked over at me with a lazy grin.

  "I was wondering when you'd show up."

  "Bite me, Ward," I growled through gasping breaths, shedding my sweatshirt and using it to wipe the sweat from my arms and face before tossing it to the side. I groaned and leaned back on my elbows, closing my eyes and listening to my breathing and heart rate slow.

  Underneath the sweatshirt I'd worn a gray and white bra top that ended a few inches above my navel, and the early morning sun felt good on the damp, exposed skin of my stomach and shoulde
rs. I sighed in pleasure and turned to Robyn to comment on how quickly it had warmed up. The words stuck in my throat when I saw the look on her face as she watched the rise and fall of my stomach. She seemed…enthralled was a good word for it, I guess.

  I tensed in reaction; she flicked a glance at my face and looked away quickly.

  "Nice morning," she said, and picked at the grass under her hand.

  "Sure is." I replied when I was able. "Warmed up quick."

  "Supposed to rain this weekend, though." She held up several blades of grass and let them go, watching as they floated away in the breeze.