The Role of a Lifetime

by Jennifer Shirk

  A warm, tingly feeling spread to her bones and enveloped her as though he had wrapped his arms around her instead of simply kissing her hand. She swallowed hard and tugged back her hand, all her newfound playfulness suddenly gone. Even the simplest contact with him wreaked havoc with her insides. She doubted a friendship with him was possible now, but this was just going to be a light lunch—not some scene out of When Harry Met Sally. They’d be eating pizza, out in the open with her very own preschooler chaperone. Besides, she wasn’t so smitten she couldn’t control herself and have a pleasant afternoon with her daughter.

  She glanced at Hannah, who’d been watching their interaction with silent interest, and decided to end the show. Snatching her car keys off her desk, she jangled them in the air. “Let’s go, then.”

  “Thanks for helping me bring that thing in the house. But you really didn’t have to.”

  Ben poked his head around the gigantic yellow Care Bear he had locked in his arms. “No, I really had to,” he grunted, squeezing through her front door. “I would have felt terrible if you didn’t show up for work because you tripped and got pinned under this thing.”

  Sandra bit back a laugh. She didn’t know which was funnier, watching him try to carry the oversized stuffed animal, or watching him try to win it. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s covered under my insurance. That bear has health hazard written all over it.”

  Hannah struggled to free herself from her jacket. “He’s not health hazard. His name is Funshine.”

  Sandra smiled and walked over to help her daughter. “Maybe you should thank Big Bens again for winning that for you. After all, I think it cost him over thirty dollars worth of rings,” she added with a smirk.

  Ben flopped the Care Bear onto a kitchen chair and placed his hands on his hips. “Yeah, why didn’t you tell me that ring-toss game was a scam?”

  “Isn’t it common knowledge? You know, like how you’re not supposed to drink the water here.”

  He paled. “I’m not supposed to drink the water?”

  She laughed. “Oops.”

  “You know, you wouldn’t be so high and mighty if I took you out of your little New Jersey element.” He shot her a dangerous grin. “There are plenty of secrets we Californians have too.”

  “Oh, like what?”

  “Sorry, but if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He shrugged in a helpless gesture. “I don’t make the rules. I’m just thinking of your daughter’s welfare.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Sandra took off her sweater and hung it up. When she turned toward Ben again, their eyes locked. That’s when she realized that she actually had Ben Capshaw, the movie star, standing in her very own house—or more like her very own kitchen. Her tiny, suddenly cramped kitchen. She’d been having such a good time, she’d forgotten who he really was.

  “Mommy, I’m getting hungry,” Hannah said, dragging the bear to her toy chest.

  “Hungry? We just had pizza on the boardwalk.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “Uh, Sandra, it’s almost five o’clock now.”

  Her eyes shot to the clock on her wall. “Oh goodness. I can’t believe it’s so late. Time really flew, didn’t it? Well, I can heat up leftover meatloaf.” She paused, staring at Ben. “Um, I have more than enough if you’d like to stay for dinner—which you don’t have to. I just don’t want to seem rude and—”

  “That sounds awesome,” Ben said, quickly shrugging out of his leather jacket and making himself at home.

  Sandra bit her lip, again surprised by his willingness to stay. “I wouldn’t describe my meatloaf like that until you’ve tasted it. I don’t think it will be what you’re used to.”

  “I’ve only had one decent meal this week, and that was at my agent’s house. The rest has all been take-out. Believe me, it’ll be a good thing it’s not what I’m used to.”

  Hannah wandered up to her, waving a Care Bear DVD. Sandra took it from her and handed it over to Ben. “Would you mind popping that in for her?”

  He glanced at the title. “Cool. Haven’t seen this one yet,” he said with a wink. Then he strolled over to the DVD player, Hannah in tow.

  Sandra turned and searched her refrigerator, pulling out her meatloaf and a package of pre-made mashed potatoes. She took a quick sniff at the meat, and it didn’t turn her stomach. Always a good sign. Actually, it smelled pretty darn good. Her dinner wasn’t gourmet, but she did warn him fair and square.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed as she turned around and rammed into his chest. The man was almost catlike the way he was always springing up on her. It was unnerving.

  He took her by the elbows, steadying her. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “N-no,” she stuttered, feeling flustered all over again by his touch. “It’s pretty much all taken care of.” She quickly stepped away and placed everything on the counter. “Hannah’s been on a spinach kick lately, so I’m going to make that, too.”

  “She likes spinach? Is your kid too good to be true or what?”

  “No,” she said, smiling. “I just cook—or try to cook—a variety of meals. I serve vegetables at every dinner. Sometimes Hannah’s into them and sometimes she’s not. You know. I’m sure your mother did the same thing when you were growing up.”

  “Nope. I can guarantee you she didn’t. She had to work a lot after my dad died. So it was McDonald’s with a babysitter most nights. Then, eventually, no babysitter and I had to fend for myself to scrape up a meal. My agent’s all too aware of that, too. That’s why she kind of takes it upon herself to treat me to a home-cooked meal whenever I’m in town.” He shrugged. “It’s the mother in her, and why I’ll never get another agent.”

  She felt unexpectedly moved by his frankness. “Oh, I’m sorry about your dad.”

  “Don’t be. I was Hannah’s age, maybe younger, when he died. I don’t have any memories of him at all.”

  As Sandra placed the mashed potatoes in the microwave, her thoughts traveled to Hannah. Would she not remember Steve since he made no effort to be a part of her life? Would something like that affect her when she grew up? She had no idea. That’s why she always made excuses for his behavior, to make sure Hannah wouldn’t get hurt and always felt loved. Maybe she worried too much about stuff like that, but she was good at worrying—and had it been a major in college, she would have easily graduated summa cum laude in her class.

  She turned back around and wondered if not having a father had any impact on Ben. “That must have been hard on your mom, too. You know, being the sole supporter for her family. I can relate to that. That’s why I opened up the preschool in the first place. It was the perfect solution to my problem.”

  He leaned his back against the kitchen counter and raked her with his gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I really like having my own business and working with the kids, but it’s a special bonus I don’t have to put Hannah in daycare. She’s with me all the time now. Since her father and I divorced, I feel better knowing she doesn’t have to be separated from both her parents.”

  Ben looked hesitant. “Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that. So where is the…uh…ex?”

  “New York. For now,” she added.

  “I guess he visits Hannah pretty often, then.”

  “No—I mean sometimes. When he’s not traveling. He’d love—” She shook her head at herself. There was no reason to go through the effort of justifying her ex-husband’s behavior to Ben. “I mean no. Steve hardly ever sees her. In fact, it’s like pulling teeth to get him to acknowledge she even exists.”

  She heard Ben swear under his breath.

  “I didn’t tell you this to get your sympathy.” She was surprised how cold she sounded just then, but the last thing she wanted was for him to feel sorry for Hannah. “Look, I’m sorry. The situation is a bit stressful for me. I just want so much for Steve to appreciate and love Hannah as much as I do, and when he makes up excuses not to see her, it breaks my heart.”

  Ben didn’t comment, s
o she felt the need to explain herself. Sighing, she tucked her hair behind her ears. “When we were married, Steve said he wanted to wait to have children because of his career. Now I realize he wasn’t being entirely truthful about that. He never wanted children. At the time, I had no problem with waiting to start a family, but Hannah just kind of....well, thank God.” She dropped her gaze to her hands. “I later found out he was cheating on me anyway. So the marriage evidently wasn’t working, and Hannah’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  She stopped and glanced at Ben to judge his reaction. Being the actor he was, his thoughts were well hidden. She really didn’t mean to share so much. But he was a good audience. Even now he remained silent, intently waiting for more. It made her feel self-conscious. No man had ever been this curious about her before.

  “So you opened the preschool for your daughter,” he pressed.

  “Well, and to make a living, of course,” she said with a small smile. “I just didn’t realize startup expenses with a new business would take forever to end. I almost thought we’d have to close. Missy’s been working nights as a waitress and some weekends to help out with that though. That’s probably why she jumped at the chance to have you come here. She hoped the publicity and the check would ease some of the expenses we’ve had. I just hate to waste some of it on something as unexciting as a painter for the classrooms.” She sighed. “There are so many other plans I have for that money.”

  “You know, I could help you with that.”

  “Oh, no! No, that wasn’t what I was implying at all. I don’t want any more of your money. We’ll be fine. We’re perfectly capable of handling the expense. We’re—”

  “Sandra, I meant I’d help you paint.”

  “I beg your—?” She stopped herself when she saw him grin from ear to ear. “Are you kidding with me again?”

  “Not a chance. I’ve sworn off joking around with you, remember? I just figured since I’m here and all, we could knock out the classrooms together this weekend, if you want to.”

  She stepped closer and leaned her hand on the counter next to him. He smelled so nice. His cologne was subtle but just enough for her to catch its musky scent. “I do want some help painting. Very much. I’m just surprised that… You can paint?”

  “I wasn’t always an actor.” He shrugged and shot her a crooked grin. “Remind me to tell you about the summer I spent as a golf ball marshal.”

  “But why would you do that? I mean help me. I haven’t exactly been the nicest person in the world to you,” she said, feeling suddenly ashamed of how she’d first treated him.

  “This town doesn’t offer much. Maybe I’m so bored out of my skull I’d do anything for entertainment around here. And that includes painting.”

  She gave him a long look, not believing his gruff answer for a second, but nodded, holding her gaze to his. “Okay. Thank you, Ben. I mean that.”

  He didn’t reply with words but, in a heartening gesture, placed his hand on top of hers and smiled. For the first time, she noticed a small dimple in his chin. It made his good looks seem sort of boyish and innocent—like how she remembered him being this afternoon with Hannah, eating fudge and pretending to love the white horses on the merry-go-round just as much as she did. But Ben was hardly the innocent type, or even close to a domestic type. She wasn’t blind to all those magazine stories of him jet-setting around foreign countries with women years younger than herself. Yet, right then, in the confines of her house, with his face close to hers, he looked safe and approachable.

  She smiled back and watched as his gaze fell to her lips. For a split second, she thought he’d kiss her again—and if he did, she would be prepared this time, more than willing even. But he jerked himself straight and, with a few quick pats on the back of her hand, mumbled something about keeping Hannah company. Her heart dropped and, watching him disappear into the family room, she wondered if it was some cruel trick of fate being played on her.

  Why didn’t he kiss her?

  Oh well. It didn’t mater. She was sensible enough to know better anyway. Seeing him with Hannah today only made her wistful for the family life she wanted to have. But she knew Ben Capshaw was not vying to become a surrogate father and husband, and she half blamed Missy and even Carol for planting such wild ideas in her head.

  Brushing off her disappointment like the realist she was, she turned and resumed fixing dinner. Alone.

  She was almost used to it.

  Chapter Seven

  “Knock, knock.”

  Ben kept his eyes trained ahead and away from Hannah. He wasn’t in the mood for any of her knock-knock jokes. After ten rounds with a certain Jack Daniels yesterday, he was barely in the mood to breathe. But he summoned up enough energy to put his acting skills into overdrive and played deaf while he took his seat at the back of the class.

  Last night was rough. His own little personal hell. He was lucky to have gotten maybe three hours of sleep, which was surprising, since under sober circumstances he could give any coma victim a good run for his money. But every time he even attempted to close his eyes, he’d pictured a delectable blonde whose eyes reminded him of blue skies during the long, hot summers of the South of France.

  Even the alcohol he’d consumed couldn’t wipe out that vision.

  It was his own fault, having both lunch and dinner with Sandra yesterday. But he had to make sure her view of him wasn’t distorted beyond recognition. Ever since he’d met her, he’d done nothing but fumble every single interaction with her. The damage had to be repaired. His agent reminded him he couldn’t afford any bad publicity now. Therefore, it was important to get on her good side— be extra likeable, if you will—which was no real hardship, since Sandra proved to be likeable herself.

  Really likeable. Too damn likeable.

  She was smart and hardworking, which was one of the reasons he was so attracted to her in the first place, but she was also one funny lady. And man, the way she looked after her daughter, you’d think she was after Mother of the Year. The woman had it all, wrapped up in one beautiful, tight package. And worse—she didn’t even know it! As a result of that striking combination, he had a hard time resisting the need to touch her again and almost went against his agent’s wishes. Almost.

  Thank God he had some sense in that pea brain of his. Oh, really? You just told me your husband was cheating on you? Well, as riveting as your story was, I’m having a hard time thinking about anything else besides thrusting my tongue in your mouth. So how about it?

  Yeah, she might have gone for that. Talk about your poor timing.

  It was just as well. His agent was pretty adamant, and that movie deal Denise was working on could be a big break for him. He wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize that. He had worked too hard to get where he was. Nothing was as important. How could his job not be important? Growing up, he’d learned that playing make-believe could solve any problem, entertain any mood, and—when his mom was gone for long hours at a time—combat all loneliness. Acting became his life, which was why he was so damn good at it.

  He squeezed his eyes closed. Okay, what he needed to do was block Sandra from his mind—or at least picture her with a mustache and an extra two hundred pounds—then he could pull himself together, concentrate, and start creating some character traits for his role. Most of all, if he was going to be ready for this part, he needed to focus on the task at hand and start acting like a father.

  “Um, excuse me, I said knock, knock,” Hannah said.

  Just not this soon.

  Ben’s fingers dug into his jeans. His mouth felt as if he’d been gargling with sawdust, and he wanted his head to get its own zip code. Couldn’t Hannah see the Do-Not-Disturb sign emanating from his aura? Besides, the last thing he needed this morning was to gaze into her sky-blue eyes and think of Sandra all over again.

  Seeing no other choice aside from spontaneous combustion, he opened his eyes and looked down. “Who’s there?” he said with a sigh.

&
nbsp; “Choo-choo.”

  “Choo-choo who?”

  “Train,” Hannah said, beaming up at him with tiny white teeth.

  “Train? That’s it? That’s the punch line?” He shook his head, causing his headache to worsen. “You need to work on your delivery, kid, because as it stands, that joke is not funny.”

  She giggled. “Yes, it is.”

  “Trust me, it’s not.”

  “My mommy laughed at it,” she protested.

  He gave in to a grin on that one. Of course Sandra laughed at it. She was a good mom. Something he could appreciate, especially if it meant laughing at an awful joke like that. “Yeah, well, then I’m wrong. It must be funny. Mommies always know best.”

  Hannah nodded, looking pleased, then skipped back to her desk.

  Despite how sick he felt, his grin lingered. That kid was all right. Special. Anyone with two eyes and half a brain could see that. So what kind of a jerk-face father did she have anyway? Ben was hardly the parental authority to be pointing fingers, but what kind of guy wouldn’t want a little girl like that and be proud she was his? Obviously, the same kind of jerk-face who didn’t want Sandra as a wife—not that Ben was in the market for that either. He was well aware of his limitations. Acting as a husband and father was one thing, but being one for real required different groundwork all together. Remaining true and faithful to one woman and being a role model for a little human being were not his fortes. Acting was. It’s what he knew best. And once his career was back on track and he had an Oscar in his hand, it’s what would make him happy.

  He was almost sure of it.

  “Oh, my goodness!”

  Ben’s head snapped up at Missy’s strangled cry. Stars flashed across his eyes, and he bit down on his lip from the shooting pain. As his hands swung up to keep his brain together, he wondered why he hadn’t stayed in bed. He cursed his own stupid stubbornness.