Love's Last Chance

by Jean C. Joachim

  The crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled warmed Dorrie. Thirty and forty-four isn’t such a big difference. He’s such a handsome man. Archer took her hand and kissed it. The maître d’ pulled out her chair and handed her a napkin when she was seated.

  “Lovely as ever, Dorrie. How are you?” Archer trained his eyes on hers, after a brief glance at her nicely displayed cleavage.

  “I’m fine. How are you, Archer?”

  “Great. Been promoted. Sales are up, and I’m sure those gorgeous covers with your picture have a great deal to do with it.”

  “Those pictures are five years old.”

  “But they were timeless. Dressed in costumes, we could use your pictures again and again…and so we have.”

  “Undressed, you might say,” she quipped, then blushed when she realized what she’d said.

  “Beautifully undressed, I might add.” He took her hand and his eyes glittered with a touch of desire.

  A small tremor shot through her at his touch. When she relaxed, his slender, long fingers curled, lightly capturing hers. Her mind drifted back to the feel of his fingers on her skin, moving her hair or sliding a dress down slightly to be off her shoulder.

  His hands had given her goose bumps in those days. He had had her trembling with a simple caress, necessary to set up the shot. The way his eyes bored into hers or his gaze caressed her curves had made her hot and left her wanting more. But that was as far as it ever went. Above all else, Archer Canfield was a gentleman and a professional. Their relationship had had to remain business only.

  She sighed as the memories danced through her head. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, bringing her attention back to the present. The waiter stopped by.

  “Still white zinfandel?” Archer asked her.

  She nodded, pleased he remembered. He ordered a bottle and two glasses.

  “No more martinis?”

  He blushed. “I had one while waiting for you.”

  “I thought I was on time.”

  “Oh, you were. I was early. Needed a little something to get up my courage, I’m afraid.”

  “Is seeing me again that difficult?”

  He laughed. “My dear, not at all. Sorry if I gave you that impression. It’s just that…well, controlling myself. That’s the rub.”

  “Controlling yourself?” Dorrie cocked an eyebrow at him.

  He leaned over and brushed her mouth with his. “There. Perhaps that’s the best way to break the ice. I assumed, rather hoped, you wanted to see me for non-professional reasons?” He chuckled, a bit of color stealing into his cheeks. His lips were soft and warm. The scent of his aftershave was not too strong and only slightly sweet. Archer had no scruff, but a perfectly shaved face. Too old fashioned for stubble. Too proper.

  Dorrie was speechless. She sensed heat rising to her face. She’d wanted him to do that quite a few times before, but it had never been appropriate. She finally found her voice.

  “Personal reasons, you’re right,” she choked out as the waiter arrived and uncorked the bottle. He poured a bit for Archer, who tasted and approved it. After the waiter filled their glasses, they ordered dinner. Dorrie selected steak tips in a marsala sauce. Archer ordered fish.

  “That’s the same dish you ordered five years ago.”

  “Guess they don’t change the menu often. You have quite a memory.”

  “I remember everything about you.” He raised an eyebrow and shot her a lascivious look. Embarrassment washed over her as she recalled the session she did for the book, Dishonor with the Duke. She had been topless for the pictures. It had been her first time, and she had been shy, nervous, and embarrassed.

  Though the photographer set up the shots, Archer was there, front and center, even positioning her locks to hide most of her right breast. She took a swig of her wine to cover the silence. Her skin tingled with the memory of his fingertips, touching her ever so lightly, as he rearranged her hair. Longing to feel his touch again caused her pulse to jump.

  Wearing an enigmatic smile, Archer sipped his zinfandel and stared at her.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, my dear. You were the loveliest model we ever had. Who could forget your innocence and beauty?”

  The warmth of his stare relaxed her. He does have feelings for me. She inched her hand toward his, and he picked up on it, meeting her fingers with his. They sat locking looks and giving out small sighs until the waiter arrived with their food.

  Suddenly, Dorrie was ravenous. She tore into her dinner with a hunger she hadn’t experienced in days. Archer, too, seemed to be enjoying his meal almost as much as looking at her. His gaze always ended up at the same place, resting on her chest. Does he remember that shoot? Probably not as well as I do, but maybe.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” she managed, between bites of her superb steak.

  Now, it was his turn to blush. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid I’d get more like five to ten if you knew what I was really thinking.” His fair skin turned a becoming shade of deep pink, causing Dorrie to laugh. I’ll bet he was thinking about that shoot.

  “Dishonor with the Duke?” she whispered.

  “Good Lord. She’s a mind reader!” His face expressed mock shock, and they both laughed as Archer’s color returned to normal.

  The sommelier returned to pour more wine, and Dorrie began to relax. She had always loved being in the company of this charming, older man, and this night was no exception. His attentiveness and wit singled him out as superior to other men. Archer turned the conversation away from racy thoughts to their work lives.

  He elaborated some on his promotion and the good health of Moonlight Books. Dorrie told him about her accident and new career. She glossed over her failed engagement with a sentence or two, not revealing her intended was Gunther Quill or the reason for their breakup. Archer, always the gentleman, didn’t pry. She breathed a sigh of relief that he accepted her explanation at face value, with no further information required.

  “Dessert?” the waiter asked.

  Dorrie shook her head. “I’m full.”

  “You’re not modeling anymore, so why not? They have absolutely yummy desserts here. Gustaf, read her the list,” Archer instructed.

  Dorrie’s eyes widened at the mention of the sinful, warm chocolate cake with liquid center and whipped cream.

  “Aha! I see we have a winner!” Archer grinned.

  “Really, I shouldn’t.”

  “How about if I share? Then you’ll only be eating half.”

  She couldn’t resist and nodded with enthusiasm. Gustaf gave a short bow and left quietly.

  “You must feed this new figure of yours.”

  “You noticed?”

  “How could I help it? Quite an improvement…not that you weren’t anything but enchanting before…but this…uh…fuller…you…” he stuttered along, getting redder and redder.

  Dorrie laughed at him. “I see. You like a little more…um, meat on the bones?”

  “That’s it. Yes. You put it perfectly.” He let out a breath.

  “So do I. That’s a benefit of not being a dancer. I don’t have to be so skinny anymore.”

  “It suits you.” Again, his gaze slid over her body like a warm hand, causing a tiny shiver to race up her spine.

  The dessert arrived with two forks. Archer let her take the first bite. A dab of whipped cream stuck to her lip. He swiped his thumb over her upper lip to remove the cream then put it to his mouth.

  “Shame on me. Mother taught us never to lick our fingers, especially in public. Couldn’t help it.”

  The moment his finger touched her lips, she wished it had been his tongue instead. She closed her eyes to focus on the sensation, the pressure sliding across her mouth. They devoured the chocolate cake quickly, keeping eye contact. The temperature between them rose with every bite. Dorrie wanted him, wanted to be crushed against his slender, wiry frame, wanted to lose her inhibitions with him in a big bed with soft sheets and a plush comforter.

  A
rcher pulled his credit card out and placed it over the bill. With his other hand, he traced a finger down her cheek. “As sweet as ever. Dorrie, you’re a breath of fresh air.”

  And you’re still hot as hell with your civilized, formal ways, perfect shirts, and expertly knotted ties. Smoldering underneath, making me want to uncover the beast in you.

  “Thank you for the delightful dinner.”

  They walked out the front door.

  “It’s a beautiful evening. May I walk you home?”

  “Of course.”

  He closed his hand around hers and they strolled up Broadway, stopping to look in the shop windows and comment on the displays. Arch made witty remarks, and Dorrie giggled. After a few blocks, he drew her to him, and they continued the stroll with his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist.

  The sweetness of the night air, mixed with his aftershave, intoxicated her. Archer was no body-builder. He was lean. She liked his trim build and average height. What he lacked in muscles, he made up for in kindness and intelligence.

  “Do you have your own place while you’re here?” His question wasn’t very subtle. She chuckled to herself at his clumsy attempt to find out if they had somewhere to be alone.

  “I’m bunking in with a couple…old friends from before.”

  “Oh, I see. Very economical.” He nodded, but she saw the disappointment in his eyes.

  I also wish I had my own place so we could be alone. She sighed. As they passed a narrow alley, Archer stepped inside, taking her with him. He took her in his arms and kissed her. After joining her hands around his neck, she peered at his eyes.

  “You’re irresistible,” he whispered, lowering his lips to hers again. He angled his head to deepen the kiss. Dorrie opened her mouth to him, and their connection got passionate. His hands slid down her back, cupping her bottom, pulling her into him until there wasn’t a breath of air between them. She softened against him, submitting to his desire, wanting him.

  His hand traveled up to her ribcage and higher to cover her breast. A soft squeeze made her moan at the pleasure of his touch. He broke from her, kissing her neck and further down until his exploration was thwarted by the neckline of her dress. As if his internal flame was suddenly doused by a bucket of cold water, Arch straightened up and took a step back.

  “I’m so sorry. Inexcusable. I lost my head, I’m afraid.” His voice was soft and low but fire still burned in his eyes.

  “Sorry for what?” Her breathing slightly ragged, she leaned back against the brick wall.

  “For…taking such liberties. I shouldn’t have…touched you like that.” He cast his gaze to the ground.

  “I wanted you to.”

  His eyes widened slightly as they connected with hers. He raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

  Dorrie closed the gap between them, grabbing his lapels and pulling him to her for another kiss. This time, she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He responded immediately, crushing her against his chest. She lost her sense of time and place in the sensations his mouth and hands were creating. There was nothing for Dorrie but Archer Canfield and the heat burning through her veins as her need for him grew.

  “Eh, buddy. This isn’t the place for that stuff. Move along…”

  The would-be lovers parted, sucking in air. Glancing toward the street they spied a police officer, legs spread, hands on hips.

  “I’m sorry, officer. Of course. You are correct. Please beg our pardon.” Archer straightened his tie, and pushed the hair off his forehead as he stepped back into a shadow.

  Dorrie could barely breathe. She stared at the cop, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks. Smoothing down her dress, she returned to the sidewalk.

  The police officer nodded to the couple and went on his way. Archer and Dorrie stood for a second before joining hands and continuing to the Cunningham apartment. They stopped at the threshold. Angus tipped his hat and held the wrought iron door open.

  “How long will you be in New York? Can I see you again?” Archer asked, his voice low.

  “A few weeks. I’d love to see you again.”

  “Good. Let me check my schedule tomorrow, and I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll be rehearsing all day, so a text or email might be better.”

  “I hate those damn things.”

  “Gotta move with the times, Arch.”

  He chuckled. “I know, I know. Okay. I’ll get in touch with you one way or another.”

  “I had a fabulous time tonight.” She kissed him lightly.

  “Me, too.” She touched his lips before he turned toward the curb. He raised his hand and a cab stopped. She watched as the vehicle pulled away. A small sigh escaped her mouth as Archer was whisked away to his apartment downtown.

  “Good evening, miss,” Angus said.

  “It was a very good evening. Thank you. Goodnight.” She headed for the elevator.

  Drake and Chrissy were watching television when Dorrie let herself into the apartment.

  “How was your date?” Chrissy asked, while Drake froze the image on the TV screen.

  “Good.”

  “No lipstick. Must have been good,” Chrissy snickered.

  “Thanks for that observation,” Dorrie chuckled.

  Drake turned to face her. “Was it everything you thought it’d be?”

  “And more. I’m tired. Goodnight.”

  Dorrie toed off her shoes and padded into her room. After slipping her naked body between the sheets, she stared out the window at the full moon. If he wanted me that much, why didn’t we jump into a cab and go back to his place? Maybe he wanted to test the waters first. Maybe on the next date?

  She was ready to jump into bed with him. But will I get the chance? She fell asleep wondering about Archer Canfield, more questions without answers.

  Chapter Three

  At lunch, Dorrie checked her email and found a message from Archer.

  So great to see you last night. How about the theater? Will get tickets for whatever you want. Or maybe the Philharmonic? They’re doing Disney classic music. Sounds odd but might be good. Thursday?

  Archer

  She replied—

  Disney classics sounds like fun. Thursday works. Will rehearse until 7 so no time for dinner. Can I meet you at Lincoln Center?

  From Archer—

  Done! Tickets are ours. 8 pm. Can I take you out afterward? You can’t go without eating.

  Her response—

  Perfect! See you at 8. Thank you.

  She munched on a sandwich while talking with the cast. Chaz Duncan, the star, managed to get her alone.

  “Can we go over the part you’ve added?” He sipped on an iced coffee.

  “Sure. Now?”

  “Finish eating.”

  She took another bite of her ham and swiss.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “With friends.”

  “If you need a place, Megan and I have an extra room. Meg’d love to see you again.”

  “Thanks. So far so good. Are you bringing her to the shoot in L.A.?”

  “She goes everywhere with me.” Dorrie arched an eyebrow. “It’s not that she doesn’t trust me. We don’t like to be separated. She can work from anywhere, as long as there’s Internet access.”

  “That’s so sweet!”

  Chaz blushed. “Don’t go mushy on me.”

  “I’m sorry, but it is. Newlyweds sticking together like glue.”

  “How come you’re not married?” He sat back.

  Dorrie blinked. “That’s direct.”

  “Sorry. I’m too blunt sometimes.” Chaz hid behind his coffee cup.

  “It’s okay. Haven’t met the right guy. Well, maybe I have but didn’t know it.”

  “Mysterious...”

  “I’m reconnecting with a couple of guys I used to know here.”

  “Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Anyone I know?”

  “No one from the industry. Just…guys.”

  “Does this
mean you’re husband-hunting?”

  “What an awful term!” She made a face.

  “Strike two. Maybe I’d better shut up.” He chuckled.

  “I’m ready to fall in love…I think. Can’t force it, though.”

  “It hits you, somehow. Anyway, it did with me. Now I can’t be without her. Which guy is in first place?”

  She laughed. “It’s not a sport. And I haven’t seen them all yet.”

  “You’ve seen one? Two?”

  “Just one.”

  “And? Come on, give. Don’t make me worm it out of you.”

  “You’re such a gossip! Men are worse than women. I swear.”

  “Avoidance tactics won’t work with me. Give.”

  “I met with the first one. He’s great. We’re going out again on Thursday.”

  “A contender?”

  She nodded. Chaz rubbed his hands together. “This looks interesting. I might take bets. Three guys vying for your hand. Pretty dramatic.”

  “Nobody’s vying for anything. Not yet. I’m exploring.”

  “Exploring? Sounds sexy,” he snickered.

  “Chaz, don’t you have to practice or something?” Dorrie stood up and turned away to cover her embarrassment.

  “Okay, okay. Strike three. I’ll shut up. Can you show me that last step before I connect with the girl again?” She stood up and demonstrated it. Then Chaz followed her. Within ten minutes, the rest of the dancers drifted in and began stretching. Rehearsal got underway again, and Dorrie focused on whipping the young men and women into shape.

  By seven, everyone was exhausted. Before Dorrie could hit the shower, Chaz grabbed her arm. “Have dinner with Megan and me tonight.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Meg’s cooking.”

  “Isn’t this late notice?”

  “She won’t mind. I’m sure there’s enough food.”

  “Better ask her first.”

  While Chaz dialed his wife, Dorrie wiped her face with a small towel, and her thoughts turned to a mental to-do list for the show. Plug the hip-hop number again. Scope out the park site. Get Sam in line with Angela. Maybe switch partners?