Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two)

by Miranda MacLeod

  “The show was brilliant. Congratulations!” Cecily planted an enthusiastic kiss on Rorie’s lips. “I can say that, right? It’s not bad, like saying good luck?”

  “No, I’m pretty sure you can’t jinx the show once it’s done,” Rorie said with a laugh.

  “Oh, right. Good point.” Cecily giggled, more from a sudden attack of nerves than from her lame joke. “It really was fantastic, though. Your set design was so professional—you’re definitely going to get hired as soon as we get to New York.”

  “New York? You’re really coming with me?” Rorie held her at arm’s length and cocked an eyebrow. “Properly, though. You’re not still considering that crazy scheme to file for graduation and trick your parents into getting us an apartment, right?”

  Cecily shifted her gaze downward for the briefest of moments, hoping Rorie wouldn’t see the disappointment in her eyes. For all the grand plans she’d set in motion, part of her had hoped up to this second that Rorie would change her mind about that. It would be so much easier on them both. “No, of course not. But let’s talk about that tomorrow, before I go to the airport.”

  “Airport? I thought you were heading home. Baton Rouge is a two-hour drive. Even the DuPont family doesn’t fly for that.” Rorie eyed her suspiciously. “You’re not still going to Connecticut, are you?”

  “Technically, yes.” Cecily flinched at the judgment she saw in Rorie’s eyes. “But not why you think. Not to see Chet. I did call him, by the way, and he’s well aware we’re broken up, so it’s not as bad as you imagine. But my father and his father have business to conduct, so I’m kind of stuck.”

  “I don’t like it,” Rorie sulked. “What if Chet decides he wants you back?”

  “So what if he does?” Cecily tamped down a nervous flutter inside. She knew both his parents and hers would be lobbying hard for exactly that outcome, but she was determined to resist. “I would never go along with it. Do you think I like this any more than you do?” Cecily’s lower lip extended to a pout. “Especially since I won’t be here to give you your Christmas present.” Cecily’s sulky expression transformed to a devilish grin. “Maybe you’ll just have to open it early.”

  “You didn’t have to get me anything, Ci—” Rorie swallowed the rest of her protestation as Cecily guided her hand to the knot on her robe, leaving little doubt what her present was meant to be.

  Without breaking eye contact, Rorie tugged at the knotted belt until the robe fell open. Cecily's shoulders shimmied and the robe slid to the floor. Rorie’s eyes widened, glowing in that magical way that sent shivers up and down Cecily’s spine.

  “There’s nothing under there,” Rorie breathlessly pointed out. “Have you forgotten your rules?”

  Cecily flushed. “I may have decided to change the rules.” She trembled as Rorie gathered her naked body into her arms.

  “Are you sure?” Rorie asked, sounding almost afraid that Cecily would say no.

  “Completely,” Cecily assured her, then covered Rorie’s mouth with her hungry lips.

  Cecily watched in a daze as the curtain came down after the final act, muffling the roar of applause from the audience. I survived! She let out a shaky breath. I might even have been a little bit—good.

  There had been a few mistakes, of course. One or two missed cues, forgetting the blocking and wandering into a dark spot on stage. But the audience had been forgiving. And even more remarkable, almost everyone had stayed. Cecily had expected the auditorium to empty out once they heard that Bailey was ill, but the seats had remained filled. No doubt they're waiting for an update on Bailey’s health. As she left the stage and entered the green room, she was as curious as the audience to find out how the star was doing.

  Any real concerns dissipated the moment she spotted Bailey, still moaning and sipping a can of ginger ale through a straw, clearly in her element as an adoring crowd gathered around the sofa where Bailey held court. Cecily realized she would be hard pressed to get her attention if she tried. An update could wait, as it was obvious from the looks of things that Bailey would live. Cecily’s next priority was finding Rorie.

  She found her in the dressing room, as promised. She was sitting in front of the lighted mirror, surrounded by the roses Phinn had sent Bailey, and half a dozen empty latte cups—this was Bailey’s dressing room, after all. Despite the afterglow of success, Cecily would be happy to give it back to her, latte cups and all. She caught Rorie’s eye in the mirror, and dove into her arms as she turned.

  “You were outstanding!” Rorie said in greeting, after delivering a kiss that would have made Cecily’s knees wobble if she hadn’t already been sitting in Rorie’s lap. “Here, this is for you,” she added, handing Cecily a single red rose.

  “Did you steal this from Bailey’s bouquet?” Cecily mock-scolded her.

  “The least she can do is spare a flower for you, the little idiot.”

  “That’s not nice. Poor, sick little thing. It isn’t her fault.”

  “You won’t say that when you hear.” Rorie gestured toward the discarded latte cups, shaking her head. “See these?”

  “Don’t tell me one of Phinn’s fans slipped something in her coffee!”

  Rorie shook her head. “Nothing nearly so dramatic. Bev was working the ticket office tonight, so she put another intern in charge of keeping Bailey floating in fancy lattes from the place across the street. Only she failed to mention that Bailey only drinks soy lattes, and apparently Bailey didn’t notice the difference, even after drinking six of them.”

  Cecily scrunched her face in confusion. Had the intern poisoned Bailey?

  “Bailey is lactose intolerant. Severely, apparently.”

  Cecily burst out laughing. “You mean to tell me I had to go on stage tonight in front of half of Connecticut because a few ounces of whole milk gave our star a tummy ache?”

  “Pretty much,” Rorie responded, joining in the laughter. “But you really were magnificent. I’ve never been so proud. You could’ve been a star. I’ve worked with a lot of them over the years, and you blew them all away tonight.”

  Cecily dismissed the compliment with a demure wave, knowing it wasn’t true. These past few months—her time with Rorie, her brush with fame—seemed to offer a tantalizing glimpse of what her life could have been, but she knew it was an illusion. In reality, she’d always known she was too ordinary to be a star, that she’d never fit into the worlds of Hollywood or Broadway. The life she’d chosen instead was reliable and predictable, and she’d be back to it all too soon.

  She felt the weight of sadness pressing on her heart. Being with Rorie again had been magical, but right now it felt like a fairytale clock had its hands poised at a minute to midnight. Rorie would soon head back to her real life in Hollywood, and Cecily would turn back into an unhappy suburban pumpkin.

  “We should do something tonight. Go out somewhere, maybe.” Cecily didn’t care where, she just didn’t want to go home.

  “Out? You mean where people could see us together?” Rorie asked. “Has conquering stage fright made you that bold? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

  Cecily shot her a look. “I’m not that bad. I was perfectly willing to sit with you tonight and drink champagne, even though half the town was in the audience and could’ve seen. I might’ve even kissed you. Well, once the lights went down.”

  “I guess we’ll never know.”

  Desperation bubbled close to the surface. “I don’t even care what we do. This might be our last night before you leave. I just want to be with you, and I don’t want to go home tonight.”

  There was something in the way Rorie looked at her that suggested she’d been thinking the same thing. “I might have an idea. I just need to make a phone call.”

  Cecily felt giddy, wondering what Rorie had in store for them. She’d meant what she said, it didn’t matter to her what they did. She just wanted their time together not to end. Not tonight, or soon, or at all. She’d tried to bring it up when they were waiting
for the show tonight, tried to discuss her upcoming departure with her, but Rorie had responded with a joke. At least Cecily thought it was a joke. Does she really think it’s good that she’ll be gone soon? They’d been interrupted before they could discuss it more. Would Rorie be open to some solution to continue seeing each other? Or had she meant what she said, and just wanted to get home, back to that angst-free life in California?

  “You ready?” Rorie asked, poking her head through the open doorway a few minutes later. “We can stop by the green room to check on Bailey before we go.”

  Cecily nodded, grabbing her purse. As they stepped into the hall, she heard a shrill, familiar voice. Polly. It echoed loudly in the green room, causing her stomach to clench. If Polly was there, Amanda certainly would be, too. They were the last two people on earth she needed to see tonight.

  “On second thought,” Cecily said, turning in place. “This way is faster. I’ll check in with Bailey another time. Sounds like she still has a crowd in there.”

  Cecily felt a stab of guilt at the look that crossed Rorie’s face. Clearly, Rorie had heard Polly’s voice too, and knew why she’d changed direction. She knew Rorie was disappointed in her for being afraid of Polly and Amanda. She probably thought this had to do with them being seen together, and it didn’t. Not this time. It was more that Cecily knew those women, and they had a way of ruining any happy moment. She’d won a huge personal battle, and was celebrating it with the person she loved most in the world. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of casting a shadow over that.

  “Where are we going?” Cecily asked as she settled into the passenger seat of the car.

  “Manhattan, but that’s all I’m going to say because I want you to be surprised. Don’t worry, though. It’s very private, so no one will see us there,” Rorie teased.

  “It wasn’t a requirement, but I won’t pretend not to be glad. If this is the last bit of time we have together, I don’t want anyone but you.”

  As they drove along the highway toward the city, Cecily closed her eyes and hoped the solution to this impossible situation would come to her in a dream.

  Chapter 25

  The pulsing sound of a pager woke Cecily from her sleep. She stretched and felt the slipperiness of cool sheets over her bare skin, and her heart skipped a beat. She was naked, and for a moment she couldn’t remember why. And then it all came flooding back in a tidal wave of sensation that rocked her body to the core, of Rorie’s hands and lips and fingers, of their bodies joined and intertwined. She wondered if it was possible to have an orgasm just from a memory.

  Until last night, she hadn’t known it was possible to have an orgasm during at all. That is to say, she’d thought she understood what one was, and that it was by nature elusive and fleeting. Last night had proved her wrong on a very fundamental level. Repeatedly. She’d never been so pleased to discover she’d been mistaken about something.

  The pager pulsed again and she checked the number. As she’d expected, it was her mother. She stretched and rolled again, and this time drifted into an oasis of warmth as she brushed against Rorie’s warm, naked flesh. She’d found heaven and never wanted to move again, but she knew if she didn’t call her mother back soon, the situation would escalate. Her parents knew where she was, of course. They had paid for the room. But obviously they assumed she'd slept in it alone. The last thing she needed was for them to gain too much insight into that situation before she was ready. That would definitely happen if her mother called the front desk and ordered them to send some unlucky bellboy up to bust down the door and fetch her.

  Groaning, she rolled out of bed and snatched her discarded robe from where it had landed several hours before. She shrugged it on and wandered into the small living room of the suite to look for the phone. Rorie was still sound asleep in the bedroom and Cecily didn’t want to wake her. She dialed her home number from memory and held her breath as it rang.

  “Cecily, is that you? It’s about time.” Her mother’s voice chided through the receiver. “You’ll need to head for the airport in twenty minutes.”

  Cecily felt her heart catch in her throat. “Twenty minutes? I just woke up!”

  “Chet’s father arranged for us to fly into Stamford on the Parker Corporation jet. They had a schedule change, so we need to be flexible, which is something you’ll learn soon enough as Chet’s wife. Twenty minutes,” her mother repeated, and then there was a click as she hung up the phone.

  She felt bile rise in the back of her throat, making her gag. ‘Fat chance, Mother. I’m a lesbian’ she’d wanted to shout. But her mother was gone before she could, and it wouldn’t have been the most prudent choice, anyway, so that was probably for the best. She would know soon enough, after Cecily sat her and Daddy down for her Coming Out talk. She’d learned that term, ‘coming out’, from Rorie. At least, she was pretty certain that’s what it was called, although she wasn’t sure if it applied. Did falling in love with Rorie make her a lesbian? She didn’t know. She still found men attractive, at least she was pretty sure she did. Just nowhere near as attractive as Rorie. And was what she felt for Rorie something that she could ever feel for any other woman? She couldn’t imagine it, and it didn’t matter. She had no intention of finding out.

  Regardless, for now she’d stick with the word 'lesbian'. Her parents might be able to wrap their heads around that. Right before they called the lawyer to have her written out of the will. Her stomach lurched, and she took a deep breath to fight back a sudden wave of nausea. The thought of confrontation must have been more stressful to her than she’d realized. It was making her physically ill. It seemed like she’d been fighting back the rolling waves in her tummy for days.

  She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes left, and she’d better be prompt. Mother would have a fit if she was late. She tossed on a change of clothing and stuffed everything else in her overnight bag. Once she was ready to go, she tiptoed into the bedroom and crawled across the mattress, wrapping her limbs around Rorie’s sleeping form.

  “Rorie? Sweetheart?” she whispered, and felt a thrill at the sound of that word. She’d never called anyone that before, but it felt right.

  Rorie rolled onto her side and mumbled, still mostly asleep.

  “Sweetheart, there’s a change of plans. I have to go. Wake up so you can kiss me goodbye.” She felt Rorie’s arms tighten around her, and melted as their lips met. She reveled in the sensation of Rorie’s tongue sliding across her lips. She wanted to pull the covers over her and never leave, but she pushed gently against Rorie’s chest instead, creating a space between them. Without opening her eyes, Rorie rolled over and pulled the covers up around her ears.

  “Damn it, Rorie,” she whispered, “will you wake up?” But there was no response.

  The clock on the nightstand agreed with her watch. Time was up. With a sigh, she rose from the bed and headed to the door, stopping mid-stride. Rorie’s gift! She’d almost forgotten. She tugged the nightstand drawer open and grabbed the little box, setting it atop the pillow where she’d slept. She took the notepad and pen from the drawer as well and scribbled a few lines, which she placed beneath the box.

  ‘I’ll see you soon. I love you’ was all it said. But what more was there? The next few days would be tough, but she’d survive, and be back by Rorie’s side before the new year. Only probably in a smaller bedroom than this one, with far less expensive sheets. As long as they woke up together every morning, she couldn’t care less.

  She kissed the top of Rorie’s head.

  “I love you,” she whispered in her ear.

  Then she grabbed her bag and stepped into the bright hallway of the hotel as the door click shut behind her.

  The elevator dinged and Rorie stepped out into the hall, holding the black folding gate in place as Cecily passed through. Like the building itself, the elevator was over a century old and lovingly maintained. There was just one door in the hallway, as this building had only one unit per floor—almost unheard of in M
anhattan. Rorie had picked up the key from the doorman, and she slid it into the lock now. She turned they key and the door swung open wide to reveal a spacious living room with soaring ceilings.

  Cecily stepped over the threshold, her eyes as wide as saucers as she took it all in with obvious appreciation. “This is spectacular. Where are we?”

  “My friend Jeff’s apartment. He’s a producer in LA, but he keeps this place to entertain in when he’s on the East Coast.”

  “Oh sure,” Cecily said with a mock-shrug. “Who doesn’t keep a spare penthouse in New York City for parties?”

  “What, have I finally found something too rich for your blue blood?” Rorie laughed. “Well, we’re only five floors up so it’s not exactly the penthouse, but it does have an amazing view of the Empire State Building out the dining room window, and it overlooks Central Park, naturally. Apparently the apartment measures 3,287 square feet, and six inches.”

  “Wow. He knows the size of his apartment down to the inch?”

  “It's a guy thing,” she said with a snort. “But for what he must’ve paid for the place, I imagine he brought his own tape measure along, just to check. I would have.”

  Cecily circled the room, awestruck. It’s not that she was unaccustomed to wealth. She’d been around it all her life, but not like this. Her mother enjoyed spending money, but as a politician’s wife there were certain limits she had to observe for decorum’s sake. And Chet’s family was typical of old money families in New England. Her mother-in-law, Jackie, would just as soon stab someone and wrap their bleeding body in one of her threadbare oriental rugs as she would replace it with something new. After all, the right type of people don’t buy these sorts of things, they inherit them. It was one of the many areas in which Chet’s mother had found Cecily’s education lacking over the years and had seen fit to offer her guidance. It was also why her bedroom, sitting room, and the basement screening room were the only rooms in her house that felt like they truly belonged to her.