Oren turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. How was he going to work with Tillie every day? Could he convince her to start fresh in California? That slow smile which touched her lips when she caught him watching her audition gave him hope…until he remembered how coldly she’d received him at the diner.
After drying his face with a hand towel, Oren picked up the tumbler and spun it in his hand. The warm scent of fire clung to the crystal, taunting him with the promise of escape. He dropped it into the braided wire waste basket, where it landed with a clang. Now, he had to get rid of the rest of the scotch.
Oren returned to the main sitting room and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the decanter like he was throttling it. While it’d be satisfying to smash the bottle against the wall, he’d empty it into the bathroom sink instead. The resulting mess wouldn’t be worth the momentary release.
“How about that,” Oren muttered as he walked. Back in California, it would have been impossible for him to ignore all his self-destructive impulses. Maybe returning home had been the right move. Maybe falling in love had smartened him up.
A knock sounded on the door as he reached the bathroom. He set the decanter on the white porcelain sink and poked his head into the sitting room.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me.”
Tillie. Though the door muffled her voice, Oren recognized her soft, radiant timbre. He looked in the mirror, smoothed a hand over his hair, and left the bathroom.
***
To celebrate Tillie’s upcoming screen-test for Me and Juliet, Norma and Arlene had taken her out for dinner and drinks. When the night was over, all three actresses crammed into a cab. They yawned in the backseat, knowing they’d already stayed out too late. Norma and Tillie had to open the diner the next morning, and Arlene had an audition. Still, when the cab crept along 44th Street toward the Algonquin, Tillie tapped the cabbie on the shoulder and asked him to drop her off there.
She didn’t have a plan, any idea what to say, or any explanation for her spontaneous decision to stop off at the hotel. All she had was her desire to see Oren and make things right.
He answered the door in a wrinkled white shirt and a pair of dark pants. With parted lips and worry lines webbing his eyes, he didn’t look like the casually self-assured man she’d come to know.
“Tillie.”
The breathless quality in his voice weakened her knees.
“I would have called the hotel, but I didn’t know I’d end up here.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He stepped aside. “Please come in.”
Tillie entered the sitting room, recalling what had happened the last time she’d been there. The scene was regrettable, even if the memory of their almost-kiss had been in her thoughts ever since it happened.
As the door clicked closed behind her, Tillie spun to face Oren. “I want to thank you for getting me the audition.” She knitted her fingers together by her waist to quell her impulse to fidget. “I don’t know if you heard, but it went very well.”
“Indeed, I heard. Congratulations.” Oren motioned toward the sofa. “Please sit. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you.” Tillie thought of the two glasses of champagne she’d already had and pressed her hands to her warm cheeks as she sat. “I’ve had enough for tonight.”
“That won’t do.” Oren picked two intricately carved crystal tumblers up off the drink cart and flashed a hopeful smile. “You should be celebrating.”
Water sloshed inside the glasses as Oren filled them halfway. Tillie stood as he approached, and took the water he offered her.
“To new opportunities.” Oren raised his glass, folding his free arm behind his back. “And to your budding career.”
Quiet reigned as they clinked their glasses and sipped the tepid water.
Tillie tucked and untucked her hair from behind her ear. “Norma and Arlene took me out to celebrate. We had dinner and drinks. It was a blast.”
Oren swirled his water in his glass. “Where are they now?”
Tillie put her glass down on an end table. “In a cab, heading home.”
A smile touched Oren’s lips. “And, you’re not with them?”
Her stomach fluttered, and her response was barely louder than a whisper. “No.”
“Why not?” Hope lifted his tone.
Tillie tugged at the sleeves of her blouse. “I wanted to thank you for securing the audition for me. It's changed my life.”
“You could have just told me that in Hollywood.”
“There are other things I want to talk about before then.” Glancing at the door, Tillie considered excusing herself and agreeing to catch up with Oren when she landed in California. That wouldn’t do, though. Standing before him and preparing to bare her soul had knotted her stomach, but she knew had to do it, if she were to have everything she wanted. While she struggled to find her words, Oren held still in anticipation, his glass half-raised to his lips.
“I meant what I said last week. I’ve been in love with you since I was a little girl. I used to watch you boys play baseball in our backyard from my bedroom window. I scribbled Mrs. Oren Cooper in my diary more often than I wrote entries. I sat at the top of stairs when you came over to watch football, just to hear your voice.”
Oren blinked a few times. “I had no idea.”
“Of course not. I was just a little girl. You hardly knew I existed. But when you left, I was heartbroken. I’d still sit at the top of the stairs, but then it was to listen to our mothers talk over tea, in hopes you would come up in the conversation. I bought papers just to read your reviews while you were on Broadway, and then when you’d gone out to Hollywood, I watched all your films. I grew up, and I dated men, some of whom I loved, but I never stopped being infatuated with you.”
Oren took a step toward Tillie and settled his hands on her shoulders. “Tillie, I may not have felt this way for you since back then—”
She touched a finger to his lips. “Let me finish. I have enough confidence in my talent to know we’d meet again someday, but I never imagined we’d see each other as anything more than colleagues. Over the years, I’ve heard rumors about your affairs and I’ve seen pictures of you with beautiful, brazen women on your arm. I knew I could never be that kind of woman, so I thought you would never be anything more than my girlhood crush. Then we met, and you made it clear you were off the market, and my suspicions were confirmed.”
“Oh, Tillie.” Oren caressed her cheek. “I had it all wrong. Every woman I’ve been with since my first starring role on Broadway hoped to benefit from her association with me. You’re different than them. That was one of the first things I noticed about you when we ran into each other at Centerstage. Other than your pretty face and perky bosom, of course.”
Tillie’s face warmed at his compliment. She was unaccustomed to cavorting with men who would be bold enough to remark on her bodily assets. “How can I be different? I pretended to be your girlfriend to help my image.”
“Because I suggested it. I thought it was the only way I could have you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for being such a lily-livered coward. I promise my actions these past two weeks are not representative of man I am, or at least, the man you make me want to be.”
“And I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
“You didn’t, really. You just saw what I wanted everyone to see.”
Tillie’s heart thundered with such ferocity, she could feel her pulse in her fingertips. She’d been waiting for this moment for years, and, given their history, she feared one of them might do something to ruin it.
“How do you think things would have gone if we’d been honest about our feelings from the start?”
Oren closed the distance between them and angled his face toward hers. “I think this would have happened a lot sooner.”
His lips met hers with gentle, yet commanding warmth. This was it—the kiss she’d been dreaming of since she was old enough to dream of kisses. Lucki
ly, it did not disappoint. Feeling lightheaded, Tillie melted into Oren, trusting him to support her weight. Emotion overwhelmed her body with a tingling numbness she was certain had nothing to do with the champagne.
She parted her lips, and Oren brushed his tongue against hers. Clasping her hands behind his neck and pressing to her toes, she responded in kind. Their kisses flowed from one to the next, with no break in the rhythm for a sip of air, reminding Tillie of a song—something more akin to jazz than the melodic tunes her and Oren performed.
When her lips started to swell, Oren pulled away to hold her face in his hands. His cheeks were rosy and his breath short.
“Tillie, can I take you to my bedroom?”
She nodded, unashamed of what she wanted from him. His tell-tale bulge throbbed against her stomach, spurring her on with its heavy heat, helping her strip away the last of her inhibitions.
Oren scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. A large bed adorned with creamy ivory blankets and pillows dominated the space, inviting them with its vastness. Oren sat Tillie on the mattress and knelt in front of her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as he slid off each of her shoes and placed them along the wall behind him. From there, he ran his hands up her legs, teasing her with a feather light touch, until his fingers met her garters. He unhooked her hose before delicately sliding it from her calves.. Even the brush of his fingers made her quiver.
He continued to undress her, removing her skirt, blouse, bullet bra, and ruffled panties in slow, languorous movements. After he peeled off each garment, he took his time folding it and placing it on his dresser. All the while, his searing hot stare raked over her increasingly naked body.
Once he’d finished undressing her, Oren kissed Tillie with less finesse than before, his hands roaming her sweat-misted skin as his lips clumsily moved against hers. For her part, Tillie fumbled with buttons on Oren’s shirt to no avail. Eventually, he tugged her hands away and held her wrists as he guided her onto the mattress. When her head met the feathery pillows, Oren pulled away, leaving Tillie hungry for his touch.
Soft light spilled in from the cracked door, illuminating Oren as he undressed. The planes of his musculature bulged and stretched as he removed one article of clothing after another with far less finesse and attention than he’d used with her. Grateful for his expediency, Tillie wet her lips and prepared for his return to the bed.
Oren covered her body with his, melting into her until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. The crunching sound of sheets rumpling filled the room, though it was merely background noise to her rapid, persistent heartbeat. He slid inside of her with tenderness she hadn’t been expecting. Surprise flitted from her mind instantly, as euphoria nudged its way in. Each thrust of his hips drove her closer to her release, until her muscles contracted in pleasurable rhythmic bliss.
With a growl, Oren buried his head into the crook of neck. Her splayed hands held him there as they rode the final waves of their orgasms together.
All too soon, he rolled onto his back beside her with a laugh.
“What?”
For modesty’s sake, Tillie would have pulled the covers over her, but she couldn’t spare the energy to do so yet.
“After that, I can’t believe anyone would have the nerve to say you’re too innocent.”
EPILOGUE
“Thank you, ladies.” Tillie patted her elegant chignon as she led her personal stylists to the penthouse door. Typically, she liked to do her own hair and make-up, but she found it was often better to leave it to the professionals for special events, like the preview she’d be attending that evening. “As always, you’ve done a remarkable job.”
“It’s easy when you’re our canvas,” Edith, the woman responsible for the sleek chignon, quipped as she shuffled through the open door with two armfuls of equipment boxes.
“You’re too kind.” Tillie wiggled her fingers in farewell. “Thanks again.”
As soon as the lock clicked back into place, Oren came into the room. An untied black tie hung around his neck. “You’re all finished then?”
Tillie tightened the belt on her dressing robe and rolled her eyes. “Yes, dear. With that part at least.”
Oren moved to stand in front of a gilded antique mirror and began knotting his tie. “I miss the days when I could get ready for a preview in peace and quiet. I could hear those girls twittering from every room in this damn penthouse.”
“They’re harmless gossips who think I know the juiciest stories.” Smirking, Tillie perched on the arm of their sofa. “Mostly, they just ask about you.”
Oren barked out a laugh as he finished his final knot. “I’m sure they do. Maybe next time, I’ll stop by and hello.”
“I’m sure they’d like that.” Tillie slid off the couch. “What were you doing holed up in your office, anyway?”
Oren smiled and stepped aside when Tillie came up behind him to adjust his collar. “I booked our flights for the trip to New Jersey next week.”
Tillie pressed up her toes and kissed Oren on the cheek. “Thank you for doing that. It’s been ages since we’ve been back home.”
“We were there three months ago.”
With a sigh, Tillie rested her head on his Oren’s shoulder. “I wanted to come out to Hollywood and be a film star so badly, I never thought I’d miss home.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Are you ready to move back?”
The press badgered them often with questions about wedding bells and engagement rings. They always answered with the truth—they weren’t ready yet for this part of their life to be over.
Tillie glanced up at him through the heavy false lashes her make-up artist had just glued on. “No. But I do wish I got to see my nieces and nephews more often. Guy’s baby girl is darling.”
Last year, her sister-in-law gave birth to her fourth child. Because of their filming schedule, Tillie and Oren couldn’t make it out to meet the little girl until five months later.
“Just say the word and we’ll sell the penthouse, move back to Jersey, and have a baby of our own.” Oren looked around at their lavishly decorated living room. “Lord knows, we could afford it.”
Tillie patted his chest and lifted her head. “No. Not yet, anyway. I’ve only made three films—not quite the legendary career I’d always dreamed of.”
Oren had co-starred in all of Tillie’s motion pictures. People had started calling them this decade’s Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, only their real-life romance promised to make them more popular than their predecessors. If Tillie wanted a long career, she could have one.
“Good. I’m not ready to call it quits yet anyway.” Draping an arm over her shoulders, Oren led her to their bedroom. “Now, let’s get you dressed so we can get to this damn thing.”
“This damn thing?” Tillie scoffed. “You aren’t looking forward to the preview?”
“I am. But between the publicity for this picture and the filming for the next one, we hardly get to spend any time together. Just the two of us.”
Tillie nuzzled into his side. “It’s true. The only time we’re alone anymore is when we go to sleep at night. Let’s go somewhere before we come back from our trip home. We’ll stop off at a little, tucked away island for a day or two. Just you and me.”
Oren swept Tillie into his arms and kissed her. “That might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”
She laughed. “We both know I always have the better ideas. You’re the one who suggested our phony relationship, after all.”
Oren gasped in mock offense as he toed the bedroom door open. “I thought we agreed never to bring that up again.”
“Sorry, darling.” Tillie kissed his cheek. “I couldn’t resist the set up.”
They didn’t talk of their rocky start much, only bringing it up in instances like these—when one had the opportunity to make a playful jab at the other. Life had gotten busy after the fateful night they’d come clean in Oren’s Algonquin suite. Tillie flew o
ut to Hollywood to film her screen test, which the execs all loved. Oren hooked her up with his agent, who helped her land a few modeling jobs in New York while Oren finished his run on Broadway. For his part, Oren promoted Me and Juliet, knowing interest in the play would fuel interest in the picture—and vice versa.
Oren put Tillie down on the carpeted bedroom floor. “What dress will you wear tonight?”
She unzipped a garment bag hanging from her closet door and took out a white, cap-sleeved number with sequins speckling every square-inch. The couple’s publicist insisted on Tillie dressing in light colors—white, yellow, pink, and blue—to play up the youthful exuberance George thought would prevent her from ever landing a decent role. America loved the dynamic between the two —Tillie was the sweet and talented hometown girl Oren roguishly swept off her feet in a whirlwind New York romance for the ages. Rumors of a script about their love affair had been circulating Hollywood before they arrived. But nothing had come to fruition, yet.
“What do you think?” she asked as she held the dress up to herself.
“You’ll look beautiful in it.” Oren sat on a chaise at the foot of the bed and tugged on a shoe. “Then again, I think you’d look beautiful in a burlap sack. I don’t know how well that would go over with our publicist, though.”
“Are you kidding?” Tillie undid the belt on her robe, aware of Oren’s attention, as she always was. Somehow, someway, she always knew when he was looking at her—whether they were across the room from each other at a party with a sea of people separating them, or she had her back turned toward him alone in their bedroom. “Linda would be over the moon about the press a stunt like that would drum up.”
“Listen to you.” Oren finished tying his shoelace knot and stood. “You’re the one who’s supposed to keep things light in this relationship.”
Can't Buy Me Love Page 30
