One of the Boys (New Jersey)

by Janet Dailey

  "No one's allowed in there!" Dane snapped the order before he saw it was Pet inside the van. "What are you doing?"

  "I know what's wrong!" She stopped the tape and pushed the rewind button.

  "You know what's wrong, do you?" he mocked. "What's wrong is you haven't kissed me hello."

  "I was talking about the tape." But she quickly brushed her lips across his mouth and grabbed hold of the hand that reached out for her. She pulled him inside, too excited by her discovery to be put off by his impatient look.

  "What about the taping? There aren't any problems," he denied as he crouched to keep from bumping his head on the van's ceiling.

  "Charlie mentioned at lunch that you weren't pleased with what you had, but you couldn't find anything wrong with it. I got curious and since I didn't have anything to do anyway—"

  "You decided to snoop," he concluded.

  "It isn't snooping," she protested. "I work on the production, too. There's nothing wrong with wanting to see the results." She was kneeling in front of the tape player, anxiously waiting for it to finish rewinding.

  "I've looked at those tapes fifty times. I'm taking what we've got, Pet. Let's not waste time looking at them again." Dane slid his hand across her stomach to hook her waist and attempt to draw her back to where he was sitting on the stool.

  She pushed his hand away. "But I know how you can improve it." The tape had finally stopped rewinding and she could punch it up on the monitor.

  "I happen to be an experienced director. Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?" There was a thin thread of anger in his incredulous question.

  "Be quiet and throw your manly pride away." Pet flashed him an irritated glance. "You could listen and give me a chance to explain my idea."

  "I'll listen." He sat back on the stool, folding his arms in front of him and looking anything but open-minded.

  "You could give me credit for knowing a little about what I'm talking about, instead of acting so damned superior," she retorted.

  His mouth twitched. "Didn't I tell you once how to shut me up if I was making you angry?"

  "The problem is that you've made me too angry to do it. If I kissed you, you'd like it, then it wouldn't be a punishment," Pet reasoned in a thinly impatient tone.

  Pivoting on her knees, she turned to watch the screen, which put her back to Dane. His hands closed firmly on her shoulders to draw her back to rest against his legs. Lifting the weight of her hair, he gently draped it over her shoulder.

  "Then sit next to me, because that will definitely be a torment," he gently mocked. When she turned her head to look up at him, regret for her sharpness flashing in her green eyes, his finger pushed her chin toward the screen. "Show me what you found."

  "You were experimenting with camera angles," she began as the first take was being played, minus the sound since it wasn't a problem. "But it's the elevation that's wrong."

  "The elevation?" By his tone she could tell that this hadn't occurred to him and his mind was racing in examination of the tape the same way hers had.

  "Yes. Charlie should be up high and shooting down; up about five feet, I would say. Maybe smear some Vaseline around the circumference of the lens so the outer edges of the picture will be in a kind of dreamy focus. And here—" she drew attention to the particular sequence "—where Ruby does that half turn to the right, Charlie should make a half turn to the left—sort of a sweeping arc with the camera to give that illusion," she explained with growing enthusiasm. "It will be tricky. Some sort of ladder or scaffolding."

  "I wonder where I can get a crane," Dane mused.

  "It's obvious that would be best, but there's the time factor, and the delay it means. I think you can rig something up—Charlie's good at that kind of thing. And here—" another part came up that she had an idea for "—the camera could swing a little bit in tempo with the music."

  Turning, she found Dane was leaning forward to watch another take, visualizing her ideas in place of the ones that had been used. His expression was a study of concentration and inward reflection. She nibbled at her lip, anxious for his reaction and certain it had to be positive.

  But, there was only silence that lasted through two more takes. Unable to wait any longer, Pet unconsciously swayed against him and laid a hand on his thigh, her fingers curling into the hard flesh. She was immediately the recipient of his glance.

  "What do you think?" she asked.

  "I think you pick the damnedest times to touch me." His eyes glinted with a wicked, dancing light before directing a glance out the open door to a crewmember approaching the van. "And I think you do it deliberately." His hand closed warmly over hers and moved it to a more discreet location near his knee.

  A hot wave of color flooded her cheeks, but he wouldn't let her look away from him, holding her gaze with some invisible thread. Pet was jolted by the intimacy of the moment—an intimacy that didn't rely on a kiss or a caress, but could be accomplished with a look.

  "In answer to your question, you've come up with the solution," Dane admitted. "I doubt if we can achieve that pirouette shot unless Charlie is directly above her."

  "We're all set up for the next number, Mr. Kingston," Rick announced, pausing at the open door of the van. "Are you coming? I'll bring the new tape Charlie wanted."

  "I'll be there in a minute." He opened the storage cabinet to take out a clean cassette tape. "Here." He tossed it to the man, then began uncoiling his length to maneuver himself out of the cramped quarters of the van.

  Pet followed him out, hopping the last foot to the ground, a hand on the door frame for balance. "Do you admit that I did know what I was talking about?" she asked in half challenge, her green eyes sparkling at his previous arrogant skepticism.

  Dane paused, running his eyes over her in dry amusement. "I admit it. Now why don't you suggest how I'm going to convince Miss Gale to do that number again without arousing her temper?"

  "Keeping her happy is strictly your department," she retorted, conscious that Rick was dawdling on his way back to the location, remaining within sight of them.

  Dane was aware of him, too. His hand stroked her hair, then traced the clean line of her jaw to her chin, where his fingers outlined her lips. The sensual caress started her trembling.

  "Aren't you sorry you didn't kiss me when you had the chance?" He tapped the end of her nose with a finger, an affectionate reprimand for her stubbornness. Without waiting for a reply, he walked after Rick.

  Pet sighed.

  Chapter Ten

  ATLANTIC CITY is famous for its beach and the magic of its street names—Boardwalk, Ventnor Avenue, Baltic and Oriental Avenue—familiar to every child who has played the game of Monopoly, its creator having taken the names from this city's streets. The Miss America Beauty Pageant is held at Convention Hall on the Boardwalk, which now boasts gambling casinos.

  The whirring reels and clanging bells of the slot machines dominated everything. At the tables, the voices of the gamblers and dealers seemed almost muted in comparison to the din of the machines. Pet followed Charlie as he elbowed his way through the crowd of guests eager to part with their money. Coins clattered into a metal tray and a woman shouted excitedly to her husband.

  "It's really something, isn't it?" Charlie shook his head.

  Pet laughed at his seeming disdain. "Five minutes after you put your things in your room, you'll be down here and you know it!"

  He grinned suddenly and let his hand find her elbow where the crowd thinned, enabling them to walk together. "Don't tell Sandy. She'll have my hide," he said, referring to his wife.

  "I won't," she promised.

  "I'm hoping she'll be so glad to see me that she won't even know I'm a few dollars broker than when I left." He pushed the "up" arrow on the elevator. "I need some relaxation after these last three days. I thought Ruby was going to bring down the whole town with that screaming fit she threw when Dane told her we were going to reshoot that first segment. It was a great idea you had, Pet. It work
ed like a charm once Kingston talked her into it."

  "I saw the tapes. It did look great," she agreed, but didn't comment on the star's outrage over being asked to do the number again. Nor did she want to know too much about Dane's role in changing Ruby's mind.

  "What are you going to do after you get your things in your room?" Charlie stepped aside when the elevator doors opened, and let Pet walk in ahead of him.

  "Shower, then probably grab a sandwich." She supposed Dane would be busy that evening. She had seen practically nothing of him the past two days.

  "I'm hungry, too. We could eat together, if you want. It would keep my money in my pockets a little while longer," he grinned, and pushed the floor number for his room. "What floor for you?"

  "The next one." One floor above him—Dane's travel arrangements again separated her from the male members of the crew.

  "The place was probably too crowded for all of us to be together," Charlie offered his own explanation. "I'm surprised we're even booked into the same hotel as the casino."

  "Dane probably didn't want to provide us with any excuses for being late," she shrugged.

  "About the sandwich?"

  "Sure, we can eat together." It was better than eating alone. "Where do you want to meet?"

  The elevator stopped at his floor. "Why don't I just stop by your room in half an hour?" he suggested. "It will be easier than trying to find each other in that madhouse downstairs."

  "Okay, but make it forty-five minutes. I want to wash my hair," Pet explained hurriedly, and he waved an acknowledgement before the elevator doors closed.

  At the next floor Pet got off the elevator and found her room. She heard a phone ringing as she set her weekender bag down to unlock the door. Hurriedly Pet opened it, certain that the caller was Dane but the phone was silent when she stepped into the room. She wasn't even sure if it had been her phone that was ringing.

  Opening her suitcase, she shook out the uncrushable dress she had brought with her, the only one, and laid it on the bed. The taupe and beige dress was simple almost to the point of plainness, with button-tab roll-up sleeves, deep side pockets and a tie belt. After more than a week of slacks and jeans, it would be a pleasant change to wear a dress, Pet decided.

  She unpacked her makeup and shampoo from her cosmetic case and carried them into the bathroom. Forty-five minutes wasn't much time to shower, dry her hair and dress, so she left the rest of her things to unpack later, stripped and stepped into the shower.

  Her hair was lathered with shampoo when she realized the phone was ringing, the sound muffled by the running water of the shower. Grabbing a towel, she made a quick dash for the phone in the bedroom, leaving a trail of water and shampoo bubbles on the carpet. It stopped ringing as she reached it. She waited a few dripping seconds before returning to the shower to rinse her hair.

  It happened again when she was drying her hair with the blow dryer, the hum of the dryer blocking out the ring of the phone. Again the caller hung up before Pet reached the phone. If it was Dane, she was becoming thoroughly frustrated. She returned to the bathroom and finished drying her hair, shutting the motor off every few minutes to listen for the phone. Only it didn't ring.

  Not until she was brushing her teeth. With a mouthful of toothpaste she ran into the bedroom and stubbed her toe on the end of the bed. An involuntary cry came from her throat at the shafts of pain that stabbed her injured toe. She hopped the last six steps to the phone. This time she heard the line click dead before she could get the receiver to her ear.

  "Damn you, Dane Kingston," she cursed tearfully, then noticed the clock. It could have been Charlie, checking to see if she was ready early, she realized.

  The thought lent impetus to her haste to dress. Five minutes before she was supposed to be ready, she buckled the strap of her beige sandals and reached for the tie belt to knot it around her waist. At the knock on her door, she glanced at the phone. She would positively scream if Dane called her after she had gone. But how would she know if she wasn't there?

  The knock sounded more impatient. Sighing, she walked to the door while making the first loop in the knot of her belt. She was adjusting the trailing ends to hang smoothly down her side as she opened the door.

  "Where the hell have you been?" Dane demanded, striding inside the room and slamming the door shut. "I've been trying to reach you for the last forty-five minutes!" Pet's surprise turned to indignant shock at his raging demands that didn't permit her a reply. "I've called three times without an answer. The desk verified that you checked in more than a half hour ago. I finally called Charlie to find out where the hell you were and he told me you were on your way up here when he left you. I've been half out of my mind! Why didn't you answer the phone?"

  "Why didn't you let the damned thing ring long enough to give me a chance?" she hurled back at him with equal anger. "The first time I was just walking into the room. Then I was in the shower. And then I stubbed my toe trying to get in here because I knew it was you! How dare you yell at me, you arrogant, pigheaded—"

  "No." The one low word cut across her angry retort, his hard features unrelenting in their severity. "We aren't going to have another shouting match, not this time! I've waited too long."

  Seizing her shoulders, he jerked her against his lean, hard length. Pet straggled, resisting the appeasement of his bruising mouth, but she couldn't escape it. Twisting angrily within the steel circle of his arms, she beat at him with tight fists.

  The sheer absurdity of her actions finally struck her, holding her motionless for an instant. This was what she wanted, where she wanted to be. Her arms went around his neck, her body becoming pliant to his hands.

  The kiss that had been subjugating became deeply sensuous, and Pet returned it with equal passion, arching closer to him under the guidance of his shaping hands. His roaming caress excited her flesh, swamping her with the totality of her love, the sheer, sweet impossibility of it.

  When breathing was permitted again, she whispered achingly, "I've missed you so, Dane." The licking of his moist, hard tongue along her throat drew a shudder of desire.

  "I can't believe the way you can destroy me." He lifted his head to frame her face in his hands, fingers curled into the just-washed fullness of her hair. "When I walked through that door I could have strangled you for the hell I'd been through." Weary lines were etched in his tanned skin, the strain of long hours leaving their mark. A gentleness glinted in his dark eyes as a half smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Do you know this is the first time I've seen you in a dress?"

  "Is it?" she murmured absently because it, didn't seem all that important to her.

  "Of course, I've always been fully aware that you were all woman." He slid a hand down to cover her breast, letting its round contour fill his palm. "But it's an attractive sight to see you in a skirt just the same. Were you going somewhere?"

  "Didn't Charlie tell you?" Pet couldn't seem to drag her eyes away from his mouth with its traces of her lipstick. Those strong male lips could create such an upheaval in her senses. "We were going to have a sandwich together."

  "He's married," Dane stated.

  "Yes. He's just a friend," she explained in case he wondered. "I didn't want to eat alone." Hope leaped with an eternal flame. "Are you free? I can tell Charlie—" But Dane was already shaking his head.

  "No, I'm tied up this evening." He didn't volunteer any specific information as to whom he would be with or why he was wearing an evening suit and tie. "I wanted to be certain you'd arrived safely. I expected you an hour ago."

  "Charlie doesn't drive as fast as you do," Pet smiled, and tried not to wonder about his plans for the evening.

  His light kiss seemed to be a reward for not asking. "I want you to have dinner with me tomorrow evening, after the taping is finished. No one else. Just the two of us," he invited.

  "I accept." She let her lips tease his, "On condition that you don't take me where I need to dress. This is all I brought."

  "On t
he contrary." Dane returned the torment, rubbing his lips against hers while his fingers found her nipple beneath the bodice of her dress and teased it into erectness, "I'll take you somewhere that you have to undress."

  "You would!" Pet accused.

  "You bet." His mouth closed on hers, parting her lips to drink in her sweetness.

  A knock at the door brought the kiss to a lingering end. "It's probably Charlie," she whispered against his mouth.

  Reluctantly Dane let her go. "You'd better answer it. I have to leave anyway."

  Pet moved unwillingly out of his arms to walk to the door. Remembering, she half turned to warn him, "You have lipstick on your mouth."

  When she opened the door, Charlie had brought Lon Baxter with him. "I bumped into Lon in the elevator, so I invited him to join us if that's all right," he explained, and glanced past her to see Dane. "Hello."

  Pet glanced over her shoulder to see Dane returning his handkerchief to the inside pocket of his suit jacket. She supposed the two men would reach the obvious conclusion as to why he had needed to wipe his mouth. She would have been less than honest if she didn't admit she was a little self-conscious.

  "Hello, Charlie, Lon." Dane nodded to both men, but his gaze narrowed dangerously on the latter. Then he was moving alongside her, touching her shoulder lightly in farewell and smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow." An oblique reference to their dinner engagement.

  "Tomorrow," she promised, saying more with her eyes.

  The two men stepped to one side to let Dane pass, then Charlie raised a questioning eyebrow. "Ready?"

  "Just let me get my bag," Pet nodded, and went to retrieve it from the dresser.

  Nothing was said initially about Dane's being in her room, although Lon's gaze was often half-angry when it met hers. The conversation during their meal centered on the production, with Lon filling them in on what had gone on here while they were in Batsto. After the waitress had cleared their plates and served coffee, Pet took a cigarette from her pack and bent her head to the match flame Lon offered.