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“I guess you’ve been too busy to notice anything outside of your little world.”
Kline watched between the two of them, wondering if he was going to need to step in to mediate the conversation, but Jill seemed to shake something off and laughed. “Oh, you know. Let’s see, last year I opened Devil’s Party and that was eight shows a week, and I did a special run on the West End with Phantom for four weeks. Now, I’m out here to take my role to the big screen. I’m going Hollywood. What’s the sitcom you’re writing for?”
“I’m the show runner for Simon Says.” Rhiannon supplied, bearing down on the title. “They brought me in to save the show.”
“That’s some heady stuff! You’re a sitcom superhero!”
Kline stood back and watched as his present and past dates nattered on with one another in a strange kind of pissing contest, completely forgetting he existed as they stepped away from the dance floor closer to the wall to hear each other better. He shrugged and tossed back what was left of his drink, drank Rhiannon’s, then signed a couple of autographs for the girls who had gathered around him. Apparently, it was after two and they were letting in a few from the street.
A quarter-hour later, he watched Rhiannon excuse herself from the conversation after getting Jill's phone number. There was a stiff hug and a European kissing of cheeks, and Rhiannon turned off toward Kline. Jill caught his eye and smiled a bit wistfully, then shrugged with her eyebrows and waved before turning back into the crowd to disappear.
When Rhiannon reached him, he was tactfully trying to decline what appeared to be a rather lascivious invitation from one of the scantily clad women at the bar. It was entertaining to watch her response. Once more, she walked up and linked her arm through his, forcing the bleached blonde tanning bed refugee to move slightly away. "Sorry, honey, no threesomes for Kline tonight. Check back with us on Friday, though, you might get lucky."
The girl's lips peeled away from her teeth in an unflattering sneer and she huffed, then changed tactics abruptly with a purr to Kline as she slipped him a card. "Call me."
She sauntered off and Kline laughed. "No threesomes? Damn."
"Not on the first date," Rhiannon scolded. "What kind of a girl do you think I am?"
"The kind that's just my type."
She laughed. "I would have thought I wasn't nearly tall enough--or blonde enough."
"Do I really seem that shallow?"
"Not in person."
He laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, willing himself not to look for Jill. Bird in hand, he repeated to himself. Bird in hand. "So?More dancing?Drinks?Go elsewhere? You're far too lovely to waste on an evening you aren't enjoying."
"Hm, well, there is this really great bottle of wine back at my place," Rhiannon said, thoughtfully, "and it is nearly last call."
"Are you inviting me back to your place?" His eyes danced as his lips curved up.
"You have to drive me home," she answered, "I may as well let you have a drink when you do."
"Fair enough," he said, guiding her through the crowd towards the door.
The air was cool outside, and he felt the shiver that ran up her spine as they waited for the valet to bring the car. "Cold?" he said, peeling his jacket off as she nodded and placing it around her shoulders. "That should help."
"Thanks," she said, gathering it around her. She melted into the fabric with a sigh, so Kline leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, fingers sliding up the side of her face to stroke a stray lock of her hair. He pulled back after a moment then said, "If I forget to say it later, this has been a great night."
Rhiannon smiled. Her eyes were twinkling like she was holding back a joke. Thad had said she was quick with the zingers. "It has," she agreed. "I'm really glad you called."
He nodded, turning in his seat and putting the car in gear. "So am I. This is the first proper date I've had in ages. I'd forgotten how good dates could be."
"Sometimes you get lucky, I guess. Take a chance and see how it goes," she said. "That's the best way."
"My dates are generally set ups. Roland, my manager, is always sending me off with some starlet or another. Generally vapid, wasteful, horrid things full of plastic. You are a breath of fresh air. How is it that Baddie Thaddie hasn't tried to tie you to his side?"
"I keep telling him no."
"Brilliant," Kline laughed. "He's accepting that?"
"In spurts."
"He really was aghast that you gave me your number."
"Oh, he's always aghast when it isn't his idea.”
