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“He was trying to be, but I don’t think Mr. Baldwin thought so.”
The sitter arrived and Jenna instructed her to make sure Janie was in bed by nine. It was a directive that wouldn’t happen. She kissed her daughter and left for her date.
****
Slouched once again in an Adirondack chair, Eric swigged down a beer. The sky had deepened to indigo, and the opalescent brilliance of a million stars sparkled against it. He threw his head back and emptied his mind of all thoughts except the stars. As he charted the constellations, a vision of Jenna smiling at Baldwin from across a candle-lit table sauntered slow and easy into the frames of his thoughts. “Fuck,” he whispered.
Eric hated Ash Baldwin the minute he saw the man, all pumped up like he’d eaten a double helping of steroids. With his close-cropped blond hair and white-blue eyes, he looked like someone who would show up at Central Casting when the call went out for Nazis.And the car thing, what the hell was that?Only a true dipshit would set the alarm in a date’s driveway.
Ina arrived home at ten and proudly announced she’d won a seventy-five dollar Round Robin. “I can finally get those leaky sinks fixed.”
“Ina, why don’t you let me pay for it.”
The elderly woman drew her mouth into a smile that revealed small, discolored teeth. “Why that’s right, I almost forgot. You think you’re a rich movie star.” The smile ripened to a hearty laugh. “Best one I’ve heard in years.”
****
Jenna and Ash dined at the Heritage Manor. Though she had been there before, entering the elegant foyer with him added an unnerving and familiar spin to the experience. A fawning greeting from themaître d’, and servile behavior from both wine steward and waiter reminded her of another time and another man—Alan Stark and life in Los Angeles. Both of which she’d rather forget.
Once Ash seemed to have had his fill of the bootlicking, Jenna enjoyed her dinner. She and her date engaged in light conversation and Ash never questioned her about “Mike.” It was later, while sipping dessertapéritifs,he laughed and said, “My sister-in-law thinks your friend is Eric Laine the actor. Comical, isn’t it?”
Jenna returned an uneasy shrug. Even to her own ears, her nervous chuckle sounded forced. “Comical,” she echoed the word back to him.
Reaching across the table, Ash lay his hand on hers, his thumb making a gentle pass along her skin. “I don’t mean to sound like a snob, but your friend doesn’t seem the type of person who would be in your circle.”
This was far from the first time someone voiced such an opinion of Eric and it still blistered. “I don’t exactly have a circle. But if I did, it would be wide.”
“No offense meant. It’s just that the man comes off a little rough around the edges.”
Jenna lowered her lashes and her eyes stayed closed for more than a blink. Rough around the edges was an apt description of the Eric she once knew. He ambled into her head as surely as if he’d stepped into the room—mussed hair falling over a sun-kissed complexion, work-worn jeans, and eyes, though soft and dreamy, that could easily flash danger. Ash’s hand, covering her own, felt noticeably soft and impotent.
“Where do you know him from?”
Slipping her fingers away, Jenna fiddled with her napkin. Outright lies had become a complication during her years of hiding, and sticking to shades of the truth made it easier to keep her stories straight. “I met him out west years ago, but we lost touch. I’m actually pretty shocked to see him here in Cromline.”
“What does he do?”
It was the standard question among the affluent, and again Jenna was truthful. “He was a bar-back when I met him, then a carpenter. I don’t think he’s working at all right now.”
Ash ran his fingers along his jaw and nodded as if satisfied. “Movie star, ha. I knew as soon as I saw him, Cheryl was mistaken.”
An easy breath spilled from Jenna’s mouth. She was familiar with the mindset of people who were rich. Ash’s ego clearly didn’t grasp the possibility of anyone else being successful enough to drive in his own lofty lane.
He was still laughing as he slipped his platinum card from his billfold and signaled for the waiter. “Eric Laine, of all people. Your friend probably has a good five inches on him. The movies always make actors look bigger than they really are.”
“I read somewhere that Eric Laine is actually pretty tall.” Jenna angled her lips into another lukewarm smile and damned herself for the impulse that made her rush to correct an unflattering, yet insignificant opinion of him.
Without looking at the check, Ash placed his card inside the vinyl sleeve. “They all lie in their biographies. Most movie stars are really pretty ordinary.”
“I suppose.”
As they were leaving the restaurant, the toadying manager rushed ahead to hold the door for them. At Jenna’s house Ash parked and walked her to the door. He set his car alarm. Gracious and polite as always, Jenna thanked him for a wonderful dinner. “I’d invite you in for a nightcap but it’s late, and I have a daughter who will have me up at dawn.”
“I understand.” Still, Ash lingered, drawing her into more conversation and slowly inching close. She offered her cheek as he closed in for a goodnight kiss. Though she’d expected a friendly peck, he pressed close, and a dry thickness plunged into her mouth.
The kiss was stingy, and he didn’t explore too deeply. He closed his eyes and made a low moaning sound as if he were giving her his most passionate effort. Jenna’s hands lay on his shoulders, but her own eyes remained open. She didn’t push him away, nor did she loop her arms around him to draw him closer. The kiss persisted, never wavering in intensity. It was a long and mechanical pressing of one mouth to another. It hadn’t repulsed nor impressed. When it ended, he gave Jenna a slow-eyed and lingering smile.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, and paced back to his car.
