Authors: Jean Joachim

Movie Lovers (7 page)

While the others cleaned up, Cara
and Jake left for the theater. After the matinée, the rest of the day seemed to
fly by. Wading through piles of discarded wrapping paper, cooking, and helping
to straighten up were always holiday activities in his house. This year he did
the same things with different people.
They’re
a family just like my family.

Grace and Cara’s obvious affection
for each other was the cement that glued them all together. While he dreaded
missing Christmas in Willow Falls, this had proved to be the next best thing.

That evening, he and Grace roasted a
turkey and added leftover side dishes from the night before to fresh stuffing
to make a mouth-watering buffet. Sarah was so worn out she lost her temper and
had to take a time out to calm down. Grace flitted from one family member to
another, perhaps to avoid him.

He packed up, thanked everyone, and
headed for the door at about ten o’clock. Grant and Cara were doing dishes, and
Sarah was in bed. Grace walked with him to the hall.
I don’t think I made any progress with her.
Disappointment
enveloped him like a gray fog. His shoulders sagged.

“Why so down? Missing your family?”
Grace leaned against the wall.

“Being with your family was almost
like being with mine.”

“They’re wonderful, aren’t they? I’m
very lucky,” she beamed.

“Yeah. I was hoping you and I…” Courage
failed him.

“You and I what? Didn’t used to be a
‘you and I,’ but maybe there is one now?”

Hope welled in his chest. “You
think?”

“Maybe.”

“Want to go out New Year’s Eve?”

“You don’t have a date for New
Year’s?” she teased.

“Do you?”

“I do now.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” His spirits
sank to the floor.

“With you, silly.” She chucked him
under the chin.

“Me?”

“Didn’t you just ask me?” She rubbed
his cheek lightly with her hand. “Ooh, I like you scruffy.”

“So that’s yes, then?”

“How many ways do I have to say it?
Yes. But I promised to babysit Sarah. Cara and Grant are invited to some fancy
shmancy
party. I said I’d stay with Sarah. You can come
over, and we can have champagne here. Would that be okay?”

“Hell, yeah! I’d much rather stay in
than go out on New Year’s anyway.”
Maybe
we can make love.
“Have to be after the show.”

“You’re performing on New Year’s?”

“Yeah. New Year’s Eve and a matinée
on New Year’s Day.”

“That sucks.”

“Not if I’m with you after.” He
combed his fingers through her silky hair.

Jake switched his hand to the back
of her neck, gently easing her toward him. He lowered his lips to hers. She
didn’t resist, but softened against him. Jake dropped his packages and scooped
her into his arms. Passion flowed through his body as he held her tight and
ravaged her mouth.

A soft moan from her throat told him
all he needed to know. He stepped back, his gaze seeking hers. He stared into
blue eyes smoky with desire. “I wish we were somewhere more private,” he
breathed.

The ringing of his cell ruined the
mood like a splash of cold water. It was Gunther Quill. “Merry Christmas,
Gunther. What’s up?”

“Did you see that scathing review of
Just In Time?
”

“I did. What a bitch! I’d love to know
who Movie Maven really is.”

“I was calling to see if you knew
who she was.”

“Nope. But if I find out, you’ll be
the first to know.”

“I’ll fix her. If I find out who she
is, I’ll ruin her. No one attacks Gunther Quill and gets away with it.”

“Let me know. I might like to take a
swing at her, myself.” Jake chuckled.

“Merry Christmas, Jake. And don’t
worry. We’re not paying any attention to her nasty review.”

“Good. Goodnight.” He closed his phone.
“Gunther actually thought I knew who the bitch is who wrote that awful review.
Wish I did.” He looked up to see Grace standing stiffly a few feet away, eyes
wide, face pale, frowning. “He sure spoiled the mood, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

“Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get it
back on New Year’s. You and I have chemistry to burn,” he whispered. He leaned
down to give her a quick kiss and felt how rigid she was. “You okay?”

“Fine. See you on New Year’s.”

“Yeah and at the theater, too
right?”

“Right.”

“Merry Christmas, Gracie.” Jake
turned and headed for the elevator, humming “Jingle Bells.”

Chapter Five

Black Magic
should be
titled No Magic. Yes, another time-waster. Mistaken identity and paranormal
elements left me yawning. The dialogue was the worst I’ve seen since…oh, yes,
last week!

Gracie wrote another nasty write-up.
Tiffany put it first among her reviews.

Research showed forty percent of
readers were heading straight for the column. Her agreement with Tiffany kept
her from posting each opinion on her blog, but she didn’t care. She was getting
paid, and the reviews were getting raves.

But the nasty comments were getting
harder and harder to write as she began to feel very guilty about ruining sales
for others in the same industry.
How
would I feel if someone wrote something like this about my movie? I’d be
crushed.
She tried to soften her sharp remarks but Tiffany rejected those columns
and refused to pay her.

By New Year’s, she had decided to
cancel her arrangement with Tiffany. But she was the only person who knew the secret
identity of the Movie Maven. Grace was afraid the cold-hearted editor would
expose her.
It was a dilemma.

She decided not to think about it on
New Year’s. She left the theater early to play a board game with Sarah before
the child went to bed. Grant was getting ready for the party. Grace had made a
few delicacies earlier in the day to share with Jake.

After reading Sarah a bedtime story,
Grace set out a platter with cold jumbo shrimp and cocktail sauce, egg rolls
from her favorite Chinese restaurant, stuffed mushrooms, and bacon-wrapped
concoctions from a secret family recipe. Another dish held giant strawberries
dipped in chocolate, cannoli, and mini napoleons from the French bakery down
the street along with her own homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Grace’s mouth watered while she
arranged the food artfully. Grant entered the kitchen. “It’s black tie tonight,
and Cara said you tie a mean bowtie. Would you mind? Hey, what’s all this?”

“No problem,” Grace said reaching
up. “A little something for Jake and me after the show.”

“I think maybe I’m going to the
wrong party. This looks great.”

“Help yourself, I have tons.” He nabbed
an egg roll while Grace expertly wound the tie into a perfect bow.

“Jake’s a lucky guy.” He picked up a
shrimp and carefully dipped it in cocktail sauce.

“He’s got a good appetite.”

“I mean, dating you.”

She smiled with pleasure at his
compliment. “Think so?”

“Sure do. You’re one in a million,
Grace. And that’s not just because you’re Cara’s sister.”

“Although that doesn’t hurt, eh?”

“You two broke the mold.”

“Done!” She pulled the bow tight. Grant
took another shrimp and popped it in his mouth as he sought out the mirror in
the dining room. “Cara was right. This is perfect. Thanks.”

After a quick shower, Grace slipped
into a turquoise velour, scooped-neck top and matching pants. Leaving her hair
loose, she applied light makeup and her lilac cologne. She was ready for Jake,
who’d be arriving with Cara any time now. Grant paced in the living room,
checking his watch frequently. He looked up when she joined him. “It’s ten
forty-five. We need to get there before midnight.”

“They should be here soon.”

“Times Square will be a madhouse. I
hope it doesn’t stop traffic on Fifty-Third Street.”

Before Gracie could reply, the door
opened and Cara breezed in with Jake right behind her. “I’m so sorry, darling.
Traffic was abominable. Bobby’s waiting for us downstairs. I’ve got to change.
Only be a minute.” She stopped to kiss him before she disappeared into the
bedroom. Grant joined her.

Jake handed Gracie a bag with a
bottle of cold champagne in it, pink roses, a generous box of Fleur de
Lis
chocolates, the most expensive French confections in
all of Manhattan—plus a copy of the romantic movie,
New Year’s Eve.
He brushed her lips with his.

“Happy New Year, Gracie,” he said,
while taking off his down jacket and hanging it on the coat tree. She took the
bag into the kitchen and brought out the platters she had prepared, placing
them on the coffee table.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“Just some nibbles while we watch
the movie.” His eyes lit up as he sampled the shrimp then the stuffed
mushrooms.

“Did you make these?”

She nodded. “I bet they taste as
good as they look,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

Jake sputtered and coughed, choking
on a morsel of food. Grace pounded him on the back while she laughed. His face
turned red and finally his throat cleared.

“That wasn’t funny,” he wheezed.

“I thought it was. Should have timed
it
after
you’d finished.”

“
Ya
think?” A smile crossed his lips.

“Can’t forget a great line like
that.”

“I wish you would.”

“I bet you do.” Her eyes teased him.

“You’re an amazing woman.” Jake said
as he followed her into the kitchen. They brought out the chocolates and
champagne. Jake popped the cork and poured, while she set up the movie.

Before long, Cara came out dressed
to kill in a low-cut, floor-length black velvet dress with long sleeves. She
wore the diamonds Grant had given her for Christmas. The two couples bid each
other Happy New Year, and then Grace and Jake were alone. They settled comfortably
on the sofa with a hand-crocheted red, orange, gold and black afghan spread
over their knees.

Gracie burrowed into his shoulder as
he draped his arm around her. Jake’s attention wandered during the movie. He
focused on Grace, instead. Playing with her hair, planting kisses on her hand, then
moving higher until he’d captured her full attention. She paused the movie when
his lips sought hers, giving her mouth up to his. Jake appeared to be in no
hurry, slowly exploring her with his tongue.

As the kissing got intense, he eased
her back down until he was on top of her. Grace wound her arms around his neck
then slid her hands into his hair. When he released her mouth, he began his
gentle assault on her neck. Tiny kisses from her earlobe to her shoulder made
her shiver. Her breath became ragged. He slipped his hand under her top and up
her ribcage.

“You’re not
gonna
slug me, are you?” He whispered in her ear as he closed his fingers around her
breast.

“Uh
uh
,”
she mumbled as his touch sent fire sizzling through her. He wasn’t grabby like
he had been the night of the premiere, but gentle and loving instead. He
massaged her, taking his time seeking her peak through her bra. Gracie relaxed,
allowing the sensations he was creating in her body to take over, shutting down
her mind. He kissed her more aggressively.

As he lay atop her, his arousal
evident, she arched up into him. He nuzzled her neck, moaning her name. Grasping
his shoulders, she hooked her leg around his waist. His fingers closed around her
thigh and started to slide up when a cold breeze and a quiet gasp let them know
they were no longer alone. Grant and Cara had returned.

The lovers separated in the blink of
an eye. Grace smoothed her clothing and straightened her hair with her hands. Jake
sat back against the sofa, pulling the afghan across his lap to hide his
erection. The would-be lovers wiped their mouths. A snickering chuckle from
Grant carried through the hall where the discreet couple waited for a few
moments.

Cara coughed and lowered her eyes as
she entered the living room. “Sorry. Didn’t occur to me to call when we left
the party,” she said.

“It’s okay. No harm, no foul.” Grace
tossed her hair.

Jake cleared his throat and took a
sip of his champagne. “We have champagne left if you’d like to join us.”

“Thanks, Jake, but it’s already one
thirty, and we have a show tomorrow. Goodnight.” Cara and Grant went into their
bedroom and closed the door.

“Oh. Right.” He pushed to his feet.
Grace followed. Alone in the hall, he pulled her up against him. “Did we almost
make love?” he asked.

“A make-out session. Nothing to get
bent out of shape about.” She avoided his stare.

“I see,” he said, nodding, but the
gleam in his eye gave off a different message.

“Consider yourself lucky,” she said,
sliding her hands up his chest.

He pulled her closer with one arm
while his lips kissed her right below her ear. “I do. Very lucky. I have a
premiere next month in L.A. Come with me,” he whispered.

“I do need to check on the house.
You can stay in our guest room.” She moved toward the front door.

“Guest room?”

“Is that a problem?” She cocked her
head.

“Rather stay with you, but the guest
room is my second choice.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she said,
grinning.

“I’m trying not to.” He shrugged into
his jacket while she opened the door.

“Thank you for the roses and
chocolates.”

“And thank you for the great food
and…whatever.” He tossed her a wicked grin.

“Happy New Year, Jake,” Grace said, leaning
in to kiss him. They indulged in a long embrace before separating. After the
elevator scooped him up, Gracie returned to her room. Slipping between the
sheets and pulling the down quilt up to her chin, she closed her eyes and dreamt
about Jake for only a few seconds before she was asleep.

*
* * *

The Liberty Connection
is a disconnection. The plot is contrived, and the acting is wooden. They lost
me in the first ten minutes, as the basic premise was so ridiculous.

I thought the movie was
a comedy, a spoof of spy movies. Imagine how disappointed I was to learn the
movie was the real thing…or tried to be.

Reviews kept getting shorter and
harder to write. Tiffany pushed her to do more, and Grace resisted. Exasperated,
Tiffany threatened to expose Grace if she didn’t comply. So the nasty columns,
no matter how hard they became, continued, and Grace regretted the day she
sought revenge and made a deal with
Celebs
’R Us
.

Several days passed before she had
time to stop and chat with Jake at the theater. She knocked on his dressing
room door. When he opened up, she lazed in the doorway, shy about approaching
him. He turned on the electric razor he held in one hand while motioning her in
with the other.

Bare-chested, clad only in jeans, Jake
moved to the mirror and continued shaving. Grace moved closer, fascinated. like
a moth drawn to a flame.
What a sexy
thing to do.
She wanted to run her finger down his cheek, following the
path he was making.

“What’s up?” he asked, making a face
to pull his skin taut so the razor could do its job.

“Culture…” Her mouth went dry as her
gaze slid down his body.

“What about it?” He shifted his
grimace to shave his upper lip. Grace stared, her eyes riveted to his face.

“Museums…where there’s culture.
Wanna
do a few museums?”

“Museums?” He ran his hand over his
cheek.

I’ll
do that.
She swallowed.

“Yeah, you know, the big ones, like
the Met and the Modern. Then when someone brings it up in conversation,
you’ll…we’ll know what they’re talking about.”

“Oh, like at the premiere? I’d like
to forget that whole night.”

“Makes two of us. Still, we should
know about this stuff.”

“Can’t hurt.” He turned to look at
her. “Something wrong? You look…funny. Am I bleeding or something?”

Grace realized the heat she’d been sensing
had become a blush, exposing her feelings. “I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re going to pass
out,” he said, pulling a chair close to her. “Sit down.”

Gracie sank into it and took a deep
breath. “Fine, really.”

“Sure?” She nodded. “Start
tomorrow?” She asked.

“Start tomorrow what?”

“The museum!” He nodded.

“Perfect. Pick me up at eleven.” She
pushed to her feet. He dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose and let
loose his electrifying grin. It lit up the whole dressing room and the hallway
outside, to boot. Gracie backed down the hall. Jake lounged in the doorway,
filling it with his hunky, lanky frame. They stared at each other until Grace’s
ringtone broke the spell. It was her dancer friend,
Dorrie
.
Jake went into his room and closed the door.

“Hey,
Dorrie
,
what’s up?”

“I’m in New York!”

“You are? Fabulous!”

“A friend who runs a dance studio
sprained her ankle and asked me to fill in for her. So I’m teaching a ballroom
dance class…and I’m begging you to come and sign up.”

“Ballroom dance? Jazz is more my
style.”

“I know, but I need to fill this
class. We’re going to have a contest at the end. It’s just for a few weeks.”

“Do I need a partner?”

“Don’t tell me a hot chick like you
doesn’t have a guy in New York?”

“Well, I sort of do, but I don’t
think he’s a dancer.”

“Bring him along. We’ll teach him.
It’s going to be fun.
Pleeaassee
…”

“Okay, okay. I suppose an hour of
exercise once a week wouldn’t hurt.”

“It’s every day, starting next week.
Intense. I’ll email you the stuff.”

“Okay. I’ll see what he says.”

“It’ll be good to see you. How’s
that hamstring?”

“All better.”

“Good, now I can give it a workout.
Can’t wait to meet your guy.”