Dad and the Drama Queen
 

a harlequin novel
hope u like it
Dad and the Drama Queen
by Muriel Jensen

CHAPTER ONE

"Dad, puh-leeze! If we don't leave now, I'll miss Montrose Park!"
Jack Campbell held up his index finger in a bid for one moment of silence while he reread his lead.
Eleven-year-old Allie Campbell rolled her eyes and sighed, but waited.
He used the spelling checker one last time, then, satisfied that his story about being the single parent of a preteen was at least spelled correctly, he pressed the command that would send it to Makeup. That should make the Foggy Bluff Bugle's publisher happy, although the article was not the usual hard news he was used to reporting.
Jack shut down his computer terminal and turned to his daughter. She was pulling on her coat, gathering up her books. She took the school bus to his office every afternoon, did her homework at an empty desk beside him, and was usually patient with the time it took him to research and rewrite.
Except on Tuesday nights.
Tuesday night meant Montrose Park.
In his estimation, the nighttime soap about young adults that had most of the teens in Allie's circle glued to their sets featured freewheeling characters whose lifestyles challenged every rule he'd set down for his daughter. He thought her life could go on just fine without the weekly hour-long dose of life in the fast lane in the big city.
Allie didn't agree, of course, but she was a treasure otherwise. She did what she said she was going to do, was always where she was supposed to be, and though she argued with him about most things, she always acceded to his wishes. So he tried to give her some slack.
This perfect existence wouldn't last forever, he knew. The teen years were coming in size-12 shoes. He could hear them.
He'd moved them from L.A. to small-town Oregon last year after Jeanie died in a freeway accident, hoping the proximity to his parents and his sister would help in some small way to make up to Allie the loss of her mother.
"You promised me a pizza," she said, going to the coatrack to get his jacket. She held it open for him as Jeanie used to do, and she looked enough like her mother to push him off balance for a moment. Though he'd adjusted as well as possible, the reality of Jeanie's absence could still crush him to powder.
With a huff of impatience, Allie took his wrist and physically stuffed his arm into the jacket. "You're wasting time," she accused. "We have ten minutes to get to the Pizza Place, it takes twelve minutes for them to process our order, then seventeen minutes to get home. That's thirty-nine minutes, and Montrose is on in half an hour."
"Thank you, Spock," he said, likening her to Star Trek's famous first officer, renowned for accurate timekeeping. That had been Jack's television passion when he'd been 11. Warp-drive problems and warring Klingons were a far cry from French kisses and carrying condoms.
"If Sawyer doesn't give up Victoria tonight," Allie explained, "Whitney's going to Nairobi with Jason."
He had no idea who most of those people were, but he wanted to seem interested. "Would that be so bad?"
"Ye-es! Whitney's pregnant with his baby."
Paternal alarm rattled through him with fresh vigor. "But you're smart enough not to do that, right?"
She grinned. "I don't even know Jason." She had Jeanie's wicked sense of humor. And she loved to taunt him with it. "No, I would not get pregnant without a husband. Supporting a baby alone leaves you no money to buy clothes or makeup. Could you hurry?"
Okay. Her motives were selfish, but they'd do the job.


Chapter One: Part Two


He was about to turn off his desk lamp when a light rap on his door was followed by the arrival into his office of Barbara Jones, his publisher. She was a buxom redhead with clear designs on his virtue.
"Finished?" She wore a blue sweatshirt over jeans and a decidedly predatory air.
Jack saw Allie frown at the woman. He picked up his briefcase and tried to forestall her daily invitation to dinner by appearing to be rushed. Allie's impatient shift from one foot to the other helped.
"Yep. It's on its way to Makeup."
Barbara came close, oblivious to his signals. "Thanks for adding your story to the Foggy Bluffs Families Special Section. Everyone admires you, you know. Big-city, Pulitzer-Prize winning reporter coming home to raise his daughter and finish his novel among family and friends. Every single woman in town wants to cook for you and help you get a life again."
"I have a life," he said, turning off his lamp, "and I'm late for it right now."
"I have Chicken Marengo in the Crock Pot at home." Her voice deepened, suggesting that it came with a side of seduction.
"We have pizza on order." Jack walked determinedly around her to the door Allie held open. By ordering ahead, he'd get Allie home in time for her silly TV show. "Thanks, though. See you in the morning."
"Jack, you'd better —"
He took Allie's hand and kept moving, pretending he couldn't hear Barbara.
Allie patted his arm affectionately as they stepped into the hall. "Good work, Dad," she whispered. "What's Chicken Marengo?
"Got me."
Her sudden intake of breath brought his head up. A fragile blonde in a silky, clingy black dress came toward them, then stopped in her tracks at the intersection of the corridors, pale blue eyes staring at him, lips parting in surprise.
Without warning, a man's body flew at her out of the side hallway, caught her around the waist and dragged her to the floor. "You thought you could just walk away?" he demanded, his voice high, furious. He outweighed her by about 100 pounds. "You thought —"
Jack didn't hear any more. Judicious male rage ran through him as he crossed the small distance between them in several strides, yanked the guy up by the back of his jacket, and clocked him with a right to the jaw. The man fell like an anchor.
Jack reached down for the woman's arm and pulled her to her feet. She was even smaller than she'd seemed. More beautiful than he'd realized. And — smiling?
The sultry blonde studied his face with complete concentration, then wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.
It was only as she drew away that he noticed the many lights and strange pieces of equipment in the side hallway, the small army of startled people behind cameras and holding microphones. A ripple of foreboding bumped along his spine.


Chapter One: Part Three


Allie shook his arm, beside herself with excitement. "Dad," she whispered, her voice trembling, "this is Monica Barkley!"
He frowned dumbly.
"She's Whitney Fox on Montrose Park!"
He listened to the laughter of everyone in the side corridor as he turned to the woman he'd apparently just rescued from — a script.
"I tried to warn you to leave by the back door," Barbara said from somewhere behind him, "and that Montrose Park was filming here. But it's too late now. Looks like Whitney Fox already has you in her clutches."
Whitney Fox, a.k.a. Monica Barkley, arched an eyebrow in Barbara's direction and then turned to him and smiled. His breath caught in his throat she she playfully ran a finger down his chest. "I should have known you kissed too well to be an actor..."

Chapter two

Monica licked her lips as she gazed up at her gorgeous, six-foot-one, dark-eyed savior. "Want to practice the next scene with me?" she said in her best femme fatale voice
"I, uh..." Interest flickered in his exquisite eyes before he lowered his gaze in obvious embarrassment. The crew's laughter floated down the hall.
"It's a love scene," she whispered in his ear.
Paul Matthews, the show's director, interrupted any reply Hunky Brown Eyes might have made. "Cut, cut!" He waved his arms over his head, marching toward Kip Hamilton, who was still crumpled on the floor. "Somebody get an ice pack."
Hunky Brown Eyes winced as he looked at the man he'd knocked off his feet. "Is he okay?"
"Don't worry," Monica answered. "Kip has a hard head."
He half smiled as he surveyed the television crew swarming around them. "I've ruined your shoot."
"Probably, but it's been a long day. We needed a break." Much as she hated to, she stepped back from the stranger. "I'm Monica Barkley." Stuff your libido, girl, and at least try to act like a professional.
He shook her hand. "I guess we didn't, um, formally meet. I'm Jack Campbell, and this is my daughter, Allie."
Monica directed her attention to the young girl gazing up at her with adoration.
"I'm a huge fan, Monica —" her father nudged her "— I mean, Ms. Barkley. I watch the show every Tuesday night. We were on our way home, actually, you know, before my dad punched Mr. Hamilton. I've got to find out if Sawyer gives up Victoria. Can I have your autograph?"
"Of course," Monica said, though she hid a spark of alarm that girls as young as Allie watched her show. The characters weren't exactly role models for the youth of America. It's just a part, she reminded herself.
Before she could snag an assistant to retrieve a publicity photo, Paul charged toward them. "You!" he shouted, pointing at Jack. "You've ruined this shoot, and if my star is bruised, you'll have a hefty lawsuit on your hands, buddy."



Chapter Two: Part Two


Monica grabbed Paul's rude, pointing finger. "Good grief, Paul. He thought I was being attacked." She winked at Jack. "And I thought chivalry was dead."
Paul crossed his arms over his chest, his hostile gaze still pinned on Jack.
"Besides, if he's bruised, then the fight scene for tomorrow's shoot will be more realistic," Monica added.
Paul's eyes gleamed with the possibilities.
Jack cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about the whole incident." He glanced over at Kip, who'd managed to gain his feet, but leaned groggily against an assistant. An ice pack rested against his jaw. "If there's anything I can do..."
Paul waved his hand. "They had a break coming. That's a wrap, people. Seven a.m. tomorrow." His announcement elicited some groans, but the crew began breaking down their equipment.
"You know..." Paul stroked his chin, cocking his head as he studied Jack. "You have nice bone structure, great eyes. Ever done any acting?"
Jack shifted uncomfortably. "No."
"Got an agent?"
"A literary one. I'm a writer, not a performer."
"Take off your shirt."
Jack planted his hands on his lean hips. "What?"
"Your shirt. I need to see your muscle definition."
Much as she, too, would like to see Jack's muscle definition, Monica jumped in. "I think we've all had enough excitement for one night. Having Jack parade around the set bare-chested is liable to send us females into a dead swoon."
Paul didn't get to be one of the top TV directors by taking no for an answer. He handed Jack a business card. "Have your agent call my office."
Jack shook his head. "I'm not —"
"My dad on Montrose Park," Allie said reverently.
"I'm not —"
Monica hooked her arm through Jack's. "Let's go to my trailer. I'll get that photo autographed for Allie."
"Oh, my gosh!" Allie grabbed her dad's arm to look at his watch. "The show! I'm going to miss it."
Monica laid her other arm across Allie's shoulders. "No, you won't. I have a TV in my trailer."
The girl beamed. "Awesome!"
A busty redhead brushed by them, sending Monica a hostile glare. "Escape while you can, Jack. Whitney Fox is a real man killer."
Jack glanced at Monica, his eyes sparking with sensual interest. Warmth swept through her body. "I'll take my chances," he said softly.
Have mercy! Monica thought.
Impatient, Allie bounced on the balls of her feet. "Let's go, Dad."
They set off at a brisk pace. Monica was aware that Jack was sneaking covert looks at her as he walked straight into Kip.
Chapter Two: Part Three


This time Kip regained his balance without crashing to the floor. "Hey, man, watch it! Are you trying to kill me?"
Jack's face flushed a deep red. "Sorry. No."
Monica added her apology, tugged Jack's arm and steered them to her trailer.
Twenty minutes later, she had Jack and Allie settled down with the pizza he'd ordered, had learned that he was a widower and that Allie idolized her, and the show's opening credits were rolling across the TV screen.
After changing into jeans and a sweatshirt, Monica joined them at the table. "So much for my diet." She bit into a gooey slice of pepperoni and double cheese.
Jack grinned at her. "Being naughty, even with pizza, is much more fun than being nice."
Knowing the benefits of playing her naughty TV character, Monica heartily agreed. And being naughty with Jack Campbell was growing in appeal.
"Will you two hush!" Allie said from her position, 12 inches away from the TV screen.
With all kinds of naughty images playing through her head, Monica watched her on-screen character stride into Sawyer's bedroom. Whitney Fox dropped her full-length mink coat, revealing a racy black merry widow.
Jack's startled gaze whipped to hers, then he leapt from his chair and blocked the TV from his daughter's view. "You can't watch this!"
"Da-a-ad!" Allie complained, stretching out the one syllable word as only an almost-teenager could.

Chapter three

Jack snapped off the television and wheeled around to face Monica.
"Jack, I'm —" she began, then stopped. She had nothing to apologize for, she reminded herself.
"I'm missing the show, Dad!" Allie protested.
"You should never have been allowed to watch that show in the first place, Allie,"
Jack told the eleven-year-old. He silently berated himself for not doing a better job of monitoring her television viewing habits. He had spent hours working on his article about the responsibilities of the single parent; yet, he seemed to have ignored the key points. And here he'd thought he was doing a good job as a single parent.
"I'm not a kid," Allie said. "All my friends watch Montrose Park. What I say when they're all talking about it at school tomorrow?"
"How about telling them that you spent the evening eating pizza with Whitney Fox?" Jack suggested.
Allie considered this for a moment. "Well, I guess that is way more cool than just watching the show." She grinned. "Monica, ah, I mean Ms. Barkley, can you get me that autographed picture now? My friends will never believe me if I don't have proof."
"Of course, Allie," Monica smiled back at the little girl. She stole an uneasy glance at Jack before getting up and heading into the small trailer bedroom.
Jack couldn't help noticing how her soft, faded jeans hugged the slender contours of her hips.
Allie nudged her father sharply in the ribs. "I think she likes you, Dad," she whispered theatrically.
Jack Campbell, the man who made his living with words, couldn't think of a single thing to say. The idea of mega-star, Monica Barkley, having any interest in him was absurd. Still, he couldn't deny his interest. In fact, his thoughts kept returning to that brief, tantalizing glimpse of her clad in black negligee.
"Here you go." Monica returned with the eight by ten publicity photo.
"Wow! Thank you so much. Just wait 'til Amber and Megan see this!"
Jack could tell his daughter was busy spinning out the best story to tell her friends tomorrow — like father, like daughter. He turned his attention to Monica. "We should probably say good-night." He was surprised at how reluctant he was to leave. "I'm sure you have an early day tomorrow, what with that 'love scene' you have to do, and all."
Monica hid her disappointment. She hadn't misread the interest in those sexy brown eyes and she had felt a reciprocal spark. Instead, she nodded and held out her hand. "I'm really glad we met, Jack," she said softly.
Someone knocked on her trailer door. "Monica, is that writer fellow in there with you?" Paul Matthews asked.
Jack groaned. One meeting with the television director had been quite enough. He'd probably changed his mind and decided to press assault charges after all, Jack feared.
Monica pulled open the door and Paul barged inside, followed closely by Barbara Jones.


Chapter Three: Part Two


The last thing she wanted was another shoving match between Jack and Paul. "Paul, what's this all —"
"Mr. Campbell," Matthews ignored Monica, "this beautiful lady here," he nodded toward the buxom redhead at his side, "tells me that you might be able to help me."
"I already told you, I'm a writer, not an actor," Jack patiently explained. "So I don't see how I can be of any help to you."
"Right, right," Paul continued, waving away Jack's protest with his meaty hand. "Claire Donniger just walked off set and I have to find someone to replace her before we shoot tomorrow." Paul stopped as if this should explain everything.
Jack looked questioningly at Barbara, but she had yet to drag her adoring gaze from the television director.
"Claire writes the show," Monica explained. She turned back to Paul. "What happened?"
"Kip Hamilton," he said with disgust. "That's what happened. That prima donna has already cost us two writers. His latest temper tantrum drove Claire over the edge. I'd fire him tonight if his uncle wasn't one of our biggest sponsors."
"It's okay, Paul," Barbara chimed in. "I'm sure Jack won't let you down." Her gaze met Jacks, daring him to contradict her.

Chapter four

"You want me to write for Montrose Park?"
"Oh my gosh!" Allie crowed. "Dad, I have so many great ideas for the show. You just have to say yes!"
Jack knew there were a hundred different reasons for him to say no — the least of which, he'd never written a television script. But with one look into Monica Barkley's devilish blue eyes, common sense evaporated.
He opened his mouth to say no... "Okay, I'll give it a try."
"There's Jack!"
Jack stopped his pacing — whenever he was working on a story idea he paced across his office. Right now he needed a good story idea for Montrose Park. He realized the shouting was coming from outside his window and stuck his head out to see a group of people on the sidewalk pointing at him.
"Is Montrose Park really filming here?"
"Where are they staying?"
"Is it true that they asked you to write for them?" The last question came from Edna Anderson, a close friend of his mother's and apparently an avid Montrose Park fan. Jack slid the window shut, closed the curtain, and stared at the telephone on his desk. "Three, two, one..."
Brring.
"Hello, mother."
"Jackson Michael Campbell! How could you not tell me that you're the new writer for Montrose Park? After all I've done for you."
Jack prepared himself. Millie Campbell was the self-appointed travel agent of guilt trips. "I'm sorry, but it's been crazy around here and I'm trying to come up with a good idea for the show before tomorrow morning."
"That's all right, dear," his mother interrupted. "You can talk it over with everyone tonight."
"What do you mean?"
"They're coming for dinner."
"What —"
"You owe me. I called your editor, Barbara, and she gave me the number for the producer of Montrose Park and I invited everyone for dinner." Her voice shifted from disapproving to cheerful. "I'll expect you and Allie at six-thirty."
Jack knew when to admit defeat. "We'll be there."
***
Just as Monica set her foot on the first step of a charming two-story Cape Cod-style home, the front door opened.
Chapter Four: Part Two


Pure female satisfaction filled her as Jack's gaze traveled appreciatively over the white cotton peasant blouse and matching embroidered skirt she'd chosen to wear — with impressing him in mind.
"Hello, Jack." She smiled.
He blushed, the man actually blushed and she felt herself falling a little more under his spell. "We were starting to think you couldn't make it," he said.
"I was held up by some fans but I wouldn't have missed meeting your parents for anything."
His brown eyes sparkled with emotion and she let herself lean toward him. His mouth was mere inches from hers....
"Jack?"
A short woman in her 60s appeared in the doorway and Monica stepped away from him. The auburn-haired women bustled forward. "You must be Monica."
"Mrs. Campbell, Millie, I'm so delighted to be invited to your home."
Millie's eyes, the same attractive brown as her sons, danced with satisfaction. "I can't believe a celebrity remembered my name."
"Believe me, it's not every day that I get offered a home-****************************************d meal — and you included that entire crew. That was so nice of you."
Jack's mother wiped her hands on her apron and Monica assumed the cheery woman was going to shake her hand, and instead found herself gathered into a welcoming hug.
"Ma, you're gonna scare her half to death."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Millie released her hold.
Monica draped an arm over the petite woman's shoulders. "Don't be. Life is far too short to not follow certain impulses." She winked at Jack and followed his mother inside.
"Hey, Monica," Paul greeted her, "we were talking about the show."
"Miss Barkley?" A tall man with a booming voice stood and enveloped her hand in his large, beefy one.
"You must be Jack's dad, please call me Monica."
"Only if you call me Mike. I hope you're hungry. My Millie is an excellent cook."
"I'm famished," she admitted with a grin.
"Sit here, Miss Barkley." Allie patted the seat beside her.
"Thank you." She sat down and turned to the young girl. "You can call me Monica as well."
"I can? Cool." She caught the look her father gave her. "I mean, thank you...Monica."
"Jack was telling us about his idea for the show," Paul tried again.
"I'm sure you know that a large number of your viewing audience consists of young girls," Jack began. "It might be a good idea to introduce some kids — sorry Allie — I meant young adults, to the cast and address issues that they're faced with today."
"That's a fabulous idea!" Monica said. "I see so many young girls who are 12 going on 20 and this would be a great opportunity for us to broaden the show's horizons."
Paul sipped his drink. "Do you have any idea how difficult it will be to find a child actor in Foggy Bluff? Unless..." His eyes lit up as he looked at Allie.
"No way," Jack said.
"Da-ad! Please?" Allie tugged on his arm, her pleading eyes taking up half her face.
"Just think, my granddaughter — a star," Millie added dreamily.
"Ma, don't —"
Millie glared at her son. "Who knows how long an old couple like us has left.... It sure would be nice to see the excitement in my darling granddaughter's beautiful face." She let out a long, dramatic sigh.
Jack refused to give in so easily. "I'm sorry Allie, but school is more important."
"School is out for summer in three more days, or did you forget?"
The look on his face assured everyone that he had forgotten. "If I allow Allie to do this, I must be on the set with her at all times, and her part will only be temporary."
"I'll call the network and have them draw up a tentative contract," Paul agreed.
Monica smiled at Jack. "She'll be fine," she whispered. "Just look at her, she's a natural in front of a crowd."
Allie was dancing around the dining room with her grandfather, the pair of them bursting with excitement.
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."
What Monica was afraid of was something else entirely, and it involved falling hard and fast for a handsome reporter who had a family in his heart, and a promise of love in his eyes. But she could never settle down in a small town like Foggy Bluff. She'd worked all her life to be a success at her career...

Chapter five

The meal seemed to drag on forever, the boisterous crowd at his parents' table obviously enjoying the camaraderie as well as Millie's fried chicken. Jack swallowed the last bite of his apple pie and took a sip of coffee, letting his gaze drift across the table to Monica.
He'd been trying not to stare at her throughout dinner. The softly scooped neckline of her peasant blouse had gone askew, exposing one creamy shoulder. He found himself imagining what it might be like to draw back the golden silk of her hair and press his lips to the little hollow at the base of her throat. With a woman like Monica Barkley to savor, who would need apple pie?
That erotic thought was followed by a rush of relief. There was no guilt, no feeling of disloyalty toward Jeannie. She would have wanted him to go on with his life. And he knew he was ready to respond again to a woman, the way he felt himself responding now to Monica.
She must have felt his scrutiny. She turned her attention from Paul, her sea-colored gaze colliding with Jack's. He felt his blood quicken as she continued to hold her stare, her pupils darkening, her lips parting softly. Unless he'd forgotten everything he ever knew about women, she was giving him an unmistakable green light.
"Dad?" He jumped as Allie put her hand on his shoulder. For a few seconds there, the whole world had telescoped down into an intimate tableau featuring only himself and Monica. He had almost forgotten they were seated in the middle of a crowd.
"Yes?" He tried to make his expression more fatherly as he turned toward Allie.
"Grandma wants me to spend the night tonight. Can I, Dad? She's going to help me rehearse."
"Rehearse? For what? Your part hasn't even been written yet."
"We're just going to practice. Monica loaned me a real script from last week's show."
"Well, all right," he said, schooling himself to ignore the wave of panic overtaking him. Wasn't it just yesterday that she had been his little girl, more concerned with pizza and her school friends than starring on TV?
"Thanks, Dad," she said, giving him a hug. "I'll just wear the spare clothes Grandma keeps here for me. I'll see you after school tomorrow."
As Allie dashed off, Jack turned back to the table to find Monica smiling artlessly at him.
"Does this by any chance mean you'd be free to give me a lift, Jack? I have an early day tomorrow and really need to go over my lines tonight."
"Sure," he said, his heart racing at the prospect of being alone with Monica. Belatedly he wondered how many burger wrappers and cola cups might be littering the floor of the minivan. Vans were great vehicles, very practical when you had kids, but the last thing they could ever be considered was sexy.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Jack held the door open for her and Monica climbed into the blue minivan. It was the quintessential family car, she decided, noting a school newsletter on the dashboard.
The van smelled pleasantly of coffee and old french fries. For a moment Monica felt wistful, almost homesick. In her business, she always drove rental cars. They were a necessary convenience, always spotless and had that new-car smell. But they were also impersonal, revealing nothing about the people who rode in them.


Chapter Five: Part Two


Now, for just a moment, as Monica settled back into the seat and fastened her safety belt, she allowed herself to pretend that she was a part of this family, that she belonged with the handsome, intelligent man sitting next to her.
She let her gaze slide over him as he started the car. They'd been trading glances all evening, but she felt as if she could never get enough of admiring those broad shoulders, that tanned jaw, the warm depths of his eyes.
He turned and smiled at her, his teeth flashing in the dusky light.
"Where are you staying?"
She gave him the name of her motel.
"Care for a tour of our little burg on the way?"
"That would be nice," she said.
"Should take us all of 15 minutes."
They drove down the main street of Foggy Bluff. By now, as the glow of sunset was fading from the June sky, most of the stores had closed up for the night. Monica noted a charming mix of locally owned shops peppered with a few larger chain stores. Several blocks down they passed by an old movie house with a darkened marquee.
"No movie theater in town?" she asked.
"There's a new quad cinema out near the shopping mall. There had been some talk about turning this old place into a dinner theater with live plays, but no one was able to raise the money to make the necessary renovations. Last I heard it was slated to be torn down." He shrugged. "I guess that's progress."
Was it? she wondered. Or was it a crying shame? She glanced back at the old building, at the once-grand stone facing that was starting to crumble. The seed of an idea began to take shape in her mind.
Moments later they pulled up in front of her motel room.
She reached over and laid her hand lightly on Jack's arm.
"Tell me, Jack," she began, "if I were to buy the old movie house and turn it into a dinner theater, do you think people would come to my plays?"
He sat silently in the darkness for some time.
"Are you serious?" he finally said.
"Yes. Yes, I believe I am," she said. "But I would need a partner, someone local to act on my behalf when I'm away. Would you do that for me, Jack?"
"Partners?" he repeated, sounding dazed.
"Yes."
She felt, rather than saw him nod.
"Then," she whispered, leaning toward him, "shall we seal our partnership with a kiss?"
The light scent of Monica's perfume filled his senses. Jack didn't want to think about partnerships or movie theaters. With a muffled groan, he kissed her gently at first, but then with a passion that had been buried deep inside of him.
He heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her straining toward him, promising things that he dared not even think about in the confining space of the van. Then, without warning, her body shifted away from him.
"Paul...."
Abruptly, Jack's mind cleared. Had he heard right? Ice began to creep through his veins. "I think you have the wrong guy."
Monica looked at him. "No, you have it all wrong. Look —"
Jack looked up to see Paul, standing outside the van. Monica's blue eyes held mischief as she smiled at Jack. "He was pounding on the ************************************************************ **** Didn't you hear him?"
"Sorry...I had other things on my mind," Jack admitted.
The van door was yanked open by a very rain-soaked Paul. "Monica, I need to talk to you!"
"Good evening to you too, Paul." Jack knew he sounded sarcastic but at that particular moment he didn't care. Then the absurdity of the situation hit him and he felt a chuckle begin deep inside him. Sitting here like two school kids, making out. I must be losing my mind.
He began to feel a little more sympathetic toward Paul. After all, no man would stand in the pouring rain without good reason. "Go ahead Monica. I have errands to run. Be back in an hour or so — so we can talk about your plan." Maybe they would talk. If he was lucky they would do something else entirely. Monica gave him a brief nod as she exited the van.
Jack watched Monica and Paul enter the motel room, and considered going home to write, but knew his mind wouldn't be on his work.
He eased the van from the parking spot, looking enviously at Paul's Mercedes convertible. Driving through town he began thinking about what Monica was proposing for the old movie house. Might not be such a bad idea. Give the town something new. Not to mention that Monica would be his partner. Thoughts of how they had sealed their partnership was enough to muddle up his thinking again.

Chapter six

He turned the van north and found he was in front of Barbara's place. On sudden impulse, he pulled the van into the empty parking space and shut off the engine. Just because she had a thing for him didn't mean he had to behave badly, did it?
"Paul?" Barbara opened the door on his first knock. "You. I've been trying to get you over here for months and now you show up."
Jack stepped inside, muttering, "Do I have to hear Paul's name everywhere I go tonight?"
"What about Paul? Do you know where he is?" She examined Jack suspiciously as if he were the cause of her troubles.
"If you'll stop glaring at me, I'll tell you where Paul is."
"Oh, all right. I apologize. But admit it, you turning up here is a shocker."
He chose to ignore her remark, "Paul is with Monica. Seems he had something important he wanted to discuss with her. Any idea what that would be?"
"I might have known that he would go running to her," she said, turning away, but not before Jack saw the anger in her eyes.


Chapter Six: Part Two


"And you thought you would come here and make do with me. Is that right, Jack?" He ignored the outburst about Monica. After all, Monica was, well, Monica! There was no reason for it, but he could understand Barbara being jealous.
"Let's call a truce, shall we? I had no such thought in mind when I came here."
For the first time Jack noticed her red-rimmed eyes. "Look, Jack, I know I have behaved badly in the past. I guess after Roy left I just needed to feel that somebody cared, needed to feel attractive again." She stopped and gave Jack a resentful look before continuing, "Although you weren't much help on that score. But it really wasn't about you, Jack."
So much for his ego. Funny he always thought of her as bold and even hard, but to look at her now he could see how vulnerable she was. Made him ashamed that he had never taken the time to see the other side of her. If the rumors could be believed, her ex was a no-good louse.
"What about Paul? You dumped me for him, is that right?" He smiled to let her know that he was trying to make light of the situation.
She gave a snort. "By now he and Monica have probably reunited. Just as well, I guess."
She must have seen shock in his eyes because she said, "You didn't know, did you?"
"Know what, Barbara?" He felt like he was drowning in the blood that was pounding in his head. Barbara couldn't be saying...
"You didn't know that they were a serious item?"
Jack didn't know what he said to Barbara as he turned and left, fear and jealousy consuming him. Back at the van, staring at the softly falling rain, his fear was replaced by hope as he thought back over his times with Monica. So what if she and Paul had been an item. Than was then. This is now. She could never have responded to him the way she had if she still cared for Paul.
Then another thought came crashing down on him — don't be dense, Jack. She's an actress and a good one, pretending is what she does for a living.
Was Monica acting with him? Was Paul the man she really wanted?
As Jack drove aimlessly around Foggy Bluff, he wavered from optimism one minute to glum disappointment the next. Who was he kidding? When it came to dating and relationships, Monica was in the big leagues, and he was still playing Tee Ball.
"Didn't you know...?" Barbara's words haunted him, replaying over and over again in his mind. But Monica had responded so passionately to his kisses! Had he imagined the whole thing? Was he that rusty with the whole dating scene?
Monica's world was filled with glitzy nightclubs and exotic restaurants. Foggy Bluff's only night spot was the Foggy Grill, whose claim to fame was that their burgers were as big as the pot holes in the parking lot.

Chapter seven

The headlights of the minivan speared the rain-filled pot holes of the Foggy Grill after Jack decided the only way to clear his head was a cup of strong coffee. Warm light spilled out of large bay windows and Jack could see there was quite a crowd inside.
Tinny jukebox music greeted him as he stepped inside, relieved to be out of the cold rain. The usual din of voices, music, and plates clinking together was louder than usual tonight. Jack looked across the room, to find Monica and Paul cozily sitting next to each other, holding champagne glasses.
Jack's spirits sank at what had been right in front of him all along. Ready to brave the elements outside rather than face all the turmoil in his heart, it was only his name being called out that stopped him.
"Jack!" Monica rose, concern written on her face. She glided across the room, the crowd magically parting for her, the same way the liquid in her glass parted as the bubbles made their way to the top. "I was getting worried you hadn't gotten my note I left at the motel. Where have you been?"
Jack's first impulse was to take the champagne glass out of her hand and wrap her arms around his neck, bringing their bodies together in synchronicity with their lips. No! He would not be made a fool of again.
Monica failed to notice the mistrust in his eyes as she took his hand. "Come celebrate with us." She led him over to the table where Paul sat, grinning like a man in love.
"Celebrate?" Jack grated, feeling a strong dislike for the smug Paul.
"Yes!" said Monica gaily. "Paul is finally taking the plunge — he's getting married next month." The animation turned her cheeks rosy, her delicate hand raising the champagne glass for a toast.
"Married to who?" asked Jack suspiciously.
"Mallory Bennet," said Paul. "She's quite a gal, lives down in L. A."


Chapter Seven: Part Two


"Oh Paul, I'm so thrilled for you," exclaimed Monica, letting go of Jack and putting an affectionate arm around Paul's shoulders.
Bewildered, Jack looked from Monica to Paul, seeing only genuine happiness that true friends would share over good news.
"I thought..." Jack's voice trailed off as a tiny spark of new hope sprang to life.
Monica came to Jack, a smile of understanding lighting up her face. "Paul and I use to date a year or so ago, but we found we made better friends than anything else." She reached up to place a light kiss on Jack's cheek. Whispering just loud enough for Jack to hear, she said, "I think I was waiting for the real thing...and here it is."
***
The atmosphere remained noisy and festive as toasts were made and champagne flowed. Caught up in the revelry and the feel of Monica's warm body nestled close to him, Jack didn't notice Barbara's arrival. Her words brought a sudden hush to the crowd.
"You promised me a part in the show, Paul!" Rage mottled her face as she pointed an accusing finger.
"Now Barbara, you know how these things go," backtracked Paul, holding both hands up defensively.
All eyes were on Barbara as she advanced toward the table. Jack cringed, not sure what Barbara was capable of doing.
"Barbara," Monica's soothing voice broke in, "maybe I can talk the guys at corporate into giving you a cameo appearance. No promises, but it's worth a shot." It was enough of a promise to placate Barbara. Jack hoped Barbara would be able to let go of old disappointments but he also wondered how she would react when she learned of Paul's engagement.
"O.K., O.K. everyone! I have an announcement to make." Monica rose, pulling on Jack's hand until he stood beside her. The soft light created a halo around her silky hair and Jack wished fervently that they were alone.
"Jack and I...." Monica paused to create a dramatic effect, while everyone waited for the next words out of her rosy lips, "are thinking about becoming partners and buying the old movie house. We haven't finalized anything yet, but we both agree that it would make a great dinner house with live plays."
A cheer sounded from the crowd as Monica looked at Jack with jubilance. Jack was taken aback by the sudden announcement, preferring to discuss it privately and hammer out some of the details first. Did this mean that Monica was staying in Foggy Bluff for good? Was she committing to being business partners, or more?
The hour was late by the time things wound down at the Foggy Grill. Jack helped Monica into her floor-length wool coat as Barbara and Paul discussed new ideas for the show. Paul's engagement had come up, but Barbara had only smiled bitterly and said nothing.
"Long distance phone call for Monica Barkley," yelled out the bartender from behind the gleaming wood counter. Monica kissed Jack on the cheek as she left to take the call.
When she returned, all the color had drained from her face.
"What is it, what's wrong?" Jack asked.
"It was the corporate office. They've just canceled my contract and they want me back in L. A. — now." Shock was evident on Monica's face as she stared unseeingly at Jack.
His heart plummeted as he forced himself to ask the question. "Does that mean you're leaving?"
Monica Barkley To Replace Ailing Star In New James Bond Film.
Jack read the headline on the front page of The Oregonian's Entertainment Section and felt a sudden pall cover everything. She wasn't coming back.
Monica had left for L.A. two weeks ago and, except for a basket of California oranges sent to his parents to thank them for their hospitality, he hadn't heard a word from her. Of course, he hadn't called, either. She might construe that as applying pressure and as much as he'd come to care for her during her brief visit to Foggy Bluff, he couldn't believe she could give up Hollywood for him. And he didn't want her to think he expected that of her.
The show was being retooled because of a sudden drop in ratings. Monica, Kip Hamilton, and several others had been replaced. Allie's role had been cut even before her contract could be drawn up, and Jack had been replaced as writer.
Allie, reading over his shoulder, wrapped her arms around his neck. "You should have called," she said. He could hear the strain in her voice.
He patted her arm, then kissed it. "Monica and I weren't meant to be, Allie," he said gently. "It was just a little bit of Hollywood come to Foggy Bluff."
"She liked you. I know she did. And you liked her."
"Yes." He pulled her around to his side, pushed back his chair and got to his feet. She was on the brink of tears. He hated that. "Unfortunately, that doesn't always lead to happily-ever-after in the real world."
She sighed. "That bites the big one."
"Can't argue with you there." Jack grabbed his briefcase and put an arm around her shoulders. "Come on. You'll be late for school."
Jack's parents were in his office when he arrived, a paper cup of coffee in one hand, a bagel balanced on top of it.
"Hi," he said, rather than running in the other direction as he'd have preferred to do. He put the cup on his desk and his briefcase on the floor. "What's up?"
"You should have called," his mother said. She was sitting in his chair.
He picked up the stack of mail in the middle of his blotter and tried to look busy — too busy to talk. "I called you last —"
"She meant Monica," his father said. He was looking out the window, jingling the change in his pocket. He always did that when required to support his wife in any action against their son.
"She has enough to worry about," he explained patiently for the 10th or 11th time in two weeks, "without my pleading with her to come back."
His mother looked up at him, her dark eyes incisive. "Are you afraid to want her that much? Afraid to get in that deep all over again and... lose it? Like you lost Jeannie?"
He sank onto the edge of his desk, suddenly weak at the thought. "If it was just me," he said, losing focus as his memory placed an image of Monica in his mind's eye, all moonlight blond and smiling, "I'd take the chance that she could be happy here. But it's Allie, too. And I don't think she could lose a mother again and survive."
His mother's bottom lip quivered dangerously, and his father put a hand on her shoulder. "He's only being sensible, Millie," he said, his booming voice quieted to a whisper.
"I know," she said angrily, tears falling. "But I want him to be happy, not sensible!"
His father pulled her up out of the chair. "I know, Mill. But contrary to what you've always believed, you can't have everything you want. Come on. Jack has work to do."
"Dinner tonight?" his mother asked as she was bustled away.
"We'll be there," Jack promised.
Barbara pushed open his door a moment after it closed behind his parents.
"What?" he demanded crossly.
She stared at him in surprise, then to his complete and utter shock, burst into tears.
"What is it about me?" she asked, tearfully plaintive. "So, I'm strong and...maybe a little pushy.... Is that a reason for every man to run in the other direction? Or bark at me?"
Jack wrapped her in a quick hug. "I'm sorry, Barb, I'm just a little stressed. I'm supposed to be working on the theater story for the Weekend Section and I..."
Barbara held up a camera. "I came in to tell you that I'll shoot some interiors for you if you come along and tell me what you want. I know you're rushed and I'm not just a publisher, you know. I'm a good photojournalist." She sniffed and squared her shoulders. "I didn't mean to get hysterical. I'm just a little...you know. Weepy. I liked Paul."
Jack grabbed a notebook. "I know. Allie says real life bites the big one."

Chapter Eight: Part Two


"Smart Allie." She led the way out to her car.
It was a gorgeous old place, Jack thought as he directed Barbara to photograph the painted ceiling, the balustered balcony, the small, intimate balconies along the side. Tulip-shaped lights in the form of torches were placed at 10-foot intervals all around.
They were taking photos of the old-fashioned concession stand in the lobby when the front door opened. The blinding glare from outside made it impossible to see who'd arrived.
Jack stared, some sensory connection he'd made with Monica alerting him to her presence.
"Barbara?" a male voice said. A tall, broad form moved out of the glare and Kip Hamilton appeared before them, tan and smiling.
Barbara blinked at him. "Yes?"
"I saw your car out front," he said, turning a baseball cap over in his hands like a nervous suitor. "I...guess you've read about the show."
She nodded, clearly perplexed. "I did. I'm sorry."
He shrugged. "These things happen. I thought I'd come back here for a while, see what you're up to."
"You did?" Her voice was breathless.
"I like your style," he said, taking several steps closer to her. "See what you want and go for it. That's what I always do."
She continued staring at Kip like she'd never seen him before.
"Are you free for lunch?" he asked.
She didn't seem able to answer.
"She's free," Jack said, and pushed her gently in Kip's direction.
Kip smiled at him. "Thanks," he said, and taking Barbara's arm, led her out the door.
Jack watched them go, feeling emptier than he had since the day Jeannie was killed. Not only had he lost a second chance at happiness, he'd lost his mind. His emotional radar had been way off.
He wandered back into the theater and sat down in the back row, wondering if he'd have the guts to see the new James Bond movie when it was released. Probably not. It would hurt too much.
Lost in thought, he was unaware that he had company until a bag of popcorn was placed under his nose.
His first thought was that the concession was closed.
His second thought was that he knew that small, slender hand with the gold bangle bracelet. It belonged to...
"Ever neck in the back of a movie theater?" Monica asked.
She looked fresh and happy, her hair caught up in a loose, curly tumble, her blue eyes bright and full of...love.
His heart thundered. "Ah...no," he said. "In the balcony."
She smiled. "Want to go up there, then?" She took a bite of popcorn, then offered him the bag again. He noticed the candy store logo on it.
His mind was a muddle of questions. Before he could ask one, she said judiciously, "you should have called."
He groaned. "I didn't want you to think I was pressuring you."
A little pleat appeared between her eyebrows. "I wanted to know you missed me."
"I did. Believe me, I did." He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, needing to touch her and convince himself she was real. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Seducing you," she replied, her eyes, suddenly serious, devouring his face. "Is it working?"
It was. Big time. But he had a daughter, and therefore, a few concerns. "You start filming the Bond movie in Morocco day after tomorrow," he pointed out.
She shook her head. "My publicity people released that story when the offer was made. I turned it down. Kip overheard me making airline reservations to come back and asked if he could come along."
He frowned, unable to believe what that suggested. Or was she back because of the theater? "You came back because...?"
She sighed and touched his face. "Because I adore you and your daughter and your parents and this town and I think I could be really happy here in partnership with you — in the theater and in our lives. What do you say? Will you marry me?"
Jack looked into the loving sincerity in her eyes and thought in baffled wonderment, Monica Barkley just asked me to marry her. Real life be damned.
"Absolutely!" He kissed her soundly.
With a soft laugh, she looped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. "Shall we move to the balcony?"
"No," he whispered, nipping at her ear. "This is perfect."
The End

sure we need more

merci pour votre belle roman

i will get u more inshaa allah