Although he’d been braced for it, thanks to Simon, it had still taken all of Chris’s accumulated improvisational skills to hide his reaction to the sight of Victor. Once a robust and energetic man who’d regularly beat him at arm wrestling, Victor was now thin and bald, looking frail and tired in the rented hospital bed that had transformed the sunny living room into a hospice.

“Too much trouble to get it all the way upstairs, and this way I can still be underfoot and annoy Simon,” Victor explained with a smile. His voice no longer had the power that it had when he’d corralled a dozen amateur actors into performing Shakespeare, but Chris was relieved to see that his eyes still twinkled with humor.

Simon, perched on an ottoman by the coffee table, idly sketching out costume ideas, responded with a snort of agreement. His hairline had receded and his neatly trimmed goatee was silver now, but otherwise, he was almost completely unchanged. He was still short, still medium build, and his precise, somewhat fussy mannerisms were the same. He was dressed as nattily as ever; today he wore a green seersucker blazer, linen pants, and bright orange sneakers.

Chris smiled. He sat next to the bed on the couch, a cup of coffee on the side table next to him. He’d flown up to Portland the night before, driven down to Silverweed Falls, where he’d booked a room at the local Marriott, and had arrived on Simon and Victor’s doorstep at ten the next morning. Now, they were seated around the living room discussing the rebirth of the Silver Scene Players.

Chris had spent hours in that living room many times back when they were running lines for Much Ado. Now, if it hadn’t been for the hospital bed, he could almost have imagined himself back in time, talking over the details of the play with Simon and Victor once again.

“Originally, we were thinking of A Winter’s Tale. We thought we’d try to talk Joy Albright into playing Hermione—you remember Joy, don’t you?” Victor asked. “We even talked about her daughter playing Perdita, the daughter in the play, you know. Would have been perfect roles for both of them. But I think we’d be better off with something like Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s better known, and it has a bigger cast. And if we’re going to pull this off, we need all the involvement we can get. A bigger cast means more friends and relatives showing up and supporting.” Victor looked at him keenly. “You’re really up for directing it?”

“Of course. Isn’t that what all Hollywood actors really want, a chance to direct?” Chris grinned, though in fact, the thought of directing Shakespeare made him nervous. “As long as you two are on hand to help me figure it all out, we’ll make it work.” The mention of Joy’s name had made him self-conscious and he put extra effort into sounding casual when he said, “Are a lot of the old crew still around?”

“A few you’d remember,” Simon chimed in. “And some relative newcomers you won’t. But let’s see ... Brice, Luke, Joy ...”

Chris cleared his throat. “How is Joy, anyway?”

“Oh, she’s all right,” said Simon. “She hasn’t been on the stage in a few years, but she helps out with the fundraising. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. In fact, if you’re going to direct, you won’t be able to avoid her. You should try to talk her into trying out. It’d be great to see her on stage again” He turned to Victor. “Can’t you see her as Titania? Queenly but ... sensual.”

Victor nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I will,” Chris mumbled. He wanted to ask so much more but wasn’t sure how. “And her kid, Charlotte? How’s she doing?”

“Graduating high school soon, if you can believe it.” Victor said with a fond smile. “We went to see her in her high school’s production of Hedda Gabler. She played Thea Elvsted. She was quite good.”

Coming from Vic, “quite good” was high praise.

“Think maybe she’ll try out?” Chris remembered a red-haired four-year-old with an outsized personality and a penchant for treats. He was curious what she’d be like now.

The doorbell rang.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” said Simon. “That’s probably her now.” He got up and made for the front door.

“Her?” Chris felt a dart of something between excitement and panic strike him in the chest. “Who? Joy?”

“Yes, yes,” Vic said. “We asked her to come along. We figured she could help convince you to do it if you said no, and if you said yes, she’ll be your Gal Friday. Either way, she’d be useful.” His voice dropped. “Did we mention she got divorced?”

“What?” Chris snapped his head to look at Vic, who winked, then snapped it back in time to see Simon walked into the living room followed closely by Joy, who carried a large bouquet of bright spring flowers.

She looked like she’d just come from working out. She was casually dressed in black yoga pants, light green sneakers, and a bright pink hoodie. Her straight dark hair was shorter than he remembered and was held back by a wide headband. She didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup.

Chris noted the way the yoga pants hugged her hips and the fitted hoodie showed off her trim waist. While she had always been attractive, he thought now that she had grown into her beauty. Despite the casual outfit, she had a sophistication that she hadn’t had thirteen years ago. She had the same face, the same expressive green eyes, the same sculpted cheekbones, the same full, lovely lips, but thirteen years ago, they’d all seemed a bit too big for her. Now she owned her beauty.

She looked queenly ... but sensual.

She was smiling at Simon and saying something as she walked in. Chris hastily stood up. As soon as her eyes turned to him, she froze.

“Look who’s back!” Simon cheerfully indicated Chris. “Your own Benedick, recently arrived from Hollywood to direct this year’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream!”

Joy stared at Chris.

Chris stared at Joy.

Finally he found his voice. Clearing his throat, he said, “How are you, Beatrice?” She blinked. “I mean Joy. Sorry.” He shook his head as heat started to creep up his neck. “Joy. You look great.”

The look of surprise on her face morphed into a wry smile. “I see you still need someone else to write your dialogue for you,” she said.

She was still beautiful, still clever, and she still wasn’t a pushover.

He grinned at her like an idiot.

* * *

“You’re looking good yourself,” she conceded.

And of that, there was no doubt.

He’d filled out in the thirteen years since she’d last seen him, going from an athletic but skinny college student to a man whose broad shoulders and muscular chest filled out his clothes impressively. He’d grown a beard, trimmed close to his face. She wasn’t sure about the beard—it covered the sexy cleft in his chin, but on the other hand it made him look more grown-up than she remembered, and his light-brown hair was neatly styled. He wore a linen blazer over a t-shirt and jeans; casual clothes, but they fit like they’d been tailored just for him.

Which they probably had, she reflected. He was a movie star now. No doubt nice clothes came with the territory.

He stepped closer to her for a hug just as she held out one hand and they managed an awkward half-embrace in which she patted his shoulder—firm, she noted—and he kissed her on the cheek. Beneath the scent of his expensive cologne there was another smell ... of nostalgia for that hot summer thirteen years ago.

Of him.

Slightly flustered, she turned to Simon.

“I brought these for Victor.” She handed Simon the bouquet.

“I’ll get a vase.” Simon smiled broadly and bustled off to the kitchen.

“You’re always so thoughtful, Joy,” said Victor. He looked pale and the lines on his face seemed deeper than they had when she’d seen him just a few days ago, but his smile was broad and there was a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there in a while. “They’re beautiful.”

“I picked them up at the farmer’s market on my way. I hope they’ll last for a while.”

“Come sit down.” Victor indicted an armchair for Joy and waved Chris back into his seat on the couch. “Let me bring you up to date. Chris has very graciously agreed to direct this summer’s Shakespeare production. In addition to the expertise he’ll bring to the play, I think having a real live movie star on the production will be a draw, to say the least. Chris, Joy here has been the only reason we’ve stayed in business as long as we have. She’s been a tremendous help with publicity and fundraising, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

She smiled at him absentmindedly, her head still spinning slightly. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

“Yeah, me too, probably,” Chris jumped in. “Victor’s going to tell me what to do and I’ll just pass his directions on to the players.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Like Cyrano de Bergerac.”

Joy finally met his gaze. “’Cause that ended well.”

Chris looked at her as if not sure whether she was joking. She wondered if she’d sounded too snarky and was about to apologize when Simon came back in with a vase full of the flowers, a mass of dark pink peonies and violet larkspurs that seemed to glow in the mid-morning sunlight. He set them down on the coffee table, being sure that they were within Victor’s line of sight, then straightened up.

“They’re beautiful. So sweet of you, Joy. Thank you. So,” he included Chris in his sharp gaze, “Victor got you up to date on what we’d like you to do with the production?”

“Not exac—” Joy started, but Chris nodded and Simon broke in.

“Good. We trust you to take care of everything, and of course we’ll be on hand to help as much as we can. Now, I hate to be rude, but Victor’s never going to say it. I can tell he’s exhausted. Why don’t you two go out for coffee or something and talk it all over?”

Joy flashed a surprised look at Chris who seemed equally discomfited by the suggestion—but only for a moment. He recovered quickly.

“That’s a great idea. Victor, Simon.” He shook hands with both of them, “Wonderful to see you both again. I’m flying back to LA late tomorrow, but I’ll start looking for a rental for over the summer this weekend. Joy, maybe you have some ideas?”

“Umm ...” Joy seemed to have lost her ability to articulate. She’d expected tea and a quiet chat with Simon and Victor; instead she was being unceremoniously kicked out mere moments after getting there with Chris McPherson on her arm and orders to produce a play .

Did he know she was divorced?

She frowned and shook the thought out of her head. Why would it matter?

He might have had a crush on her when she was twenty-seven, but it was ridiculous to think he’d still be attracted to her. He probably had gorgeous women half her age throwing themselves at his feet every day.

The thing was, she couldn’t help noticing him. When she’d known him before, he’d been cute in an objective sort of way, but not really on her radar—at least, not until that memorable kiss and its humiliating aftermath. Now, though—holy hell, he was hot.

“I have a friend in real estate,” she mumbled. “I can put you in touch.”

She had a dreamlike impression of kissing Victor’s cheek, hugging Simon, stepping out the front door, and then it closed with a gentle click behind her and she found herself standing on the front porch with Chris, facing the brisk, sunny morning.

He turned to face her, a broad smile on his handsome face. “Well, where should we go?” he asked.

Her heart was beating fast and her head was swirling. When she’d gotten up this morning, she’d felt colorless and robotic. She’d been up early, gone to 7 am yoga followed by an 8 am spin class before buying vegetables and cheese at the farmer’s market. Her last stop had been the flower stand, where emotion in the form of anticipatory grief had snuck in at the thought of how little time Victor had left. She’d stuffed it down, like she always did. Leaving her groceries in the car, she’d hiked up the short hill to Simon and Victor’s little house, relishing the exertion as a distraction from the curious emptiness she felt these days.

But as she stepped out of the house again, she felt like Dorothy stepping into the Technicolor world of Oz. Suddenly she was aware of the beautiful spring day, the bright blue sky, the cool breeze, the sounds of the birds, the green of the trees and the brilliant yellow of the daffodils that lined Victor and Simon’s driveway.

She had a purpose again.

To save the Silver Scene Players for Victor.

There was only one problem ...

And right now he was staring at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.