“Okay, let’s go over the schedule.”

Chris had been sorry to see Joy’s robe replaced with jeans and a t-shirt, but it wasn’t an altogether bad trade—the jeans showed off her slender legs and he couldn’t help checking out her bottom whenever her back was turned. The t-shirt was too loose to show off her curves, but it had a satisfyingly deep V-neckline, and he suspected she didn’t realize how far down it he could see when she leaned over.

Now, cartons of Thai food were scattered around the kitchen table, partway eaten. He forced himself to focus on the calendar she’d laid out in front of him and to pay attention to what she was saying.

“We can be flexible about rehearsals, but the performances will have to be the first and second weekends of August.”

He frowned. “Just two weekends? We did three for Much Ado, the park, the winery and the theater.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, Laughing Vine Winery is under new management, and they’re holding that space for wedding receptions now. Falls state is letting us use the theater for rehearsals, but I talked to the head of the theater department and they’ve got new rules about letting us sell tickets, so we may as well just keep it in the park.” She tapped the calendar thoughtfully. “And I’ll be taking Charlotte to college at Pomona on the third weekend anyway.”

Chris noted the resigned look on her face as she mentioned taking Charlotte to college, but he wasn’t sure what to say. “Block off first and second weekends in August ...” he muttered, opening his phone to check the calendar he shared with Jenny. Several meetings and PR events during the weekdays in late July and early August, one Friday morning event that might make getting to Silverweed on time a little hairy, but he could probably rearrange it. He blocked the days off so that Jenny would know not to schedule anything more.

Joy continued. “So now, the main thing is auditions. You’re still cool with them being held next week?”

He nodded and took a bite of beef yum nuar.

“That’s good, because it’s too late to change them. We’ll do open auditions next Saturday and have a cast list ready to send out on Monday.”

“You think anyone will show up?”

She looked a little apologetic. “I’m kind of dropping your name anywhere I get the chance. With any luck, having a real, live movie star on hand to direct will at least get people’s attention.”

“You’re not worried that my reputation as a punch-up artist will drive them away?”

She gave him that long-suffering look he remembered so well. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. But no punching anyone at the auditions, please. Anyway, I’ve sent out an email to our list, which is just about everyone who’s ever had anything to do with the Players, I took out an ad on Craig’s List, and starting tomorrow, I’ll start putting up some flyers around town.”

He frowned petulantly. “So how come I don’t get emails from you? I mean, from the Players?”

“Were you really going to drop everything in LA and come audition for community theater?” she asked, a little drily.

He frowned. “No, but ... it’s always nice to be asked.”

Joy pursed her lips. “We didn’t drop you from the list on purpose. It’s been thirteen years. You probably use a different email address now.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Well, you’re back on the list now,” she assured him. “I’ll make sure you’re cc’d on anything you need to know about.”

He nodded. “So ... auditions. Will you be trying out?” He glanced at her with exaggerated casualness.

She shook her head and waved a dismissive hand. “Nah. Plenty to do behind the scenes.”

“You could totally carry off Titania.”

She shook her head modestly. “I think my stage days are behind me.”

“No, I’m serious,” he went on. “It’s a great role for you. Queenly but sensual.” She looked at him oddly. “Plus funny,” he added quickly. “C’mon, how often do you get to be queenly, sensual and funny?”

“All the time. At least that’s what people tell me,” she deadpanned. “Thank you for suggesting it, but I really don’t want it. I think I’ll be more useful backstage. Anyway, back to the schedule. In the past, we’ve rehearsed two weeknights a week and either Saturday or Sunday afternoon, but I’m not sure what kind of schedule we’ll be working with this time.”

He stared at her, only half listening, noting the fine texture of her skin.

“Do you need me to talk more slowly?” she asked.

“Uh, sorry. I’m not sure exactly what input you need here.”

“When should we schedule rehearsals? It’s a big cast and we’ll have barely two months to pull it together.”

He consulted his phone. “Probably the best thing is for me to email you all the days that I’ll have to be out of town and maybe we can work rehearsals around those. Weekends should be open except the third weekend of July. Galactic Crusaders premiers that weekend,” he added apologetically.

“Sounds important.”

“Yeah, kinda. The premier is Friday, so I could still fly back on Saturday, I just think it’s going to be a late night, and there may be some other things going on—”

She patted him condescendingly on the arm. “I think your multi-million dollar blockbuster can take precedence just this one time. Don’t make it a habit, though.”

“Thanks. You’ve barely eaten anything,” he observed, studying the container of eggplant stir fry in front of her. “Eat up, you’ll need your strength.”

“And just what do I need my strength for?” she asked.

He had a cheeky reply all lined up, but before he could say it, they heard the front door open and the sounds of laughing teenagers filtered through to them. Joy leaned away from him and sat up straighter. A moment later, Charlotte stepped into the kitchen, closely followed by two other teenage girls, then stopped short. The smaller of the two girls behind her bumped into her.

“We-ell, as I live and breathe.” Charlotte grinned in delight at Chris. Her friends squeezed past her to see what she was looking at, then froze in their tracks. “Hello, Mr. McPherson.” She extended one hand. “I’m Charlotte. You used to buy me candy bars from the vending machine at the theater when my mom wasn’t paying attention.”

Joy raised her eyebrows at Chris, who ignored her. He stood up and shook Charlotte’s hand gravely.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Charlotte. Please call me Chris. And who are these beautiful ladies?” he turned to the two other girls.

Charlotte cleared her throat ostentatiously. “Cat, Zena, this is Chris McPherson. He’s an old family friend,” she added with exaggerated casualness. “My mother eats Thai take-out with legit movie stars on a regular basis, don’t you know.”

“I would have thought your mother kept better company.” Smiling, Chris shook hands with the two girls. Cat flashed him a grin and said hello. Zena shook his hand without saying anything and began to hyperventilate.

“I’m delighted to meet you,” he said, laying on the charm. “Any friend of Charlotte’s is a friend of mine.”

Charlotte gave the table a sweeping glance.

“Well, we just stopped by so I could change. We’re on our way over to Cat’s for a pre-graduation barbecue. You all just carry on with your curry and your calendar and stuff. Don’t wait up.” She raised her eyebrows hopefully.

Joy ignored the eyebrows. “Home by midnight,” she said.

“I hear and obey, oh my mother.” Charlotte made an exaggerated bow then straightened up to steer the still-grinning Cat and the open-mouthed Zena back out of the dining room. At the last minute she turned to give a thumbs up signal behind their backs. Chris wasn’t sure if it was directed at him for charming her friends, at Joy for eating Thai food with a legit movie star, or at herself for having introduced her friends to Chris McPherson. He smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up in return.

“Candy bars, huh?” Joy asked.

Chris spread his hands out helplessly. “She was such a character, I could never say no. Doesn’t look like she’s changed.”

Joy shook her head but she was smiling. “Okay, back to the schedule,” she said briskly. “A few years ago, SSP marched in the fourth of July Parade, which is on a Saturday,” she tapped the date with her pencil. “I’ve contacted the parade organizers and they’ve agreed to let us march again. We can hand out flyers, have a banner or a float, if we can organize one. Should be a good way to get attention. It’s a three-day weekend. Some people will be out of town, but hopefully we can still get at least one regular rehearsal in. Can we count on you to march with us? I think you’d be a good draw.”

“Sure, should be fun.” Chris went back to the yum nuar.

“Okay, fundraisers—we’ve always had a raffle before each performance. Usually a local business donates something as a prize. We generally make around $200 each performance. We’ll still do that, but I’m thinking also about doing a silent auction, maybe in conjunction with a meet-and-greet opportunity with you.”

“What, you’re like, pimping me out?” he asked around a mouth full of spicy meat.

“No ... well, yes. I’m thinking of selling tickets at $50 apiece.”

“I’m worth at least $100,” he objected.

She studied him. “You might be. We’ll serve wine and beer, people will have the chance to bid on auction items and shake hands with you. Maybe get your autograph. No punch-ups.”

“The things I do for you.”

“Thank you. The question is when. I think a week, maybe two, before opening night would be good, but it’ll be important that you be here. If this goes well, it’ll be our biggest fundraiser, so I don’t want to take any chances with you being on a delayed flight or anything.”

He nodded and checked his schedule again. “I do have a couple things scheduled for that week ... but I can probably change them. Give me some back up dates just in case.”

She made a few more suggestions and he promised to check with Jenny about clearing at least one of them.

Finally, she leaned back with a satisfied smile. “Okay, that’s it. Just show up next Saturday for auditions, and we’ll take it from there.”

“All right, now that we’ve got business out of the way, let’s talk about you.”

“Me?” She looked suspicious.

“Yeah. What did your ex want?”

She grimaced, looking resigned. “He want to sell the house.”

“Bastard,” said Chris agreeably.

She gave slight shrug. “Yeah, well … Why don’t you tell me about what you do? What’s it like being a movie actor?”

“It’s awesome, except every now and then I get in a punch-up with the paparazzi. But I was asking about you.”

“No paparazzi. I have a pretty quiet life.”

He suppressed a sigh. He’d learned early on that most chicks loved talking about themselves, and his ability to ask them questions and draw them out had gotten him plenty of action over the years. But Joy, typically, wasn’t going to make it easy for him—which, of course, was part of what made her so interesting in the first place.

“You make your ice cubes out of coffee and drink your espresso cold,” he said knowingly. “I know there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

She leaned a little closer and he resisted the urge to look down her shirt. “Sometimes,” she said, a glint of humor in her eyes, “I use a little whipped cream, too.”

She was just being silly, he knew, but images of what he could do with Joy, some ice cubes and some whipped cream flashed disconcertingly through his head.

He leaned closer to her. “I knew you had a freaky side.”

He thought he caught a flash of something not unlike desire in her green eyes, but to his disappointment, she pulled away, laughing.

“It’s nice to see that fame and fortune haven’t changed you. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?” She reached for her curry and took a bite.

Damn. He couldn’t seem to find the line between real flirting and goofing around. He leaned back, resigned for the moment. “I’m supposed to see Victor tomorrow to talk about the play. Otherwise, not much. Maybe you could show me around?”

Joy shook her head. “Charlotte’s graduating high school tomorrow. I’ve got my mom and my sister coming in for the day.” She sighed. “And I have to be civil to her father, which takes a lot of energy. Listen, Chris, it was great catching up with you, but I think I’d better call it a night.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. Somewhere, somehow, he’d crossed a line. He just wasn’t sure where. But they had all summer to get to know each other again.

He knew how to play a long game.

* * *

Joy poured the rest of the wine down the sink and wiped down the kitchen table. The edgy, unsettled feeling had returned. For a while, while Chris had been there, she’d forgotten all about Scott, about the house, about the oppressive sense that the life she had wasn’t the life she wanted.

But the temptation to flirt had gotten a little too strong and she’d pulled back, unwilling to go further. Chris was as much fun as she remembered him. Maybe more so—and handsome, sexy and successful to boot. She could find herself falling for him a little too easily, and it was ridiculous to think he’d be after anything more than friendship. She’d make a fool out of herself if she tried.

She’d had her chance when she was twenty-seven, and she’d—rightfully—turned it down. Now, it was up to her to revamp her life. She couldn’t rely on Chris or anyone else to do it for her.

She wandered into the TV room, thinking she might watch Bringing up Baby after all—maybe it would revive her spirits—but her eyes were drawn by a globe of the world that sat on a rarely used desk. She spun it, looking for Indonesia.

Why had she wanted to go there so badly?

It took her a few minutes to remember. Someone on Facebook had posted pictures of a vacation in Bali two years ago, and she’d been seized with a sudden desire to leave her normal life behind and see the lush, exotic island for herself.

But not just for a week or two of sightseeing and swimming and eating too much and going home sunburned and exhausted. She wanted to go and really see it, to spend time there, to meet the locals and absorb the culture, to travel around to the other islands that made up the long archipelago ... to leave her regular life behind.

Seized with excitement, she’d proposed the idea to Scott, suggesting that they save their money and vacation time and go the summer before Charlotte started college. He’d indulged her with the patient smile of someone who figured she’d lose interest long before he’d have to commit.

Or maybe, in retrospect, it was the smile of a man who had something better to look forward to, and knew it. All hell had broken loose just a few months later, and family vacations were a thing of the past.

She traced her finger back across the wide Pacific Ocean to the coast of Oregon. When she was a child, her mother had explained that if a ship began a journey off by just half a degree, it would end up somewhere completely different from where it wanted to go. She closed her eyes and gently pushed the globe again, letting her finger trail across it, then opened her eyes ...

... like the Arctic.

She turned her back on the television and went upstairs for the long-awaited bubble bath.