led me up the stairs and along the hall towards the front door, then up the curving stairway I'd noticed when I first came in.
At the top of the stairs was a huge room with a gigantic bed on a simple log frame, the headboard filled with books.
Robyn dropped my hand, muttering, "one sec," before crossing the room to disappear into an arched doorway that led to a large walk-in closet.
I stood stock-still. I was standing in Robyn Ward's bedroom.
I glanced around nervously, shifting uncomfortably and trying not to stare at the bed. I felt like a voyeur, and it was not a pleasant feeling.
Robyn emerged from the closet and tossed a shirt at me. I snagged it out of the air on pure reflex, the rest of my body still to busy trying not to look the bed, where Robyn slept, every night, wearing god knows what, or what not…
"It's getting a little chilly."
Robyn's words drew my attention thankfully away from not looking at the bed, and I followed her through a sliding glass door, out onto another deck. This one smaller and more cozy; offering an even better view, with a low table and two large adirondack chairs taking up most of the space. Robyn set her wine down on the table and threaded her long arms through the sleeves of the shirt she had brought out, buttoned up a few of the buttons, and sat down in one of the chairs, motioning for me to take other.
I set my wine glass next to hers on the table and quickly pulled the shirt she had handed me over my head, settling it down around my torso. The cloth was soft and warm against the skin of my arms, and it smelled like her…I had to stop myself from burying my face in the folds and just breathing the scent of her in.
Difficult to explain that kind of behavior.
I settled into the chair, and we sat looking over the city, not speaking. Or rather Robyn sat looking over the city - I spent more of my time watching Robyn's profile in the dim light, wanting to trace every curve, every line, every hollow.
"This is a great place, Robyn," I said eventually, dragging my eyes back to the cityscape.
"Yeah," she sighed contentedly, "I love it here."
"I can see why."
She picked up her glass and held it balanced on her stomach, tracing the rim absently with a thin, elegant finger. "I'm going to miss it. I'll be gone most of the summer filming on another project. Lynne Wesson's latest. We'll be on location in the Florida Keys for about half of it, and then in New York for soundstage work."
I loved her hands. The fingers were long and slender, strong and graceful…she used her hands often when she spoke, and I'd caught myself several times that evening, mesmerized by the movements of those hands.
Her words finally registered, and I dragged my eyes away from her hands and leaned forward. Lynne Wesson was a hot independent director, and landing a role in one of her movies was quite a coup. "Lynne Wesson? Robyn, that's great! Hell, that's fantastic!" I touched her on the arm. "Congratulations."
She looked over at me with a pleased, slightly embarrassed smile. "Thanks. I'm a little freaked out about it, to be completely honest. I don't even know how in the hell I got the part." She laughed and shook her head. "I didn't even see the script first - I just got this call out of the blue from one of Lynne's assistants, wondering if I wanted to read for a part in her new film. Auditions were in New York and damn, I couldn't get on the plane fast enough. I met her, and after we'd talked about five minutes - kind of weirding me out because she kept staring at me - she told me I had the part, handed me the script, and left. I didn't even have to read for it. It was pretty damn strange, but I'm not complaining."
"I bet you're not. Have you done films before?"
"No…well, a made for TV thing a few years back, but nothing like this. And the part is a good one, too. The movie's about a thirty-something family man from the mid-west who just walks out on his life one day and goes to the Florida Keys to try
At the top of the stairs was a huge room with a gigantic bed on a simple log frame, the headboard filled with books.
Robyn dropped my hand, muttering, "one sec," before crossing the room to disappear into an arched doorway that led to a large walk-in closet.
I stood stock-still. I was standing in Robyn Ward's bedroom.
I glanced around nervously, shifting uncomfortably and trying not to stare at the bed. I felt like a voyeur, and it was not a pleasant feeling.
Robyn emerged from the closet and tossed a shirt at me. I snagged it out of the air on pure reflex, the rest of my body still to busy trying not to look the bed, where Robyn slept, every night, wearing god knows what, or what not…
"It's getting a little chilly."
Robyn's words drew my attention thankfully away from not looking at the bed, and I followed her through a sliding glass door, out onto another deck. This one smaller and more cozy; offering an even better view, with a low table and two large adirondack chairs taking up most of the space. Robyn set her wine down on the table and threaded her long arms through the sleeves of the shirt she had brought out, buttoned up a few of the buttons, and sat down in one of the chairs, motioning for me to take other.
I set my wine glass next to hers on the table and quickly pulled the shirt she had handed me over my head, settling it down around my torso. The cloth was soft and warm against the skin of my arms, and it smelled like her…I had to stop myself from burying my face in the folds and just breathing the scent of her in.
Difficult to explain that kind of behavior.
I settled into the chair, and we sat looking over the city, not speaking. Or rather Robyn sat looking over the city - I spent more of my time watching Robyn's profile in the dim light, wanting to trace every curve, every line, every hollow.
"This is a great place, Robyn," I said eventually, dragging my eyes back to the cityscape.
"Yeah," she sighed contentedly, "I love it here."
"I can see why."
She picked up her glass and held it balanced on her stomach, tracing the rim absently with a thin, elegant finger. "I'm going to miss it. I'll be gone most of the summer filming on another project. Lynne Wesson's latest. We'll be on location in the Florida Keys for about half of it, and then in New York for soundstage work."
I loved her hands. The fingers were long and slender, strong and graceful…she used her hands often when she spoke, and I'd caught myself several times that evening, mesmerized by the movements of those hands.
Her words finally registered, and I dragged my eyes away from her hands and leaned forward. Lynne Wesson was a hot independent director, and landing a role in one of her movies was quite a coup. "Lynne Wesson? Robyn, that's great! Hell, that's fantastic!" I touched her on the arm. "Congratulations."
She looked over at me with a pleased, slightly embarrassed smile. "Thanks. I'm a little freaked out about it, to be completely honest. I don't even know how in the hell I got the part." She laughed and shook her head. "I didn't even see the script first - I just got this call out of the blue from one of Lynne's assistants, wondering if I wanted to read for a part in her new film. Auditions were in New York and damn, I couldn't get on the plane fast enough. I met her, and after we'd talked about five minutes - kind of weirding me out because she kept staring at me - she told me I had the part, handed me the script, and left. I didn't even have to read for it. It was pretty damn strange, but I'm not complaining."
"I bet you're not. Have you done films before?"
"No…well, a made for TV thing a few years back, but nothing like this. And the part is a good one, too. The movie's about a thirty-something family man from the mid-west who just walks out on his life one day and goes to the Florida Keys to try
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