Part 10 (1/2)

”Most guys are,” I said, picking up a picture frame and peering down at it. ”Who's this?”

”Wow, you are nosey, aren't you?”

”I'm just trying to get a feel for it,” I told him. ”How does a young bachelor live on the other side of the poverty line.”

He burst out laughing. ”You really do think I'm a sn.o.b, don't you?”

”Nate, you wear a tie to work everyday,” I pointed out. ”I mean, come on.”

He came over to me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight. ”You like my ties,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. ”Admit it.”

”Never,” I murmured, raising my face for a kiss.

”Nuh-uh,” he said. ”No kisses until you admit it. You like me in a suit.”

”Fine,” I conceded as he pulled me even closer. ”I like you in a suit.”

”Thought so,” he murmured, his mouth inches from mine. Then he was kissing me, and any objection I may have had toward his ties was long gone.

We were interrupted by the sound of Nate's cell phone. He groaned against my mouth before releasing me. ”I should get that,” he said. ”I'm expecting to hear from one of my coworkers.”

As he rummaged through his jacket pockets for his phone, I continued my exploration of his apartment. It was very clean, and surprisingly put-together. His walls were not the inst.i.tutional beige of most apartments of this caliber; instead they were painted in soft blues and grays. I wondered if he had painted them himself, and allowed myself a smile at the mental image of Nate at the home goods store planning his color scheme.

I wandered into the bedroom. Nate had a large queen-sized bed, neatly made up with a blue and green plaid comforter-another surprise. While I occasionally made my bed while cleaning my room, I rarely did so on a regular basis. I pictured him getting ready for work, rus.h.i.+ng around in an unb.u.t.toned dress s.h.i.+rt, making some coffee and grabbing some toast to eat. Then taking the time to make his bed before he left. The thought made me smile.

Then again, maybe he had only made the bed because he knew I would be here tonight.

I walked back to the living room. Nate was sitting at his dining table, deep in conversation on his cell phone. He waved to me as I entered and rolled his eyes a little in apology.

I walked over to his bookshelf, examining the t.i.tles. You can tell a lot about a person by the books they keep on their shelf. His was eclectic, a mix of cla.s.sics and modern thrillers.

My attention was caught by a leather-bound photo alb.u.m on the bottom shelf. I picked it up and went over to the couch. Opening to the front of the book, I found photo after photo of Nate smiling up at me. He looked younger in most of them, and I suspected they were from his high school and college years. Pictures of Nate with an older couple (his parents?) in front of a Christmas tree, Nate dressed in a ski suit on a white-covered slope, Nate standing with a group of guys in shorts around a bonfire. A typical, middle-cla.s.s life of a fairly happy and popular guy.

As I flicked through the pages, I began to notice a trend. There were a lot of pictures here of Nate with women. A few looked like they could be friends, or even his sisters. But there were several shots of reoccurring females, arms wrapped possessively around his waist.

Hard for you to fall for someone, eh? I thought to myself. It sure didn't look that way. From this photo alb.u.m alone I could pick out at least five females who had almost definitely been Nate's girlfriends. All within the last few years.

It wasn't that I was jealous. It really didn't matter to me who he had seen, particularly not before I had even known him. But it did serve as a reminder-he'd been around this block before. However he might act like I was special or different, whatever he might say about a lack of girlfriends-all of that was possibly, probably even, an act. A line. Designed to make me feel special and get past my guard.

As I carefully returned the alb.u.m to its shelf, my own phone rang. Not wanting to disturb Nate's work call, I headed back towards his room before I answered.

”h.e.l.lo?”

”h.e.l.lo, Miss Duncan? This is Jenner Collins.”

It felt like my heart stopped for a second before it began pounding much more rapidly then it had been. ”h.e.l.lo, Mr. Collins,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.

”Please, call me Jenner,” he said easily.

”Only if you call me Annie,” I said, in the most pleasant voice I could muster, all the while screaming on the inside for him to get on with it.

”Well, Annie,” he said, ”I'm calling to offer you the role of Jillian in my production of The Curtain and the Window.”

My fingers immediately went numb and I was sure I was about to drop the phone. Was this real? Surely I was dreaming. Jenner Collins-Jenner Collins!-could not possibly be on the other end of my phone offering me a role in his play. It just wasn't possible.

”Annie?” he asked. ”You still there?”

”I...I...yes, I'm here,” I stammered, my throat dry. ”Sorry...I...” Pull yourself together! I ordered. Don't you dare blow this.

”Sorry, Jenner,” I said, my voice stronger now. ”This comes as a pretty big shock to me. I would be thrilled to play Jillian.”

”Wonderful!” he said, sounding amused. I wondered if he had some inkling of the total freak-out occurring in my head. ”I'm glad to hear it. Now, we're on a very short rehearsal schedule, unfortunately. Some opportunities have come up that are going to push the production dates forward a bit. I'll explain it all at rehearsal, but we'd like to start tomorrow. Five o'clock. Can you clear your schedule?”

”Absolutely,” I told him, nodding my head rapidly before I realized he couldn't see me. ”That won't be a problem at all.”

”Great,” he replied. ”We'll be switching up rehearsal s.p.a.ces for a few weeks until we can get into the theater on a regular basis. My a.s.sistant is going to send you an email with the details.”

”That sounds good,” I said, gripping the phone tighter. It still felt like it was about to slip out of my fingers.

”Then I'll see you tomorrow, Annie.”

”I'm looking forward to it,” I replied. ”Thank you so much.”

We said goodbye and I ended the call. I stared down at my phone in shock, still hardly daring to believe the call had actually happened.

I don't know how long I stood like that, staring at my phone, before I finally heard the sound of Nate's voice.

”Annie?” he asked, standing in the doorway to his bedroom. ”What's up?”

I realized then that I was shaking. Literally shaking. I couldn't believe that this was happening to me. It was the moment I had dreamt of my entire life.

”Annie?” he asked again, more sharply. ”What's wrong?”

I looked up at Nate and felt the urge to tell him, to scream it at him, to throw my arms around him and ask him to celebrate with me.

Then it hit me. What the h.e.l.l was I doing? My life was about to change and I was in some strange guy's bedroom? I should be sharing this with Jen and Ginny, no one else. Not Nate, not any man. I stood up, managing to control the trembling in my limbs.

”I got that part,” I said casually. ”Rehearsals start tomorrow.”

”Oh my G.o.d!” he said, his face lighting up. ”That's amazing!”

”Yeah,” I said. ”I better get going though. Lots to do. And I need to get home to tell the girls.”

I saw his face fall, but I couldn't let myself worry about it. I knew what I was doing.