BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Ten

That day at work was the most excruciating Chloe had ever endured in her entire career at Premiere Advertising. And when she worked for Ginger, Princess, and Staci on a daily basis, that was saying something. While her work load was no more insane than it usually was, she sat on pins and needles all day, worrying about Teri, and waiting for Philip to call.

Okay, don't get all worked up, she thought. Maybe he'll decide against it and not call. Or he could call to cancel. After all, you made him miss out on a lay last night... She paused. No. He gave up that lay and he did it for you. Her heart pounded. That means he's going to call! I have to get worked up! My inner fan-girl demands it!

She dived for the phone each time it rang. Even Ginger was surprised at her unprecedented show of enthusiasm for taking her calls. Not enough to praise her in any way, or let Chloe choose her own ringtone, but still...

At around two o'clock, Hollaback Girl rang from the silver phone beside the computer keyboard. Chloe still couldn't stand the song, and yet, all day she'd been hoping to hear it. Later, she would probably look back on this entire afternoon and laugh at her silly behavior. Now, though, she answered the call barely two seconds into the ringtone.

"Chloe Ashton," she said, breathlessly.

"Chloe! That's it... I've been trying to remember all day."

Her heart rate doubled, the organ leaping joyfully into her throat at the sound of Philip's voice. She glanced at Ginger's partially open office door and cupped her hand around the phone's receiver. "Just a second," she said, softly.

She muted the phone and bolted from the desk, saying "Bathroom break!" as she sped past Ginger's office without waiting for a response. She opened the door of a nearby utility closet, the closest empty room, and locked herself inside. Sitting down on a stepladder, she unmuted the phone.

"Philip?"

"I'm here."

She smiled broadly, unable to help herself. "It's so good to hear from you," she said, then promptly sneezed. The dust in the closet was getting to her sinuses a bit.

"Gazuntheit. You're not sick, are you?"

"No!" she said, adamantly, then toned it down a little. "No, I'm not sick. It's just... I'm kind of in a closet."

"In a closet? Should I take pictures?"

"...Huh?"

"You said... Never mind. Why are you in a closet?"

"If Ginger finds out I'm talking to you, she's going to want to know why. If I tell her you're taking me out... You are still taking me out?"

"Of course."

"If I say that, I'm toast. I can't wait by the way," she said, smiling. "And if I lie and say you're calling for her, then you're toast, because then you'll have to talk to her."

"I'll need to talk to her sometime," he said. "I have to tell her my perfectly concocted excuse for not wanting to see her, socially, anymore."

"Which is?"

"That I don't think it's wise to date someone who works for me." He sounded pretty proud of himself.

Chloe nodded. "That could work. Ginger will be torn between wanting you like no other and her pride as an advertising agent. But she'll undoubtedly point out that she won't be working for you forever. The contract for promoting this film is up in a few weeks."

"I'm not worried. I plan to be otherwise occupied by then." Before Chloe could ponder too deeply the implications in that statement, he went on. "Now, about our date tonight..."

"Yes!" she said, excitedly. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he said, smugly. "Which is why you have to tell me where you live."

"A clever ploy." She gave him the address to her little apartment. "Don't blink as you go by, otherwise you might miss it."

"Very funny."

"How should I dress, since I have no idea where we're going?"

He pondered for a moment. "Dress up."

She grinned. Since he'd only ever seen her in the sweats and t-shirts she wore to work, he probably thought even if they were going someplace casual, he should tell her to dress up. "I don't always dress down," she said. "Does that alter the dress code at all?"

"No," he said. "Dress up. And it hasn't bothered me when you've dressed down. You look cute in sweats."

"You are lying through your teeth, but it's very sweet of you."

He laughed. "What time do you get off work?"

"Five. I will absolutely leave at five, no matter what Ginger wants me to do."

"All right. How about I pick you up at seven?"

"Great."

"I'll see you then, Candy."

"Chloe."

"Right; Chloe."

"I can't wait." She hung up the phone and exited the closet. As she headed back to her desk, she knew the day was going to drag like no other. Five o'clock couldn't come fast enough.


She got home around six, despite what she had said to Philip. Ginger would not listen to Chloe's repeated statement that she was no longer obligated to be at work past five. Even so, she didn't get to leave until after five-thirty. But an hour was plenty of time in which to get ready for Philip. Or, at least, that was what she thought.

The entire contents of her closet lay strewn around her room by the time she'd figured out what to wear. Since her weight had been fluctuating so much in the past couple of months, her clothes were many different sizes. All of her especially sexy clothes were now too small for her, and most of the other dresses in the closet were either too big or frumpy, or both. At last, she pulled out a little black dress with pink and purple flowers and white pin-dots from the pile. It wrapped around her, cinching in her waist, and dipping low at the top, and high at the bottom, revealing lots of cleavage and leg. It was a little small, but control top pantyhose took care of that problem. And it was the only thing she considered to be remotely appropriate for tonight.

She washed her hair with cold water so it would be shiny, a trick she'd learned from Tessa. But because of the cold water, blow drying took forever and she knew she wouldn't have enough time to flat iron it.

The job Chloe did on her make-up was, admittedly, not the best. Since she hardly ever bothered with it, it felt like she was wearing about a pound and a half of the stuff on her face. In fact, she might have been... She was never sure if she put enough on. How does Dennis make it feel so weightless? As she looked at herself in the mirror, she sighed and picked up a washcloth, beginning to scrub it off.

Philip wants to see me tonight, not Miss C. I can just be myself. Be real. He likes that.

In the end, all she went with was a little mascara so her eyelashes were actually visible and a great lipstick that Teri had bought for her a while back. She looked at the finished product and nodded. All right, so it was no where near the masterpiece Dennis turned out, but she looked like Chloe and she looked pretty darn good. She just hoped Philip would think so, too.

She was just slipping on her shoes when the doorbell rang. Her heart thudded loudly and she struggled to calm down as she picked up her purse and went to the door. Okay, so Philip Carter Grayson is taking you to dinner... It's nothing to have a heart attack over. Just calm down. The last thing you want is to throw up all over him. Mortified by just the thought of that happening, she almost tripped on the rug in front of the door, but luckily steadied herself and, calmly, she turned the knob.

Her mouth watered at the sight of him in his black jeans, collared shirt, and jacket, and her heart started pounding all over again. Now, here was something she had not thought of. Her body was starting to remember what had almost happened the night before and suddenly the urge to jump on him and start going at it like wild sweaty monkeys was nearly overwhelming.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression becoming somewhat concerned. Oh, no, she thought. I think he just said something and I completely missed it!

"I-I'm sorry," she said. "You kind of... startled me. You look..." Delicious. "...wonderful."

"Thank you," he said, smiling. "I was actually just saying the same thing."

"Oh... Well, since I missed it, would you mind saying it again?"

"Not at all, it bears repeating." He extended a large pink Gerber daisy decorated with a red ribbon to her. "You look beautiful."

She blushed, grinning goofily. "Thank you..."

"So, this is your apartment?" he asked, trying to see inside.

Immediately, she came outside and closed the door. "It's a mess, you don't want to see it, trust me." Chloe hadn't ever had a chance to clean up all of her wedding plans and samples since the whole fiasco. She didn't want Philip to see those, as well as the rest of the mess scattered about.

"All right. Shall we go?" He gestured to his car at the curb. "I trust there isn't any coffee on your shoes this time?" he teased with a grin.

"There wasn't any last--" She nearly swallowed her tongue. He was talking about yesterday morning, not last night! Duh, Chloe! "Laaaaasting stain remover," she said, covering badly. "I had to throw those shoes away."

"So, I really do owe you new shoes," he said.

As they walked down the steps to his car, his hand found its way to the small of her back. His touch was light, but her mouth went dry just the same. "L-Like I said, that's not necessary," she stuttered slightly. "Those shoes were about three years old, it was time to throw them out anyway, so really, you kind of did me a favor. I can get a new pair at Payless for about five bucks."

"Let me go with you," he said as he opened the car door for her.

"Why?"

"Because it's been ages since I've seen the inside of a Payless." He grinned. "Why do you think? So I can buy the shoes for you."

"I may not be extremely wealthy, but I assure you, I can afford five dollar shoes."

"That's not what I was trying to imply..." he said, apologetically.

"Philip... I was kidding." She smiled. "Now can we go? I really would like to find out where we're eating tonight."

He laughed slightly. "You got it." He went around to the other side of the car and they drove off.

As he drove, Chloe was aware of Philip glancing at her, probably wondering why she was so fidgety. She was tapping her feet on the floor of the car, clasping and unclasping her hands, folding and unfolding her arms. She just couldn't seem to get comfortable, and no wonder... Certain parts of her body were demanding attention that they simply were not getting. Her face felt hot, it was probably turning red, and she just had to hope that Philip wouldn't notice. How would she explain herself?

You see, Philip, just last night were going to screw like crazed weasels before you turned me down in favor of tonight's date, which was really sweet and all, but its left me in a state of considerable frustration. I'm sure you can empathize. What's say we skip dinner and head directly for the backseat, huh? No, she didn't think that'd go over too well. After what he'd said about wanting someone who was real, how could she tell him she'd been pretending to be someone else half the time he'd seen her?

"Are you all right?" he asked, finally.

"I'm fine," she said, albeit somewhat breathlessly.

"You don't look very comfortable."

"If you were on a date with yourself, would you be comfortable?" She paused, shaking her head. "That didn't come out right, I'm sorry. It's just... this is our 'first date,' you know?"

"No, lunch was our first date."

"No, that was our first lunch. This is our first date."

"I asked you out, and I paid for the food, that makes it a date."

"Fine. This is our first dinner." She grinned, knowing he couldn't argue with that. "It's just a little intimidating being out with you, Philip; first date, or no."

"Why? We've gone out before."

"Yeah... But this time, it's for real. You're not paying me back for anything, you wanted to do this."

"I wanted to take you out to lunch, too."

"I know you did..." She sighed. "I'm saying this all wrong..."

Briefly, after switching gears, he took her hand in his and squeezed it slightly before returning to the gearshift. He glanced at her and smiled. "It's all right. Just tell me what you want to say."

She bit her lip. "You might think it's stupid."

"Yeah. And I might not. Tell me."

She paused. "People are going to look at us and wonder what you're doing with me. Or, what I'm doing with you. I don't... belong with you."

He pulled over, stopped the car, and turned to look at her, very seriously. "It's not stupid. You're really feeling that way, and that makes it important. But listen to me... I don't care what anyone may or may not think about us or our date. I don't even care what might be printed in the papers a few days from now. I care about what you think. Do you want to be with me tonight?"

"Yes." In more ways than three.

"Then you shouldn't care if people think you 'belong' with me or not. I am being perfectly honest when I tell you that there is no one I would rather be with right now, than you."

You proved that last night. "I feel the same way." She smiled. "Sorry about all that... I've been naturally insecure since I was a kid. Can we just forget what I said and have a good time tonight?"

"Of course," he said, smiling back. He gestured to the building he'd parked outside of. "We're here, anyway."

Chloe looked out the window to see the façade of an extremely exclusive, very expensive Moroccan restaurant and her eyes widened. At the same time, a great deal of tension lifted off of her shoulders. Not even Ginger could get a table at this place. The date was now guaranteed bitch-free.

"It looks wonderful."


Once they'd ordered their food, most of the dishes coming on Philip's recommendation, Chloe discovered another problem. It was exceedingly hard to come up with topics of discussion when all her mind wanted to think about was sex. What made matters worse was the fact that the table was one of those low-to-the-ground ones where they had to lounge on many large, luxurious pillows rather than chairs.

Holy God... It's like we're practically on a bed. She watched as he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. HOW does he manage to make that look so damn sexy?

That, combined with the dim lighting, the in-closed private area formed by several almost-sheer curtains, and the heady atmosphere from some exotic incense, and her imagination had far better things to mull over besides talking.

Philip, for his part, was not faring much better it seemed. He smiled at her, but he seemed a bit uncomfortable, and that discomfort was showing in his lack of conversation. So far, it had gone thusly:

"So... Nice place."

Philip nodded, glancing around a bit. "Uh-huh... It's very nice. Do you like it?"

Blink. "Yeeeeah... It's nice."

"Oh... Right."

Pause.

He ran his hand along a pillow. "I wonder if this is silk..."

She did likewise. "I'm not sure... It feels like silk."

Pause.

"It smells good in here," said Chloe.

"Yep, it sure does. Must be a combination of the food and the incense."

"Must be."

Paaaaaaaaaause.

Finally, she turned on her side, propping her chin up in one hand as she leaned on the pillows. "You seem nervous."

"Well... I want to make a good impression. But there's something I need to tell you and I'm not quite sure how... I'm, uh... I mean, there's this, um... You see..."

"Would it help if you spoke in the third person again?"

He paused. "Philip has to tell you that..." He stopped. "No. No, it doesn't help at all." He looked more uncomfortable than ever.

Chloe thought about what she could do. Come on, Chloe... He said you're the one who makes him feel comfortable. What do you think would ease tension on a first date? Suddenly, inspiration struck, and the idea would probably help both problems. She looked up at him and smiled. "I think what we need to do is start at the end of the date and work backwards."

"What?"

"Well, think about it. If we do the end of the date now, then we won't be all nervous when it actually comes up. We won't have to do the will-they-or-won't-they dance. That should ease up some of the tension." She straightened a bit and scooted closer to him. "You're an actor. Just follow my direction. It's the end of the night; you walk me up to my apartment door. My line is: Gosh, Philip, I sure had a great time tonight."

"Yeah, that's your line in a cheesy 50s movie..."

"Shut up, I'm the director here. And now, you say..." She made a prompting gesture.

He laughed slightly. "Yes, Chloe, I really had a great time, too. We should exchange phone numbers and do this again sometime."

"Sure, Philip, I would love that. Okay, now I glance at my door, fiddle with my keys, look at the ground, bite my lip, look at you hopefully..." She leaned in close to tell him in a stage-whisper, "This is your cue to lean in."

"Oh, right..."

He found the curve where her waist met her hip with his free hand and leaned in to gently kiss her. She opened for him almost instantly, giving him permission for a deeper kiss. After a few seconds of this, his hand traveled up her body to thread itself in her hair and he tilted her head to his. She wasn't sure when he had come closer to her, but suddenly she could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto hers. Her free hand came up to rest on his chest and she could feel the beat of his heart, racing fast.

When he pulled away after a long moment, her eyes remained closed for a bit as she basked in the afterglow of that kiss.

"Honey, that was a great rehearsal. I can't wait for the show," she said, without thinking. Instantly, she realized she had sounded remarkably like Miss C just then! Well, duh, you are Miss C! "I mean, um..."

"I think I know what you mean," he said. "And thanks..." He gave her a slow smile. "That did clear up some tension."

"No problem," she said, relieved that he hadn't appeared to notice her slip.


Philip had been thinking all night that something about her seemed familiar. He couldn't put his finger on it, and it didn't seem to make much sense, because she was completely different from anyone he'd ever known. Why did he feel like he knew her just a little better than he should? It wasn't a kind of 'oh-my-God-I've-known-you-my-whole-life' feeling, although they did seem to have quite a few similar viewpoints on things, and he was more comfortable around her than anyone else, it was more a... déjà vu feeling. Where have I felt this before?

And then that kiss. Good Lord, when she'd curled up on her side like that and he saw the curve of her waist, the slow rise and fall of her decollate, he'd wanted to kiss her right then and there. Hell, he'd wanted to bury her in the pillows they were sitting on and have his way with her. But that kiss had been achingly familiar. The same familiarity that had sparked when he'd given her the chaste kiss in the Starbucks parking lot, but about one hundred times more intense. And it wasn't a fiery intensity, more like a slow burn... Like she wanted to take her time and enjoy him to the fullest while the flames grew higher and higher... God, he wanted this woman!

But it bugged him to no end that he couldn't figure out exactly why she seemed so familiar! Of course, he didn't want to say anything; she'd probably think he was a complete schitzo. You already can't remember her name; let's not add to your list of negative qualities, all right? Not only that, but he really needed to tell her something important and he couldn't quite find the right moment. Why potentially spoil a perfectly great evening, after all? Sure... That's your reasoning and you're sticking to it.

Their conversation was still suffering somewhat, despite the considerably relieved tension. Occasionally, something she said would spark a strange remembrance, a memory that wouldn't quite be recalled, which would drive him crazy, or he'd attempt to talk about some non-committal subject and she'd stare off into space. Well, not exactly into space... She was quite plainly staring at him. Each time, she'd blush to the roots of her hair and apologize, just as she was doing at that moment.

"I'm sorry," she said for the third time. "You do realize how difficult it is to talk in your presence, don't you?"

"Um... No."

She stared at him, incredulously. "How many times must I remind you how hot you are? I swear, I really, truly, am trying to pay attention to the conversation... but when you're sitting there looking so damn hyper-cute-- No, this has gone way beyond hyper-cute. This is more like mega-hyper-cute. How can my brain compete with that?"

He laughed. "While I find this incredibly flattering and my head is swelling up as we speak, I really think you might be exaggerating just a little bit."

"You also have to remember that, on the inside, I'm jumping up and down like your typical rabid fan-girl. Keeping up with conversation is indeed a feat for me right now."

He smiled, an interesting turn of phrase about lack of conversation coming to mind. "Have you ever met someone you'd just like to--" He stopped, remembering that she had told him the state of her sexuality once before. "Well... I guess you haven't."

"Yes, I have!" she insisted.

He blinked. "How did you know what I was going to say?"


Chloe's eyes were huge. She'd really blown it this time! It was proving really difficult to pretend to be two people, especially when her mind was actively engrossed largely by fantasies, rather than concentrating on not giving anything away.

This really would be so much easier if I could just tell him it was me. I had tried to before, but with all the interruptions I never got the chance... And now, after all the talk about being real, he'd hate me if I told him Miss C really is just me.

That in mind, her large eyes blinked a few times as she struggled to come up with a reason why she knew the ending to the sentence he hadn't finished. "I... I didn't."

"Then... How could you answer me?"

"I... guessed?" She shrugged, hoping he would believe her. "Given our current conversation, you were probably going to say something like, 'Have you ever met someone you'd just like to skip all the small talk with and... make out with them until their head explodes with raspberry jam?'" Yeah, that sounded intelligent. For a third grader. But I couldn't just repeat what I said before!

He stared at her for a moment, then laughed. "That was disgusting."

"Oh... Would you prefer strawberry?"

They laughed again, and Chloe breathed a mental sigh of relief. She really needed to stop zoning out, or she was going to blow this evening, big time.

Luckily, there were no more "slips" the rest of dinner. And Chloe found herself sufficiently spooked by that mistake to actually pay attention to what they were talking about, as difficult as it was to ignore the raging beast that wanted to jump his bones right in the restaurant.

At the same time, however, it irked her just the tiniest bit that Philip wasn't putting the pieces of the puzzle together. She had been so certain she'd given herself away that last time, and yet he hadn't made the connection. He might have been about to, but still... Was it so inconceivable that plain Chloe could be the fabulous Miss C? How... depressing.

Hey, you should be glad he doesn't know! she chided herself. Remember, he'll hate you if he finds out, so quit your bitching!


After a perfectly wonderful meal of savory Moroccan food and much improved conversation, Chloe found her mood descending as Philip drove them back toward her place. The evening hadn't seemed very long at all, and now that she was headed home, suddenly the date was almost over. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't invite him in; even if he overlooked all the abandoned wedding plans, her place was still a huge mess, he hadn't said anything about going back to his hotel room, and she had no idea if it was considered proper dating etiquette to suggest going to someone else's hotel room.

Is this going to be good-bye? she thought, apprehension growing. She hoped not.

He pulled the car up to the curb and went around to the passenger side to open the door for her. She chewed on her bottom lip slightly as she took his hand to get out of the car, wondering if she should extend the invite anyway, precluded with a warning about the state of her apartment, of course. Anything to elongate the evening. But would he turn her down? It was a possibility. She wasn't sure if she could handle that...

"Philip," she began, when suddenly the last voice she expected to hear cut through the night.

"Chloe!"

With dread, she turned her head to see Jason hurrying down the steps from her door. He no longer had his key, so he must have just been knocking when they showed up. Reflexively, the hand still in Philip's grasp tightened.

"Jason, what the fuck are you doing here?" she asked, absolutely certain she didn't want to know the answer.

"Chloe, I was an idiot," he said, looking for all the world like a beaten puppy. "Please, you have to take me back. I swear, I'm a changed man, I just didn't realize what I had, but I know now that you're the only one I've ever wanted..."

She was only too aware that he'd used the words 'you have to,' and there wasn't one mention of the word 'love.' He hadn't said it since before they'd gotten engaged. Even when he groveled he was still an asshole. Unbelievable...

"You just had to darken my doorstep tonight, didn't you?" she asked.

"Excuse me," said Philip, looking back and forth between the two of them before settling again on Chloe. "Who is this?"

Jason looked at Philip, the puppy expression immediately changing to one of hostility. "I'm her fiancé," he informed the other man before Chloe had a chance to open her mouth.

Philip's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ex-fiancé, last I heard," he said, still not relinquishing the hand in his own.

Jason huffed, bristling almost visibly. "I was just working some stuff out..."

"Yeah," said Chloe, becoming angrier by the minute. "You had to 'work stuff out' with one of my bosses and a drag queen!"

"And correct me if I'm wrong," added Philip, not commenting on the strangeness of Chloe's previous statement. "Weren't you the one who left her five days before the wedding? I think you had your chance with her, George."

Internally, Chloe groaned. Philip's attempt at remembering a name he'd only heard once wasn't even close, and if Jason really hadn't changed, she knew exactly how he'd react.

Predictably, Jason's hands balled into fists. "Are you making fun of me, buddy?"

"If I was making fun of you, it would be obvious. What I'm going for now is disdain, although I suppose this part right here would be qualified as sarcasm."

His expression was one of mounting fury and Chloe prayed Jason wouldn't do something stupid. "Look," she said. "Jason, I really don't want to talk to you, right now or ever again, so--"

"Shut up, Chloe!"

Philip took a step closer to Jason, raising a hand threateningly. "Hey, don't tell her to shut up, asshole!"

Time suspended for precisely one second as she watched Jason's fist draw back and hang in the air for just a moment. What was worse, Philip took a defensive stance against the coming attack, rather than get out of the way. Chloe extended a hand as though she could stop what was about to happen through mere force of will.

"Philip, don't! He's--"

Crack.


Chloe handed Philip a Vicodin and a glass of water, and she gently pressed a baggie of ice to his jaw as she sat down next to him on her couch.

"Ouch... Thanks," he said, after swallowing the pill.

"For what? My ex punching you in the jaw?" she asked, miserably.

"For letting me into your apartment and taking care of me. You couldn't have told me he was a black belt a little sooner?"

"I tried. There didn't seem to be enough time to get all the words out as his fist arced through the air toward your face."

He winced and handed the glass back to her, taking charge of the ice himself. She placed it on the coffee table after shoving some papers out of the way. Some of them fell on the floor, but she didn't bother to pick them up.

"I'm sorry my ex is an idiot," she said.

"I'm not. If he wasn't, then presumably, I never would have gotten the chance to date you."

She smiled, blushing. "You're very sweet. Too sweet for just having been slugged on my account. You must be feeling the Vicodin already."

He grinned, then winced as the action brought a flash of pain to his sore jaw. An answering wince of sympathy crossed Chloe's features.

"You're going to have a massive bruise," she said. "That's not good... An actor's face is crucial."

"It can be covered with makeup. Jim Carrey has a chipped tooth right in the front they always cover up."

"I take it you've never met him."

He shook his head. "I wish I had, even though it means I'll never remember his name again. I hear he's a really intelligent guy, if kind of nuts."

"After tonight's display, I could say the same thing about you," she said.

There was a pause as he reached out and traced a random design with his fingertip on the back of one of her hands before taking it in his. "I need to tell you something," he said.

That doesn't sound good, she thought. "What?" she asked.

"I've wanted to tell you all night. I think it's the fact that I am rapidly becoming quite doped on Vicodin that I'm getting the courage now."

"Okay..."

He brought her hand to his lips before he continued. She stifled a sigh as nerve endings jumped to life and a tingling sensation leapt from the spot.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Her heart stuttered. "What?"

"I have to go back to L.A."

Cold lead settled in her stomach. "So... this is goodbye."

"No!" he denied adamantly, wincing at the pain it caused. "No, I don't want this to be goodbye. More like... goodbye for now."

Something in her resisted the euphoric feeling that threatened to fill her. If it sounded too good to be true, it usually was, after all. "You really want to see me again?"

"Yes. I do."

The euphoria again threatened to overflow at those words; the words that, thank God, she would never hear Jason say to her. Still, she tried to keep her senses in tact. "You're not going to forget about me when you're once again surrounded by gorgeous babes 24/7?"

"Believe me," he said. "I don't think I could ever forget you."

Maybe not forget, but you won't recognize me, came a tiny, unbidden voice which she hurried to stomp down.

Give him a chance, said an even tinier voice.

You might regret it.

It's better to have loved and lost...

Whoever said that never loved at all.

Do you want to give him up forever?

He tilted his head at her. "Carla?"

She smiled, unable to help herself. "Okay."

His gorgeous blue eyes brightened. "Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated. "How long will you be gone?"

"Well, it's an independent short some on-the-brink director is doing, and it'll probably go to Cannes, but the actual filming should only take a few weeks, maybe a month. But..." He paused. "L.A. is my home. I'm not going to pressure you into anything serious," he said, hurriedly, "but... I can't stay out here indefinitely."

She bit her lip, looking down. "I see." All the good feeling she'd had washed away like low tide. "This is a very temporary thing. Even more temporary than it is now."

"Cori--"

"Chloe."

"Right, Chloe..." He sat up so he could look at her better, setting the ice down on the floor next to the couch. He took both her hands in his. "I..." He hesitated. "Philip--" he began again in third person, but then shook his head. "I," he said, more definitively, "I like you. I like you a lot. Way more then anyone else. You're so different. And when I'm with you, I feel like myself rather than some contrived image. I don't know if something more is going to come of this, but what I do know is that, right now, I can't stand the thought of never seeing you again. If that means I have to get on a plane whenever I want a date, then so be it. Maybe I'm a selfish prick, but I want to see where this can go. You are, quite simply, amazing."

Her head swam, the tide rapidly coming back in. "I am?" she asked, like a child suddenly given a promised toy she'd been denied for far too long.

"To me, you are."

And as he leaned forward to kiss her very gently, she somehow knew that he was telling her the absolute truth.

Of all the kisses they had shared; quick and impersonal, frenzied and passionate, intense and hot; this kiss was so far the best, at least in Chloe's opinion. Wary of hurting his jaw, this kiss was a sweet, gentle exploration; a languid expression of the supernova-like passion she knew they created together, but in no way a pale comparison. Philip had a way of turning even a simple kiss into something explosive. Of course, being an actor might have helped, but if what he said could be believed, then this was just him; no acting involved. He really must feel something for me...

As she carefully kissed him back, she was suddenly very aware of his muscled thigh pressing against her hip. Her temperature rose a few degrees. I want this. It doesn't make much sense, but I want this. I want him. Should I? Am I only being hesitant because I'm scared or because I think I ought to? No... I have to take this opportunity. I've missed too many already. I can't be a coward forever.

Her hands crept up his shirt and, somewhat shakily, her fingers began undoing the buttons. He pulled back then, but only about an inch or so. His eyes searched hers, but she couldn't tell if he was shocked or surprised or what. Maybe it was both.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

Unbidden, came an amused half-smile. "Isn't it obvious?" She swallowed, the smile fading into seriousness, and she glanced down at her lap for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I want to see how far this can go, too."

"That... isn't exactly what I said."

"I know. But don't you want to?"

He was silent for a few seconds before his gaze traveled from her face to her body. As if of its own accord, one of his hands slowly drifted up and traced the line of her collarbone, followed the low collar of her dress, and traveled over the swell of her breasts, lingered there for a moment, and then down into the valley between. Her breath hitched in her throat at the feather-light touch that left goosebumps in its wake. His eyes darted up.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

The smile reappeared. "I think you know, I've never been more sure in my entire life." She felt kind of stupid asking this, like she was stuck inside that horrible movie he'd been in, but she had to ask anyway. "Will you... be careful with me?"

His smile was highly amused, but more than that, extremely understanding. "If you'll be careful with me," he said, indicating his jaw.

"I will."

She leaned forward to kiss him again. The rest of the buttons came undone. Hands and mouths searched, found, played, and searched again, clothing was shed, barriers broken, in more ways than one. Heat rose until she thought her skin might burst into flame. He took his time with her, even when the intensity built so high she writhed against him, thinking she'd had enough of this gentle, considerate loving and wanting him out of control, absolutely knowing she'd go insane unless she found some kind of release for the pressure growing inexorably inside her. But he drew her out, finer than a spider's thread, making her go higher, reach higher, until she could go no further and stars exploded behind her eyes. She shook and screamed and sobbed, and all the while, he held her tightly to him, worshipping her with soft, beautiful words in more than one language. And when it had all come to a stop, he began it all over again.

Chloe was certain neither she nor her couch would ever be the same.


It was around 3:25am when Chloe dialed the phone on the coffee table. She twirled the cord around her fingers, wondering if it would pick up. She'd never called this late before, so she didn't know...

"Hello?"

"Denise?"

"Hey, sugar." She didn't even sound tired, nor did she ask why Chloe was calling so early in the morning. Just how did someone manage to be so perfect in every way? She wasn't Mary Poppins after all... "What can I do for you?"

"I, um... I turned in my V card. I can't punch it any more."

There was a long silence on the other end, and for a moment, Chloe wasn't sure if Denise would know what she meant. Then... "Oh, honey, I am so proud of you!"

She smiled. Good ol' Denise.

"But, why are you calling me?"

Her smile faded instantly. "My two best friends are MIA. I needed a girlfriend to tell, but one's hiding out and the other... I have no idea what's going on with her. I... thought you would understand."

"Sweetheart, we need to have coffee."

A fraction of her smile returned. "And ice cream?"

"Loads of ice cream. Congratulations are in order, after all. And I am going to need a full report. With details, lots of details."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said, her smile now a full-on grin.

She hung up the phone and carefully turned over, snuggling herself back underneath Philip's arm. Worries for Teri and Tessa still ate at her brain, but most of her thought capacity at the moment was taken by one single compulsion: Sleep.

To be continued...