Sunrise Page 16

  “Dayne?” She tilted her head up to him.

  “What?”

  “Why do I have the feeling you have something to tell me?” Katy looked deeply at him, past the teasing and lightheartedness of the moment to the place where only she was allowed. “Something on your mind?”

  “Me?” He kissed her slower this time, then feigned an innocent look. “Nah. I’ve just been waiting the whole night for this moment; that’s all.”

  A slightly worried look darkened her features. “Something wrong?”

  “Not at all.” Dayne put his hand alongside her face. “Everything’s more perfect than I ever dreamed, Katy. I mean it.”

  “Good.” She searched his eyes. “I have to agree with you on the perfect part.”

  He couldn’t wait another minute. “I talked to the director the other day, the one doing my next film.”

  “You told me.” Katy raised the corners of her mouth. “Remember?”

  “I didn’t tell you what we talked about.” Dayne touched his knuckles to her cheek. “’Cause we talked about you.”

  “Really?” She wrinkled her nose. “About the wedding, you mean?”

  “No. About how I’ve found a solution to the issues I’m having with on-screen love scenes.”

  Katy squinted at him. “You’re not serious.”

  “I am.” He started at the beginning. “The director’s a great friend of the guy you read for, the director of Dream On.”

  No question he had her attention now. She pulled the blanket up close to her chin and let him explain.

  Since the leading lady who’d originally been cast opposite Dayne had checked into rehab and was asking for a year off, the role was still open.

  “What about Katy Hart?” Dayne had asked the director. His name was Stephen Petrel, a former screenwriter whose Academy Award–winning scripts eventually earned him the chance to direct his own films. Now he was a legend. America lined up to see his films. Dayne was actually nervous bringing up Katy to him. He usually had very specific ideas about who could and couldn’t play a certain role.

  But as soon as Stephen heard Katy’s name, his tone changed. “You think she’d do it?”

  Dayne wasn’t sure, and he told Stephen as much. All he could do was ask, and if Katy said no . . . he could beg. Because after marrying her and sharing a honeymoon with her, he could think of a dozen reasons why he’d want to spend every waking moment on a set with her. That she was genuine and honest and breathtaking in front of the camera were only a few of them.

  “So it’s up to you.” Dayne held his breath. “Star in it with me, Katy. It’d be the perfect way to start out—side by side on the screen.”

  Her eyes were wide, and she lowered her chin into the blanket. She was clearly considering the possibility. “What’s the plot?”

  Dayne reached for her hands. “It’s a love story.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “But not as good as ours.”

  “Oh, brother.” Katy laughed. “Now you sound like Bryan Smythe.”

  He made a face. “That bad?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Seriously, Dayne. Tell me.”

  “It really is a love story.”

  “Obviously.” She gave him the sweetest slightly sarcastic smile. “You’re starring in it. Of course it’s a love story. It’s girls like the ones we saw tonight who pay to see your films.”

  A laugh caught in his throat, and he couldn’t hold it in. “Sorry.” He took a deep breath and launched into the story. “It’s called But Then Again No. It’s about a guy and a girl who had been inseparable in high school. She gets pregnant, but they’re young, so they put the baby up for adoption and wind up on opposite sides of the country.”

  “End of story?”

  “Beginning.” Dayne wanted to make her fall for the project the way he had. “It starts when their daughter takes an internship at a magazine only to find that her managing editor’s her mother. She becomes driven to get her parents back together.”

  “And she does.” The sparkle was back in Katy’s eyes.

  “She does but it’s complicated.”

  Katy raised her eyebrows. “Complicated can be good.”

  “Yes, it can.” His tone softened. “Two people falling in love even though they couldn’t be any more different.”

  “So the movie tells us whether love’s enough to bring them back together. . . .”

  “Exactly.”

  She pursed her lips. “I like it.”

  “You’ll love the script. It’s brilliant. Stephen wrote it himself.”

  Katy tilted her head. Doubt crept into her eyes. “He really wants to consider me?”

  Dayne didn’t want to tell her exactly what the director had said, because it would scare her. He’d basically said that based on the rave reviews he’d heard about her and the fact that her chemistry with Dayne would be impeccable, if Katy impressed him on the first audition, the part was hers. Dayne held on to that information for another time. “We’ll be in LA in January for the magazine interview anyway. We could stop by the studio, and you could read for him.” Dayne lifted his hands. “Nothing more than that.”

  “He won’t want me.” Katy pulled one knee up and hugged it. “I have no real experience.”

  “For this part, that could be a good thing. Because there’s a side to the female lead that’s hard and jaded. But when she’s with her love, she’s as guileless as—” he let himself get lost in her eyes—“as guileless as you.”

  For a minute they said nothing. Katy rested her head on his shoulder, and he was drawn into the steady rhythm of her breathing.

  After a while she looked up at him. “What about working together? I mean, if by a long shot I won the part?”

  Dayne shifted so his face was closer to hers, and he kissed her. “I can’t imagine anything better. The film’s a must. I’ll be in Los Angeles for six weeks and three more in Arizona for the location scenes.” He ran his fingers down the length of her arm. “We have three choices. You stay here, and I leave for more than two months. Or you follow me around, staying with me in the Malibu house and hanging out on the set. Watching me do a thousand love scenes with someone else. Spending all those weeks on the sidelines.”

  “Not bad.” Katy nuzzled her face against his. “Anytime I’m near you I’m happy.”

  His lips found hers, and it took a few seconds to remember what he’d been saying. “The third option is that we—” he kissed her once more—“get to do this—” another kiss—“and call it work.”

  “One problem.” She worked her fingers into the roots of his hair and back along his neck.

  “What?” His voice had fallen to a throaty whisper. Desire filled him.

  Katy released her leg and slid closer to him. “I couldn’t possibly take money for doing something I love so much.”

  Dayne moved so there were a few inches between them. He steadied himself. “I think you have the lovin’ part down.”

  Her eyes held an innocence he doubted she was feeling. “Practice is always a good thing.”

  “Not always.” Dayne wagged his finger at her. She was only teasing him, stretching out their pending good-bye. He kissed his fingers and pressed them to her lips. “It’s late; I have to go.” He stood. “Can I tell the director you’ll read for the part when we’re out there in January?”

  Katy didn’t look ready for Dayne to leave, but she moved slowly to her feet. “Yes. I’ll do it for you.” She smiled, clearly struggling the same as him. Saying good-bye was never easy, but in three months they’d never have to say good-bye again. Not like this.

  Suddenly her words registered inside him. “You’ll do it?” He’d expected her to say no, to tell him that she would be there and watch from the outside, but that after the stalker and the way the paparazzi had nearly killed him, she couldn’t put herself square in the limelight.

  What had come over her? Dayne hugged her but not with the passion of a moment ago. Rather with a grateful heart
, because the young woman in his arms was willing to climb out of her Bloomington box and take a step that could change her life. Forever. As long as she took the step next to him, it could only change things for the better.

  As Katy held on to him, he found his answer. The reason she was willing to read for the director or take a part in a movie even though she was nervous around the press. He knew what had come over her, because it filled her voice and her touch and her eyes as deep as her soul.

  Katy loved him, and he loved her. Period. And no movie, no audition, no stalker, and no amount of fame could ever do anything to change that.

  Tip-off for Cole’s first basketball game as a Peewee Cougar was at five o’clock sharp Friday evening nine days before Christmas. Many of the Baxter family and all the Flanigans were present for the event, and Ashley couldn’t have been more proud. She stood and clapped, her hands raised in the air. “Let’s go, Coley! Come on, Cougars!”

  Next to her Landon was on his feet too. “You can do it, buddy.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Remember what we talked about!”

  The brief talk had taken place half an hour before they left for the game. Landon stooped down so he was face-to-face with Cole. “You love basketball, right?”

  “Yes.” Cole had his game face on, serious eyes, his brow lowered in conqueror mode. “I love it like crazy.”

  “Okay then.” Landon stood and messed up Cole’s hair with his fingers. “Go out and play like you love it. Don’t be afraid, and remember that anytime God gives you a gift, you need to use it to the best of your ability. So when you get out there . . . play for Jesus.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Duly advised, Cole pumped his fist in the air, took a running leap, and banged his chest against Landon’s. “Chest thumps! That’s how they do it in the pros before a game, Daddy.”

  Ashley could’ve dropped to her knees and melted into a puddle. Every time Cole called Landon Daddy, the sound took her breath away. How many years had she and Cole lived alone, wondering if a daddy would ever be part of their lives? But now they lived like those days had never happened . . . in all ways but one.

  Never for a single day would Ashley forget how blessed she was, how much God had gifted her with the reality of Landon Blake in her life.

  Now, as Cole took the court, he looked back at Landon and pumped his fist again. His grin told them that he remembered his daddy’s message to play like he loved the game and play for Jesus. Ashley turned to her dad and Dayne and Katy, who were sitting directly behind her. She lowered her voice so the other parents couldn’t hear her. “He’s starting.” She pointed at Cole taking his place at the middle of the floor. Then she tugged on Landon’s sleeve. “I knew he had a gift.”

  Ashley waved at Kari, Ryan, and their two kids at the far end of the bleachers. Kari wasn’t feeling well again. They wanted to be near the exit in case they had to leave. Kari noticed her and smiled, and Ashley mouthed, “Cole’s starting!”

  She looked out at the court and then at Landon. “Can’t you just see Cole suiting up for the Hoosiers? I mean, look at him, Landon. Look at the way he’s holding the ball. He’s a natural out there. It’s a gift, seriously.”

  “Ashley, the game just started.” Landon gave her a comical look that said she was being ridiculous. “Any kid who can walk straight has a gift for basketball. This is Indiana, home of the Hoosiers.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “We might want to give it a game or two before we alert the media.”

  Ashley laughed, but even as she did, Cole stole the ball, dribbled down the court, and made a layup. “See!” She jumped up and down on the bench and raised her hands in the air. She cheered and clapped. “Way to go, Coley! That’s my boy!”

  Ashley looked around. Everyone else was sitting on the bleachers. She gulped and quickly took her spot beside Landon.

  “Remember, Coach Troy told us to cheer for the team.” He gave her a friendly reminder–type smile and nodded at the bench. “All those little boys haven’t even gotten on the floor yet.”

  “True.” She slumped down a little and analyzed herself. She hadn’t expected to feel this way about watching Cole play.

  In the row beneath her were Jenny and Jim Flanigan with Cody Coleman and the rest of their kids.

  The players moved up and down the court attempting something vaguely like an offense but rarely scoring. Ricky Flanigan was in the starting group with Cole, and this time as the other team took the ball down the court, Ricky sliced in, stole the ball, and passed it to Cole.

  “Go, Coley!” Ashley was on her feet again.

  Landon took hold of her sleeve and gave it a gentle tug.

  She sat back down, and as she did, Cole took a wrong step and fell to the floor. The ball bounced off the heel of his new shoes and rolled out of bounds.

  “Sub out, Coach!” A loud voice from somewhere behind them boomed across the gym. “Give the boys on the bench a chance!”

  Ashley stifled a gasp. Was the guy serious? She turned to Landon, astonished. “Did you hear him?”

  “Yes.” Landon’s expression told her she might as well get used to it. “Welcome to third-grade sports.”

  Anger welled inside Ashley. “How dare he say that?” she hissed in a frustrated whisper. “It was a direct attack on Cole.”

  Landon whispered back at her, “Maybe his boy’s bound for the pros too.”

  She slumped a little more and turned to face the court. Cole was fine, back up and trying to steal the ball from the Peewee Bulls. The boys passed the ball, celebrating a little with each actual catch. But when it came time for the closest Bulls player to throw the ball toward the basket, it fell about four feet shy.

  A chorus of parents on the other side of the bleachers clapped. “Good try. . . . Way to work it around!”

  Ashley watched them, learning. Yes, that was it. The encouragement should come in a general way. Nothing too personal. That way no one would feel left out.

  Ricky had the ball, and Ashley spotted Jim Flanigan sliding to the edge of the bench, poised to stand. “Go Cougars! Take it all the way!” he shouted.

  Landon leaned in. “Notice he didn’t mention Ricky’s name.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a quick, semisarcastic smile and kept her eyes on the Cougars.

  Ricky passed to a little boy near the baseline, and for a moment it looked like he might shoot. A round of parents’ voices encouraged him to do so, but the child passed it over the top of the key, and one of the Bulls snatched it from the air.

  “Go Bulls,” their parents yelled.

  “The kids are tired, Coach. Make a switch already!” It was the grouchy guy from the top of the stands.

  Ashley didn’t want to turn around and look at him. That would be too obvious.

  About that time, as if he’d heard the dad complaining, Coach Troy called a huddle with the five boys still on the bench. Ashley was sitting close enough that she could hear. “Ready, guys?”

  “Yes, Coach!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Yeah!”

  The boys’ voices blended together, and Coach Troy sent them to the scorer’s table to check in. At the next loose ball, the ref blew his whistle, and the five Cougar players on the court took the bench, while the waiting group ran onto the floor. The ref helped the boys match up with the player they were defending, and the game was in action again.

  The Bulls had the ball on the first possession after the substitution, and the five of them had barely set up in front of their net when the loud voice behind them kicked in again. “Be aggressive, Billy! Get in position.” The guy groaned. “Not like that. Front your man, Son. Do I have to come down there and show you?”

  Ashley couldn’t resist. She peeked over her shoulder, and suddenly she figured it out. This was the man who had made a spectacle at one of the practices. The parents who stayed to watch had been standing along one side of the gym. Coach Troy was going over the offense—how one player would pass to another, while at the same time a player near
the baseline would cut across, thus shifting the players and possibly creating an open shot.

  But the man responsible for today’s outbursts didn’t like that offensive plan. He stormed halfway across the gym floor and waved his hand in disgust at Coach Troy. “This is Indiana, friend. You can’t teach a set offense in Indiana. They’ll run you out of town.”

  Coach Troy had picked up the basketball, held it beneath his arms, and stared at the man. Ashley remembered thinking he was probably too shocked to speak.

  “You heard me.” The man was tall and hefty. He looked mean, his face ruddy and angry. “It’s a running game here.” He brushed his hand toward the coach and slowly returned to his place. “If you can’t teach the transition game, you shouldn’t be here.”

  Ashley couldn’t believe the man that day, and by the looks on the faces of the other parents, neither could they. But it wasn’t until after that practice that Ashley realized who was paying the price for the man’s intensity. As Ashley and Cole were on their way out, they passed the man. He had his son cornered in the first row of the bleachers.

  “I don’t care what you say, Billy. You weren’t hustling.” He thumped himself on the chest. “I played four years of D-I college ball, but you won’t see a day at that level if you don’t work harder.” He must’ve been trying to stay unnoticed, because he kept glancing over his shoulder. The man apparently had no idea how loud he was; every parent who walked past after practice that day shook his head.

  Ashley had stopped and stared at the man’s back. His tone was atrocious, and she considered going back and telling the coach. But it wasn’t her business. Besides, the man wasn’t hitting his son. Just hurting him with words. That much was clear as Billy nodded silently at the appropriate times, two trails of tears streaming down his little face.

  Ashley wanted to grab the man and shake him. Before she left the building, she hesitated a few feet from the boy. “Good-bye, Billy.”

  “Yeah, bye, Billy!” Cole grinned. He didn’t seem to understand what was going on, only that Billy didn’t look happy. “Good practice.”