Love's Last Chance Read Free

line waiting for a taxi, but didn’t have long to
wait. Drake loaded her luggage in the trunk and they sped off
toward Manhattan.
    “What’s your schedule?” Drake asked, as he
sat back against the seat.
    “Let’s see…rehearse for two weeks, shoot for
one, squeeze the Fire Island reunion weekend in there—I think
between week one and two or two and three? Then back to L.A.”
    “Doesn’t give you much time for…going
out.”
    “Just a couple of nights after rehearsals.
When we shoot, we do it ’til there’s no light left. This time of
year, that’s about nine.”
    “Won’t you be too tired?”
    “Not for these dates.”
    “Who are you going out with?”
    “First, Archer Canfield.”
    “Guy you modeled for?”
    She nodded. “We had sort of a thing going.
Couldn’t do anything about it because it was business.”
    “Then?”
    “Then calling Rick Tarlock.”
    “I thought you dumped him.”
    She nodded. “Time for second chances.”
    Drake shook his head. “And last?”
    “You know the last one…Johnny.”
    “He’s ‘John’ now.”
    She cocked an eyebrow. “Not to me. Still
Johnny. He’s all grown up…a successful businessman? Is he still
sleeping with every woman who walks?”
    Drake laughed. “Not exactly. What if some of
these men don’t want to see you?”
    “Unless they’re in relationships, I’m sure
they’ll have a friendly dinner with me.”
    “Love your confidence.”
    “It’s just dinner.”
    “If I remember, you’ll have a hard time
keeping Rick and John out of the bedroom.”
    Dorrie sensed heat in her cheeks. “Don’t
exaggerate.”
    “From what you told me…”
    “Drake!” She raised a fist to his face. He
put his hands up in a defensive position and chuckled. Dorrie
relaxed back against the seat.
    “Last time I confide in you,” she mumbled,
half angry, half amused.
    “Come on. Can you blame me? The set-up was
too good.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled back at
him.
    Dorrie turned her gaze to the view of New
York coming closer. “Ah, the City. Good to be back.”
    “Good to have you back,” Drake said, trying
to keep his tone light.
    Riding in the taxi through Central Park to
get to the West Side, Dorrie smiled at the lush, deep green of the
trees and the occasional glimpses of light pink roses and bright
red geraniums. The cab pulled up in front of a high rise building
on West 88 th Street. She paid the driver while Drake
lugged her suitcases inside.
    Dorrie had stayed with Drake and his wife,
Chrissy, on her last trip to New York, too. She had lived there for
several months and paid them a little rent for a comfortable room
in their two-bedroom apartment. This time, Drake refused to accept
money. Chrissy greeted Dorrie with a big hug and a plate of
homemade brownies.
    At midnight, Dorrie couldn’t sleep. She
slipped on a robe and padded out to the living room. The window was
open. She sat cross-legged on the floor and looked up at the moon.
A cool, July evening breeze blew in, caressing her face. She smiled
as her mind wandered to the three men she intended to look up. One more date, or maybe two, and I’ll know if leaving them was
the right thing. I’ll know, won’t I?
    A noise startled her. She jumped and turned
eyes filled with fear to the archway leading to the hall. A
familiar curse and a limping Drake wearing only pajama bottoms made
her chuckle.
    “What are you doing up?” she asked him,
oblivious to his firm chest and narrow waist.
    “I could ask you the same question. Hey, I’m
injured here.”
    “You’ll live.”
    “Is that your prognosis, doc?”
    Dorrie laughed then covered her mouth to
stifle the noise.
    Drake sat down next to her.
    “Can’t sleep?”
    She shook her head. “I’m wondering about the
three guys.”
    “John’s a changed man.”
    “Really?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
    “He’s not a man-whore anymore.”
    “We’ll see. He’ll get his chance, like the
others,” she sniffed. Shadows prevented