Chapter Six
Roarke bit back a groan when Sam and Lisa made their big announcement. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for his oldest brother and sister-in-law, but he knew what he and Lenny were both in for as his mother’s teary eyes fastened on the two of them. They sat at the opposite end of the white oak table, and both found their attention suddenly focused on their plates.
“When are you two going to give me grandchildren?”
Lenny’s face reddened with embarrassment. “I’m not even married.”
“It’s no wonder since you never date.”
Roarke shared an amused look with Sam. In fact, Lenny dated frequently, but Mom refused to acknowledge his male friends. She had dismissed his being gay as “just a phase.”
To Roarke’s discomfort, her brown eyes, the same shade as his, turned to him. He held up a hand in an attempt to ward off the interrogation. “Don’t start, Mom.”
She shook her head. “You need a woman, son. I want grandkids.”
He pointed to Lisa. “All you have to do is wait a few months.”
Deirdre didn’t pay any attention. “You’re thirty-two-years-old. It’s time you married and settled down.”
“It’s the new millennium. People don’t marry so young these days.” How did she always manage to reduce him to feeling like the same guilty five-year-old who ate the whole blueberry pie she had made for Dad’s birthday?
She shook her head as she pointed to Sam and Lisa herself. “Posh. You marry when you find the right one. It’s as simple as that.”
He sighed. “I haven’t met the right one.” Unbidden, an image of Maya popped into his head, just as quickly followed by the ring on her finger.
“All I’m saying is you have to start looking.”
“Okay, Mom.” Roarke concentrated even harder on the plate and pretended to be completely engrossed in his pot roast and carrots. Deirdre took the hint and dropped the subject.
***
After dinner, Roarke left the Mediterranean-style house, taking a seat on the railing of the porch. He took the script from his inside jacket pocket. It was dog-eared from his many readings. As always, the scenes following the initial encounter between the playboy and the girl did nothing to inspire him. As with most scripts, the passage of time was swift. By the next sex scene, the girl was a willing convert. Roarke felt his mouth twisting, knowing Maya wouldn’t be so easily won over.
Fantasies about all the things he wanted to do with her came easily, but they all seemed too forward this soon into the game. Roarke didn’t want to frighten her with his desire, and he didn’t want her to hate him more than she already did. He had to come up with something for tomorrow’s meeting, but so far nothing he had thought up was the right thing. The sound of the screen door opening had Roarke looking up, hoping it wasn’t Mom coming to continue their discussion. To his relief, it was Sam. “Hey.”
“What are you doing out here all alone?”
Roarke shrugged as he bent the script in half vertically so he could stuff it back in his jacket. “I just wanted to get away.”
The grin teasing Sam’s mouth grew, giving him a boyish look. “From Mom?”
“Maybe.” Roarke’s smile gave his real answer. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“You ready for fatherhood?”
Sam shrugged, and a hint of doubt showed on his face. “It’s scary.” He leaned against the railing on the other side of the support post. “Ever give it any thought?”
“Nah. I’m too young.”
“Four years younger than me, bud. That’s not too young.” Sam shook his head, which caused his brown curls to flop. “Mom means well, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” Roarke started to put the script away, but Sam took it from him. “Hey.”
“Another movie that’s going to make you millions?” Sam flipped it open before Roarke could grab it back. His eyes widened. “What are these notes?”
Ruddy color swept across Roarke’s cheekbones. “Nothing. Just director’s notes.”
“‘Maya would hate this’.” He flipped the script open to the middle. “‘Possibility once I know Maya better’.”
Sam looked up. “What is this? There’s no Maya listed on the front page.”
He snatched the script from his brother’s fingers and shoved it back in his jacket. “Nothing.”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon. Spill.”
“Honestly, it’s nothing.”
“Who’s Maya?” His tone was casual, but his questioning eyes were sharp.
“No one. There is no Maya.” Roarke averted his eyes.
“You never could lie very well.” Sam chuckled. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
“She’s just a girl.” A girl I’m completely crazy about. “Nothing important.” Why can’t I stop thinking about her?
Lifting a shoulder, Sam said, “If you say so.”
“She’s driving me nuts.”
Sam quirked a brow. “What?”
“I can’t stop thinking about her—fantasizing about her. She’s in my dreams, dammit.” To Roarke’s surprise, Sam laughed. “You think that’s funny?”
“I never thought I’d see you fall in love.”
“I’m not in love.” He couldn’t be. She belonged to someone else. He had only a tenuous hold on her, and there was no way she could ever love him.
With a snort, Sam clapped him on the back. “I hope Maya realizes how lucky she is.”
“Yeah, she’s in seventh heaven,” Roarke muttered under his breath.
Sam frowned. “Problems?”
“She hates me.”
His eyes widened. “What did you do to make her hate you?”
Roarke hesitated. His actions weighed heavily on him, but Sam was probably not the best choice of confidant. He had very rigid moral views and would never understand. On the other hand, he gave sage advice. “We’re playing a game together.” He handed him the script once more. “This game.”
Sam’s eyes grew round as he read the brief synopsis of the script. “I take it she doesn’t want to participate?”
“She’s engaged to someone else.”
He was succinct. “It’ll never work.”
“Maybe—”
“If you really care for the girl, don’t make her do this.”
Roarke’s shoulders dropped as his brother confirmed what his own conscience had told him for days. “I know you’re right.”
“Good.” Sam shoved the script into his hands. “If you’re lucky, maybe you haven’t ruined her life yet.”
“Yeah.” Yet. Despite his brother’s words, and the prickle of his own conscience, Roarke knew he couldn’t let her go. The game hadn’t played out to its conclusion. And for him, the game was all too real.