It was magic. Perched on the edge of a beautiful summer night, Los Angeles glittered like a gaudy treasure. Spotlights snaked across the sky, and traffic edged closer to the theater, where a crowd of over a thousand waited. In a city that had increasingly moved toward a casual attitude in dealing with world premiers, this one was a throwback, tuxes and sequins and limos. Cameron Ross was introducing his new movie and his new wife on the same evening.
“You’re sure about this,” Dulcy said from where she watched the approaching crowd through the smoked glass of the limo.
Noah nuzzled her neck just beneath the fall of hair she and Sally had precariously pinned into place. “Absolutely. The quicker you get out there and let everybody see you, the quicker they’ll lose interest.”
Dulcy wasn’t sure what was worse. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach or the shivers of need Noah was unleashing with his greedy mouth.
She knew which she’d preferred.
“I don’t have to do this exœpt at premiers and big things,” she reminded him. “Right?”
He had found her earlobe. “Right.”
“The rest of the time I can stay happily on the ranch with Hannah and everybody.”
“Right.”
The limo stopped and the driver stepped out of his door. Dulcy could see the crowd turn away from the sashaying Mitzy Parker to see who was going to step out of the limo.
“Noah, I can’t do this,” she protested.
Noah finally lifted himself away from sampling her neck to smile for her. Not a Cameron Ross smile, all gloss and no substance. A Noah smile, the kind he saved for her and Hannah and Sally. The kind that lit his eyes like summer lakes and stole her heart all over again.
“I can’t believe this,” he protested. “You, Dulcy McCann, telling me you can’t do something? I thought that wasn’t in your lexicon.”
“Dulcy McCann Campbell, if you please,” she objected. “And if you think that in my lifetime I ever envisioned this one, you’re nuts. I’m a ranch hand, Noah. Not a model.”
Noah took a second to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear. “You’re my wife. You’re funny and brilliant and sensible, and I love you enough to stay in this limo and drive it straight back to Montana if you want.” He considered her hard. “Do you want to?”
She considered him in his Armani tux and his collarless shirt, his suave, silky good looks and startling, mesmerizing blue eyes. The other Noah, she called him. The dark side, Noah called himself. She should have been bowled over by the sight of him, the smell of him, the feel of his smooth cheek against her hand.
She liked the real Noah better.
But this one would do in a pinch.
Then she looked down at the simple black silk sheath she wore, adorned with nothing but her wedding band and diamond stud earrings Noah had given her for their third anniversary. The important anniversary. They’d been married for two months. They had known each other nine, which, with Noah’s traveling and filming schedule had translated into about three they’d shared in the same spot. It hadn’t mattered. They had done all right apart and celebrated like randy teens when they’d gotten back together. Not a traditional relationship, certainly, but one that was increasingly comfortable. One Hannah had finally endorsed by writing the Campbell Wedding trumpet concerto. One the valley had signaled its approval of by protecting Dulcy while Noah was away and including them both when he was home.
“I don’t belong here,” Dulcy insisted again.
“Neither do I,” Noah assured her. “But if we don’t let them know, they’ll never figure it out.”
Alongside Noah, the door opened silently. Dulcy could hear the rising roar from the audience, the scattered intros from the interviewers.
“…new wife, Dulcy, whom he met while on vacation last year. We’re going to get a word with them now…”
Dulcy stoked herself one more time on her husband’s smile. “All right,” she agreed. “We’ll go in. But just so you’re facing this as off balance as I am,” she said. “I want you to know something.”
Noah was already stepping out of the car and couldn’t turn back. The crowd outside howled, screamed, jostled. The TV interviewers pressed closer to catch the moment when they would all be treated to the first sight of the new Mrs. Cameron Ross.
Noah uncurled from the limo and straightened. Gave his tux a small settling yank and turned back to hand Dulcy out of the limo.
“What do you want me to know?” he asked, so that the sound men couldn’t hear him.
Heck, Dulcy almost couldn’t hear him. Flashes were strobing as she put a foot on the pavement. Sound ricocheted along the street. Somewhere Sally and Hannah and Bart were already inside the theater, where they could watch without being bothered. Dulcy could hardly breathe, but she did it. Took Noah’s hand and stepped out of the car with all the grace Sally had taught her. She smiled for Noah. For the cameras that blinded her. She turned to her husband and let him have it.
“Congratulations,” she said. “You’re going to be a daddy.”
The next day Sally made it a point to tape the “Entertainment Tonight” episode that recorded the moment when Cameron Ross, the new Cary Grant, the embodiment of grace and sophistication, tripped in front of the world and fell right on his face.
* * * * *