Platinum Doll. Anne Girard

could hear the muffled sounds of Marino and her mother talking in the other room.

      Chuck kissed her again, one breast then the other. They were straining to hold back from what they both wanted.

      “If we’re quiet...” he raggedly whispered.

      “God, they’ll know, for sure!”

      Harlean was meeting his kisses with anticipation. He pressed up her silk nightgown straining over her. “So what if they know? I need you, Harlean, you’re my wife!”

      “Chuck! I can’t!”

      Their heavy breathing fought the silence, though Marino’s muffled words still came through the thin walls. “I can’t go on like this!” Chuck growled.

      “They’ve only been here a few days.”

      He moved away from her and fell onto his back, his chest heaving. “Well, it feels like a goddamn eternity to me.”

      Harlean nestled against him, the sound of his heart slamming in her ear. He was being petulant and spoiled. She waited for him to calm beneath her tender touch. “I love you, Chuck, with all my heart. You know I do.”

      “Get them out of here, Harlean. I want my wife back.”

      It was the last thing he said before he rolled away from her and pulled the covers up to create a barrier between them.

      * * *

      Harlean rose early the next morning so she could let the dog outside in the backyard. There was a light mist covering the lawn and the sunrise sky was all rose and vermilion. She stood watching it for a while before she went back in to make a pot of coffee, then sank onto one of the new kitchen chairs. She’d been awake most of the night, wanting Chuck as much as he had wanted her and struggling with guilt over refusing him. As glad as she had been about her mother’s arrival, it had changed things. The Bellos just needed their own house nearby and then everything would be fine.

      Everything would get back to normal.

      The ringing of the phone startled her. She lunged toward the dining room nook to answer it. She needed this bit of peace, time to herself. She certainly didn’t want Chuck to wake in a fouler mood than the one in which he had gone to bed.

      “Hello?”

      “Jean Harlow, please.”

      “I’m sorry, my mother is still asleep and—”

      Only then, as the words crossed her lips, did she remember the name she had given to Central Casting. She was Jean Harlow.

      She cleared her throat. “Jean Harlow speaking.”

      “Bring your best evening gown to the Paramount Pictures lot. Get here by nine and be prepared to spend the day.”

      The voice was male, young and in a hurry. She heard the click on the other end before she had a chance to ask if she could bring her mother.

      Stunned, Harlean set the phone back in the cradle, then sank against the wall. The spark of excitement she had felt faded quickly when she thought of her mother, asleep and unaware, in the next room. In spite of the enthusiasm she had initially shown, Harlean could not help wondering how the news would truly strike her. After all, Jean Harlow Bello was a beautiful woman who had struggled for years, then finally had given up on her dream only to have her young, pretty daughter called for work in a matter of days—and while using her mother’s name.

      Harlean fought against the disloyalty and worry she felt. Not only was her mother likely to feel envious, Chuck would doubtlessly feel threatened that a group of men might want to use her in a motion picture.

      Hollywood is no place for a lady.

      The echo of her grandfather’s voice the last time they’d spoken moved through her mind now and added to what she knew would be a resounding chorus of discontent if she went through with this. A silly dare had very suddenly become something more. Harlean couldn’t help but feel as if she were on the cusp of some monumental thing, but she still wasn’t certain that finding out just what it might be was worth the risks with those she loved.