Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [29]
With this firm resolution in mind, she quickly unpacked her bags, and put away her clothes. They filled only one bureau drawer and not even a quarter of the closet space. It was obvious that the residents of these luxurious cottages were expected to possess a far more extensive wardrobe than she did, she thought ruefully. She shrugged philosophically. She had not come here to model clothes but to act, and after Jake Dominic's encouragement this evening, she had every confidence that she could perform that function with a large degree of success.
After brushing her teeth, setting her alarm, and donning her very utilitarian cotton pajamas, she slipped between the cream satin sheets, feeling very much the plain brown wren in this lush Sybarite nest. Weary as she was, it was still a long time before her adrenaline-charged mind gave in to the demands of her exhausted body. Her thoughts were a wildly confused kaleidoscope that whirled in erratic circles over the feverish events of the last two days. It seemed impossible that a person's life could change with such speed. Not only her physical surroundings, but the inhabitants of her new world were strange and exotic, and she felt suddenly very unsure and alone.
But she wasn't alone, she assured herself steadily. She still had Randy, even though he wasn't in her immediate vicinity. She had not given up her determination to change that status as soon as possible. She would find a way to circumvent Donovan's ridiculous orders at the first opportunity. In the meantime, she would focus her thoughts on Randy, the only dear, familiar object in this frightening world. Gradually, as she did this, she was filled with the accustomed warm serenity, and she became drowsy and relaxed.
Yet it wasn't Randy's golden hair and puckish smile that was her last vision before she dropped off to sleep, but the blunt, rugged features and dark red hair of Michael Donovan.
Even though the following day was jam-packed with activity, Brenna was to look on it later as being positively leisurely. The morning was spent memorizing her lines, with special emphasis on the scenes Dominic had indicated he wanted her to concentrate on for the following day. She blessed the fact that she was the quick study that Wilkes had bragged about. By noon she had the scenes learned to her satisfaction, though she knew she would have to refresh her memory each day before going to the set. One of the advantages of work in films was obviously going to be the convenience of focusing one's efforts on one or two scenes a day and not to have to worry about the production as a whole. Whether this would prove an asset in the long run was debatable, she thought skeptically. She knew she was one of those performers who could lose herself in the role when involved in the continuity of an actual play. Whether this magic could occur when she was faced with doing one isolated scene after another in disjointed sequence, she had no way of knowing.
At lunchtime she hurried to Doris Charles' apartment to check on Randy. Donovan had not exaggerated, she discovered when she let herself in at Doris Charles' shouted invitation. Randy had every possible necessity and amusement to keep the most pampered child in ecstasy. He greeted her with his usual cheerful ebullience and then ignored her and went back to painstakingly linking a caboose to the cars of a brightly painted wooden train.
Doris, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him. She looked up with a wide grin as Brenna entered.
“Hi,” she said cheerfully. “This young man of yours is on his way to becoming a railroad tycoon. Before we're done, we may stretch from coast to coast. Care to join us?”
Brenna shook her head, her gaze lingering on the chubby romper-clad figure. “I only have a minute,” she said wistfully. “I just stopped to make sure that he was all right. Did he sleep well?”
“Like a top,” the nurse said serenely. “And he ate a breakfast this morning that would do justice to a lumberjack.