“What made you want to work in the theater, Mr. Dodd?” she asked.
“Isn’t it the same for everyone?”
“Oh, no.” Her voice was muffled for a second. “I don’t think so. We all have our own stories, don’t we?”
“Why do you want to write plays, Miss Sparrow?” he countered.
“I’ve been writing them for as long as I can remember. Oh, not writing, writing them, but making them up and play-acting.”
“Why not become an actress?” He was finally accepting that she’d told him the truth on that score. Which made her charisma all the more intriguing.
“Because I prefer making up the stories. I want to be the one in charge.”
Carter couldn’t help laughing at this. “That’s why I direct.”
Sounds of swishing material carried over the screen, but before he allowed his imagination to conjure images of this mysterious woman totally undressed, he instead grappled with anticipation of seeing her in the elegant lavender dress she’d selected.
Until…
“Um… Mr. Dodd?” Her voice sounded perplexed.
“Yes?”
“I’m stuck.”
Elle bit her lip and tried not to panic.
“How are you stuck?” Mr. Dodd’s voice sounded tentative from the opposite side of the screen.
She squirmed, and then made another unsuccessful effort to free herself. She was not accustomed to dressing herself, dash it all! What brilliant seamstress thought it made sense to put the hooks on the back of a gown when a lady could only see the front?
“I’m stuck.” She exhaled. “In my gown and I’m afraid I’m making a dreadful mess.” She tilted her head and let out a small cry when her hair caught on one of those dratted buttons. By this time, the paint was not only on her gown, but it covered half her face. Not to mention her hands, her chest, and arms.
And a good deal of her hair.
“What do you want me to do?” He asked.
Oh, but she was trapped! Her breaths became shallow as she struggled, the material tightening around her the more she moved. “Help me!”
“You’re sure?” Mr. Dodd sounded a little strangled. How had she gotten all tangled up like this?
“Yes! Help me!” She swallowed a choking feeling. “Please! I can’t breathe!”
That did it.
In a flash, capable hands moved over her back. Thank heavens she’d worn her chemise and stays. If not… he’d have had quite the sight, indeed!
“Hold still.” His voice sounded near.
“My hair is caught,” she said.
“It’s got more than your hair.” Was he laughing?
“It’s not funny.”
“Not at all.” But his voice said he felt differently. He’d freed her hair and lowered the gown so she could peek her head out. “From my experience,” he explained, “It’s best to loosen it first so you can step out of it.”
“But I can’t loosen it.” Oh, this was too embarrassing!
