Someday Soon Read online

  A DREAM COME TRUE

  “I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed you,” Ty admitted.

  His voice struck a chord inside Cammie, and she gazed at him with unknowing longing written all over her face. Any skills she possessed as an actress fled with the need to be with the man she loved—and had always loved, at some level. Ty’s swift intake of breath said he didn’t mistake the signs, but he still hesitated.

  “Cammie…?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she heard herself ask from far, far away.

  He smothered a sound of disbelief. “Yes,” he said.

  Putting action to words, he leaned forward. She could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, and her hands eased their way up his chest.

  She waited, suspended in helpless anticipation. She’d yearned for this since the night they’d made love so long ago, and even before that, when she’d been an adolescent awash in unrealized dreams, hungry for love and affection and the sensation of his touch…

  Also by Janelle Taylor:

  ANYTHING FOR LOVE

  BY CANDLELIGHT

  CHASE THE WIND

  DEFIANT HEARTS

  DESTINY MINE

  DESTINY’S TEMPTRESS

  FIRST LOVE, WILD LOVE

  FOLLOW THE WIND

  FORTUNE’S FLAMES

  GOLDEN TORMENT

  KISS OF THE NIGHT WIND

  LAKOTA WINDS

  THE LAST VIKING QUEEN

  LOVE ME WITH FURY

  MIDNIGHT SECRETS

  PASSIONS WILD AND FREE

  PROMISE ME FOREVER

  SWEET, SAVAGE HEART

  TAKING CHANCES

  WHISPERED KISSES

  WILD IS MY LOVE

  WILD WINDS

  The Moondust and Madness Series:

  MOONDUST AND MADNESS

  STARDUST AND SHADOWS

  STARLIGHT AND SPLENDOR

  MOONBEAMS AND MAGIC

  The Savage Ecstasy Series:

  SAVAGE ECSTASY

  DEFIANT ECSTASY

  FORBIDDEN ECSTASY

  BRAZEN ECSTASY

  TENDER ECSTASY

  STOLEN ECSTASY

  BITTERSWEET ECSTASY

  FOREVER ECSTASY

  SAVAGE CONQUEST

  Someday

  Soon

  Janelle Taylor

  CHAPTER ONE

  If fate were a woman, I wouldn’t be in this situation, Cammie Merrill thought. I’d be my own boss and my ex-husband would have no power over me. In fact, I’d be the boss and he’d be my slave. No, better yet, I’d be the boss and he would live on another planet…

  But the truth was, Paul Merrill stood right in front of her, arms folded over his chest, ankles negligently crossed in front of him as he leaned against the edge of his desk. It was a pose meant to relax her, but Cammie knew better than to let down her guard in front of him. She’d had four years of marriage to learn the true merit of the man, and she knew his summoning her today did not bode well.

  “Sit down, Camilla,” he urged, extending an arm toward one of the club chairs nestled against the wall.

  “Thanks, I’d rather stand.”

  His lips tightened briefly, then he shrugged. “You know the show’s going in a new direction,” he began. “We’re trimming a few of the lesser characters and focusing on the original cast. They’re the lifeblood of Cherry Blossom Lane, and let’s face it, Donna Jenkins isn’t one of them.”

  Cammie met his gaze, desperately trying to get her suddenly banging heart to slow down. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want Paul to know how much he was devastating her. “I got you this job,” she reminded him quietly. “And now you’re firing me?”

  The tips of his ears reddened. “It’s not up to me! Donna Jenkins has been around for three seasons already, and frankly, she’s about used up. Maybe if you’d created a more memorable character, things would have been different.”

  Cammie’s lips parted in anger and disbelief. Before she could respond, however, Paul hurriedly jumped in again. “I know you tried hard. It just didn’t work.”

  She regarded him coolly. Didn’t work? He knew, as well as she did, that she’d taken a walk-on part and turned it into a living, breathing woman who’d touched the hearts and minds of a sympathetic public. Donna Jenkins, her role on the nighttime drama, Cherry Blossom Lane, was a woman whose search for love had invariably led her into the arms of the wrong men, men who used her as a stepping-stone for their own ambitions. As a parallel for her own life, it couldn’t be more accurate.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Paul said, spreading his hands. “But I had nothing to do with this. Everyone loves you here, but in a few weeks, when we film the finale, Donna Jenkins is kaput.”

  “All right.”

  His brows lifted in surprise. He did not expect her capitulation. “That’s it?”

  “What do you want me to do, Paul? Beg you to keep me on?”

  “Come on, Camilla, relax. Don’t be that way.”

  “What way?” Cammie was too upset to meekly turn tail and run.

  “I know you didn’t want me here,” he sputtered. “I know you’re thinking I’m behind this. But you know, it wasn’t entirely because of your famous family that I landed this job. People know me in this town. I’ve got a reputation.”

  Cammie almost laughed aloud. She’d reluctantly helped him get hired on Cherry Blossom Lane only because he’d begged and pleaded and threatened her during the whole course of their marriage. But power was an addiction for Paul, and as soon as he was on staff, he set out to worm his way up the executive ladder. He’d succeeded, too, and had risen from minor underling to co-executive producer in less than three years.

  But regardless of his assertion that she belonged to a “famous” family, she’d won her role by sheer talent and determination. Her famous family was really her stepfamily, and for reasons she didn’t like dwelling on, she was no longer in contact with any of them. Just thinking about them sent a frisson of discomfort down her spine.

  With an effort, she pushed those thoughts aside and kept her focus on her ex-husband. “Well, I guess that’s all we have to say to each other.”

  “I may not be long with the show, either, as it happens,” Paul said a bit reflectively.

  “Hmmm.” His future didn’t really interest her.

  Or so she thought, until he added, “I’ve been talking to some of the right people, and the Connellys have asked me to come on board.”

  The Connellys? Cammie’s jaw nearly dropped, but before her shock could register, she gritted her teeth together and let her face register only mild interest. The Connellys were one of the hottest production teams going in Hollywood these days. If Paul were actually telling the truth…

  Suddenly Cammie was angry, really angry. It wasn’t fair that he’d up and decided to get rid of her. And then to brag about his own continued success! It was unconscionable.

  “You’re a real piece of work, Paul Merrill,” she told him flatly. “You make certain I’m fired, then you have the audacity to tell me that you’ve got a better job on the line. Well, if you think I’m going to congratulate you, you’re mistaken.”

  “Look, I’ve got other issues here, Camilla,” he declared. “Don’t insult me.”

  “Other issues!” she sputtered. “You took my job from me, and you know it. Worse yet, you don’t even care.”

  “It’s not like that. Just—relax.”

  “Stop telling me to relax, and stop calling me Camilla. You know I hate it.”

  His sigh was long-suffering, as if she were just too, too impossible to deal with. “You’re always jumping to conclusions.”

  “Oh, am I? You mean, you didn’t just fire me?”


  “That’s not the issue I wanted to talk to you about today.”

  She shook her head in utter disbelief. “Are you kidding? Forgive me, Paul, but it’s all that’s on my mind!”

  “Come on, give me a chance to explain,” he demanded crossly.

  “Like you’ve given me such a chance?” she responded, her voice filled with sad irony.

  That, at least, seemed to penetrate. Paul looked away for a moment, but he recovered with more speed than the situation warranted. Throwing her a quick, assessing look she couldn’t quite read, he revealed, “I’ve got something else in mind for you.”

  “Oh, thanks very much.”

  “No, this is good. Great, actually.” He pinched his lower lip together with his thumb and forefinger, a habit denoting intense concentration.

  Still reeling from his earlier news, she shook her head. She didn’t want to hear any more.

  “Believe me, your part was written out on Cherry Blossom without any influence from me. The show’s got a bold new direction. You’ve been scheduled to the at the season finale for a long time.”

  Cammie refused to acknowledge that she’d heard rumors to that effect. Rumors abounded on the set. There was a certain paranoia about being “let go” at all times in an industry where one pretty face could be substituted so easily for another.

  “Well, it’s fact,” Paul said into the silence. He gave her another look as he dropped into his desk chair, propping his ankles on the polished mahogany finish as if it were a secondhand reject. “Okay, I pushed the powers-that-be and had you bumped out a little sooner than originally scheduled. No big deal. And it leaves you free to try other things.”

  “Don’t do me any favors, Paul!”

  “The finale’s fabulous. Judith and Becca are both accused of your murder. It’s going to be fabulous. The ratings will soar!” His eyes actually misted over. Paul Merrill was ready to swoon with delight.

  “I’m happy for you,” Cammie murmured sardonically.

  “Don’t get snippy. I told you I’ve got something for you, and I do. It’s big.” He slid her a sideways smile. His expression warred between excitement and a certain hesitancy, as if he knew his pending news wasn’t as wonderful as he would like her to believe.

  Cammie braced herself. “What is it?” she asked, certain the other shoe was about to drop.

  “Just a film role, that’s all.”

  “Oh, sure.”

  “A co-starring role.”

  “Paul…” she warned. She’d heard that line a million times before. Half the time “co-star” meant minor character left on the cutting-room floor.

  He waved her skepticism aside. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime!”

  Cammie couldn’t believe his theatrics. Around the set she and Paul had made a practice of ignoring each other, elevating it to near art form, and suddenly here they were, talking as if they were almost friends. She knew better than to trust him. She’d been down that road before.

  “Paul—that you can get me fired, then try and make me believe you’ve done me a favor!” Cammie inhaled deeply. “Words truly fail me.”

  “You’re not listening. I’ve got you a film, for God’s sake. That’s what I was talking to the Connellys about! Summer Solstice Productions, Camilla! Do you hear me?”

  “Summer Solstice?” Cammie repeated blankly. Summer Solstice was the name of James and Nora Connelly’s production company, and its string of successes was already legendary.

  “Production starts next fall. This property’s red hot and ready to roll. And they want you!” he finished triumphantly, holding his arms out as if she should want to jump into them.

  Cammie didn’t know what to think. She was still furious with him, but he seemed completely serious. A Summer Solstice film? Unbelievable. James and Nora Connelly were a young husband and wife team whose string of modest successes and last winter’s huge blockbuster film had shot them from obscurity to fame and fortune. They were the newest rage. Hollywood’s current golden couple. Everyone who was anybody tried to curry their favors.

  Cammie didn’t believe Paul. She couldn’t. “They want me to screen test,” she corrected. “I’ve got an audition, not a part.”

  “No, they want you.” He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned over the desk.

  “What’s the catch?”

  “You hurt me, Cammie. You really do.”

  “You just fired me, Paul,” she pointed out sardonically. “Who’s hurt whom?”

  “Oh, Cammie…” Paul sighed hugely and shook his head, but Cammie held firm. The way he was acting told her there was more going on here than met the eye, but to rail further against his letting her go wouldn’t accomplish anything. Moreover, she sensed that it was water under the bridge. Paul and Cherry Blossom Lane were the past and had been for a while, it appeared, even though she’d been the last to know.

  “All right, I’ll bite. So, what’s this fabulous role?” she asked into the gathering silence.

  “Well…” He steepled his fingers together on the desk, staring at them as if they held all of life’s mysteries within their grasp. Cammie suspected he was searching for the right way to lure her into the trap. “You’re being considered for the female lead in a romantic drama.”

  Cammie didn’t move a muscle. She was certain she was dreaming. The female lead? Impossible! Supporting role, maybe. But even that was an outside chance at best.

  When she didn’t comment, Paul clucked his tongue. “Here, you think the worst of me, but who do you think it was that talked Nora and Jim into using you? Who do you think that was, huh? Yours truly. Good old Paul. That’s who got you the audition.”

  “Audition,” she repeated, catching him out. Her hopes sank and she dared to breathe again. She’d been right. An audition meant you were in a cattle call with about ten thousand other hopefuls.

  Paul waved that aside. “Aren’t you listening? Right now you’re their first choice.”

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “How?” she blurted out, furious with herself for the rising hope she couldn’t quite tamp down. If she didn’t watch out, it would suffocate her. “How can I be their first choice? They don’t even know me! No one knows me outside of television! How would James and Nora Connelly even consider a nobody like me? You’re lying to me.”

  “I am not! You’ve got an audition on Friday. Because of me,” he reminded her tightly. “And a lot of thanks I get.”

  “Paul!” Cammie shook her head.

  “The role’s tailor made for you. Young woman trying to make it in the world meets guy, falls in love, gets pregnant, guy leaves her, she has the baby, then they get together in the end.”

  “Now, there’s an original plot.”

  “That’s just your part. The basic story is about a guy who loses everything to greed, then fights his way back to the top, redeeming himself along the way.”

  “Are you for real, Paul?”

  “Why do you doubt me so much? Here…”

  He reached into a drawer and sailed a copy of a screenplay across his desk. It slipped over the edge and fluttered to the floor. Cammie picked it up.

  “Rock Bottom,” she murmured, checking out the title.

  “Read it tonight. It’s good.”

  That little light of hope still flickered somewhere inside her; she just couldn’t quite extinguish it. Sighing, Cammie gave in. “What are you up to, Paul? Do I have to strip naked and mud wrestle or something? No, I don’t want to know.” She held up her hand as he started to answer. “Whatever it is, it’s no good. I’m not gullible anymore, Paul.”

  “Read the damn screenplay! See for yourself.”

  “I will read it.”

  “Good.”

  “Good,” she repeated tersely, staring at him.

  Silence stretched between them. She watched Paul pinch his lower lip once again.

  “You’re working yourself up to tell me something more,” Cammie guessed.

  “Th
ere is something…” he admitted, grimacing a bit.

  Cammie, who’d perched on the edge of her chair to collect the screenplay, now flopped back into the chair. “I don’t want to hear it!”

  “Now, don’t get all huffy.”

  She simply snorted her disgust, crossed her arms over her chest and tried to forget how much of a worm Paul Merrill was. What a jerk! He loved raising her hopes just to crush them back down.

  “It’s not that bad. You don’t have to do anything on camera you might object to, within reason, of course. Nora and James just want you to help sign your co-star.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked cautiously.

  “They’re having a little get-together Friday night. At their house in Brentwood. We could go.”

  Cammie stared. Things were moving way too fast. Was there any chance Paul was on the level? Summer Solstice wanted her? As far as she knew, the Connellys only chose from Hollywood’s A-List of stars—which Cammie definitely was not on.

  Did I say A-List? I’m not even in the same alphabet!

  “Cammie?”

  With an effort she shook herself out of her reverie. “Help sign my co-star?” she asked, remembering the request tagged on to this startling bit of news. “I don’t understand. I don’t have any clout with anyone.”

  “Well, that’s not quite true.”

  “Who?” But before her lips could change from the “o” of her question, the answer sizzled across her brain: the Stovalls. Her famous stepfamily.

  “If they want Samuel Stovall, they can certainly pick up the phone themselves,” Cammie stated tightly, referring to her ex-stepfather. Samuel was a Hollywood icon, and one of the most selfish men Cammie ever had the misfortune to meet.

  “It’s not Samuel they want,” Paul said slowly, his eyes closely watching her face.

  Cammie sat perfectly still; her brain strangely frozen. Some part of her had known this was where Paul had been headed from the moment he’d brought up her connection to the Stovalls. There was another actor in the Stovall family, and it was thinking of him that made Cammie squirm and feel heat invade her cheeks.

  “No,” she said in a low voice.