Love's Last Chance by Jean C. Joachim

her lips.
    “I mean, you, to your bed…alone. Oh dear.”
His fair skin turned red almost immediately.
    Dorrie laughed. “I’m yanking your chain,
Arch. I know what you meant.”
    “Heavens! Must you do that? Give me a heart
attack.” He rested his palm on his chest.
    “I’d prefer to grab something quick to eat.
I have a lot on my mind.” Tomorrow I meet Johnny Flanagan again.
Trapped on Fire Island for the weekend with him. And he might not
even talk to me. She sighed. “Sorry I’m so preoccupied.”
    “Of course, my dear. I know the perfect
place. Bernie’s Burgers .”
    “Is there such a place?”
    “Would I lie? About three more blocks
south.”
    “Let’s go.” She squeezed his hand and moved
closer to him as they strolled west and south, toward Ninth Avenue.
Bernie’s was buzzing, but there was a booth opening up in the back.
Archer escorted Dorrie to the table and slid in opposite her.
    Her stomach was jumping around, so she
ordered eggs. Archer had a steak sandwich.
    “How much longer are you staying?” he asked,
sipping a cup of tea.
    “Depends on how the shoot goes, but about
two more weeks, if everything goes well.”
    “Damn. Wish it were longer.”
    She stared at her fork for a moment then
raised her eyes to meet his. “So do I.”
    “Can’t you take a few days?” He sliced off a
piece of meat.
    “The producer would have my head. What if a
job in New York came along? Say as a yoga or dance instructor?
Think I should take it?”
    “How marvelous! Of course. You would,
wouldn’t you?”
    “Maybe.” She picked up a piece of bacon.
    “What’s standing in your way?”
    “If this film is successful, there’ll be a
pilot and then a series. I’d be doing all the choreography. It’s a
huge opportunity.” Dorrie stared into his eyes, hoping to see a
spark there.
    “I see your point.” Archer kept his face a
mask, his British reserve always in place.
    “I’d stay in New York if I had…something
else.” Her voice trailed off. She realized she was practically
begging him to marry her, so she shut up. No way to say this
without looking needy at the least. And a husband-hunter at the
worst.
    “Something else?”
    “A relationship.” There. I’ve said
it. She closed her eyes for a moment.
    “I see. If that’s all there is to it, maybe
you’d consider coming to live with me?”
    Dorrie’s pulse jumped and her heart beat
faster. Live with you? We’ve never even slept together. Not
permanent enough. Am I expecting a proposal? A bit soon. Her
mouth went as dry, as if she had been sipping sawdust. Putting her
water glass down, she swallowed.
    “Live with you?”
    “Why not? We have chemistry. And we like
each other. Known each other a while. I assure you, I’m not a
serial killer.”
    “It’s a bit premature, don’t you think?”
    “Then how about if I set you up in an
apartment?” He sat back, staring coolly at her.
    “What?”
    “Set up an apartment where I can come
and…visit you…from time to time.” His cheeks colored slightly.
    “Like a mistress?”
    “That’s such an ugly word. Like a friend,
maybe.”
    “Friend with benefits?”
    “That’s one of those new terms. I guess,
yes, a friend with benefits.”
    A kept woman? I couldn’t do that. Why, if
he’s single? Oh my God! Is he married? She snuck a furtive
glance at his left hand, but there was no ring there. Doesn’t
necessarily mean single. Not with a man.
    “That’s not…I couldn’t…that’s not me,
Archer.”
    “I’ve embarrassed you,” he said, taking her
hand. “I’m so sorry. I want you to stay in New York. With me.”
    She withdrew and looked at her watch. “It’s
late. I’ve got to go. Early day tomorrow.” She shoveled the last
forkful of eggs in her mouth and gathered her things.
    “Oh, dear. Now I’ve blown it, I’m afraid. I
didn’t mean to insult you, Dorrie, dear. You’re so special to me.
Always have been. Please, give me another chance.”
    She detected sincerity in