There was a big party being held there, and the photographers went wild when they saw them. But this time, Faye didn't seem to resist it. In four brief days, she knew that there was no running away from Ward Thayer. She didn't know where their romance would lead, but she wasn't going to fight it anymore. She had worn her floor-length white fox coat to the party, over a black and white satin gown. She looked absolutely exquisite as they walked in, with her hand tucked into Ward's arm. She looked up at him warmly for an instant, and he smiled at her, just as the photographers approached them, and they had a field day with Ward and Faye for the rest of the night. But as promised, he got her home early. The late nights were beginning to wear on her in the morning. But Vance Saint George arrived on the set so late every day that she usually had time to take a nap.

“Did you have fun?” He looked down at her, as she rested her head on his shoulder as they drove home. “I thought it wasn't a bad party.” It had been to promote a new movie, and all the big names had been there.

“I thought it was fun too.” She was beginning to enjoy their nightly outings even more than she had at first. “If I just didn't have this damn movie to do, I could really have some fun.”

He laughed at her and tugged at a lock of the golden hair. “See, that's why I told you not to renew your contract the other night. This is fun, isn't it?”

“It's habit-forming. But I'm a working girl, Ward.” She tried to look at him disapprovingly, but they both laughed.

“That's your choice, but you can choose differently any time you decide to.” He looked meaningfully at her and she didn't answer, and when they reached her house, he kissed her passionately on the tips again, and this time he had to fight himself not to carry her upstairs. “I'm going.” He said it in a voice of anguished desperation, and she kissed him once more in the doorway. The delicious torture went on for weeks, until finally late one Sunday afternoon in October, a month after their courtship had begun, they were walking in her garden, talking about the war, and other subjects. She had the afternoon off from shooting, and Arthur and Elizabeth were off for the weekend. There was a feeling of peace between them as they wandered. She had been telling him about her childhood, her parents, her desperation to leave Pennsylvania, the initial excitement of modeling in New York, and then finally the boredom, and then she confessed that at times it was still that way for her now.

“It's as though there's something more I could be doing … with my mind … not just my face or my lines. I don't want to just memorize other people's lines for the rest of my life.”

It was an interesting confession and it intrigued him. “What would you rather do, Faye? Write?” As usual, he was aching for her body, but there was nothing he could do about it. At least they were alone for a change. She wasn't rushing to or from work, Arthur wasn't hovering in the doorway with tray in hand, and they weren't going to a party. They were growing hungry for time alone and she had offered to cook him dinner that night. They had spent a lovely afternoon, lazing around the pool, and then wandering in the garden. “Would you like to write a screenplay?” He turned to her and smiled at her expression. She looked frightened at the thought as she shook her head.

“I don't think I could do that.”

“What then?”

“Directing … one day …” She barely breathed the words. It was quite an ambition for a woman, and he didn't know of any who had directed movies before.

“Do you suppose anyone would let you?”

She smiled and shook her head. “I doubt it. Nobody believes a woman could do that. But I know I could. Sometimes when I watch Saint George on the set these days, I just want to scream, I know what I want to have him do … how I would direct him … the instructions I would give him. He's such a simple-minded fool, you have to bring it down to the kind of emotions he can relate to, and believe me,” she looked painfully at Ward and rolled her eyes, “they're damn few.”

Ward smiled at her and picked a bright red flower to tuck behind her ear. “Have I told you lately that I think you're amazing?”

“Not for at least an hour.” She smiled appreciatively up at him. “You spoil me, you know. No one's ever been as good to me as you are.” She looked genuinely happy and he couldn't resist the urge to tease her. They had a comfortable easy way about them that they both enjoyed.

“Not even Gable?”

“Stop that.” She made a face at him and ran past him, as he chased her, and then suddenly he caught up to her and grabbed her, and they were kissing in an arbor, and suddenly all the breathlessness they both felt overwhelmed them, and Ward felt he couldn't bear to take his hands or lips from her again. It was almost painful when at last he tore himself away.

“It's not easy, you know.” He looked agonized as they walked slowly back to the house and she nodded. It wasn't easy for her either. But she didn't want to make a mistake with Ward. He had made his intentions clear to her right from the beginning, and it was too dangerous to play games with that. He wanted everything from her, her career, her body, her children, her life. He wanted her to give everything up for him … and at times it was almost tempting to her. Lately she had even told her agent not to rush into the next contract, although he thought she was crazy. But she said she needed time to think, and it was growing more and more difficult to think when Ward was near her.

“You make me crazy too, you know.” She whispered as they went up the pink marble steps and into her study, but it looked so bleak there, so stuffy and much too formal. She went to make them both a cup of tea and then suggested they move to her sitting room upstairs. It was small and warm and cozy, and Ward lit a fire, although they didn't really need it. But it was pretty, and they sat side by side admiring the blaze. “I've had an offer to do a wonderful movie.” She told him, but there was no excitement in her voice as she said it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to do it at all. In fact, her agent had been furious at her indecision.

“Who's in it?”

“No one yet, but they have some awfully good possibilities.”

“Do you want to do it?” He didn't sound upset, he was only asking but she took a long time to answer as she stared into the fire.

“I just don't know.” She looked up at him, feeling contented and at peace with life. “You make me awfully lazy, Ward.”

“What's wrong with that?” He nuzzled his face into her neck, and began to kiss her with one hand lazily sculpting her breast. She gently touched his hand, wanting to push away his fingers, but it felt too good. She had no desire to push him away, hadn't since they'd met, and yet it seemed wiser … wiser … suddenly all she could feel were those delicious burning fingers, their mouths met, and a passion rose in them both that was difficult to quell. They never seemed to come up for air, as her skirt rose slowly past her knees, and his hand found her thighs. Her whole body trembled as his hand moved up, and then suddenly he moved away. Breathless, anguished, he looked at her, and held her face in both his hands. “Faye … I can't … I've got to go …” He couldn't stop himself any longer, he wanted her too badly, had for much too long. He looked at her with tears in his eyes, and then he kissed her, just once more, and it was the moment that decided both their futures. The way she kissed him told him that she didn't want him to go, and then silently she stood up and led him across the hall to the spectacular white bedroom, and without waiting a moment longer, he lay her across the white fox-covered bed. He peeled her clothes from her, devouring her flesh, murmuring to her in whispers, as her fingers gently disentangled him from his clothes, and moments later, they lay side by side, naked, enveloped in the rich white fur, and then suddenly they were engulfed in each other's bodies, and neither of them thought of resisting or being sensible anymore. Faye shouted out for him with a passion that overwhelmed her, and Ward lay within her, his excitement far beyond control. They spent themselves in what would have looked like agony to strangers, and was the purest passion either of them had ever known. And as she lay silent at last, in the circle of his arms, the white fur bedspread soft beneath them, he looked down at her with a love he had never known before.

“Faye, I love you more than life itself.”

“Don't say that….” His passion frightened her sometimes. He loved her so much … what if one day it stopped? She couldn't have stood it. She knew that now.

“Why not? It's true.”

“I love you too.” She looked up at him with a sated smile, and he bent to kiss her once more, and it amazed him how quickly his body begged for her again, and how hungrily she reached for him, and they made love in her bed for hours, never able to get enough, to make up for the years when they had done without each other. It was as though they had waited for this for much, much too long.

“Now what, my love?” He sat on the edge of her bed at midnight, smiling at her as she rose slowly, stretched, and smiled down at the man she so richly loved.

“How about a bath?” And then suddenly she remembered, and covered her mouth with a look of horror. “Oh my God, I forgot to give you dinner.”

“No, you didn't.” He pulled her toward him again. “This suited me just fine.” She blushed faintly and he smoothed the long blond hair back from her face, and then followed her to the white marble bathroom. She filled the tub with warm soapy water, and they slid in together, his feet tickling her in subtle places, as he nibbled on her toes. “I asked you a question a little while ago.”