Director's Cut: Book Three of the Millersburg Quartet

By Valerie Douglas

Once the golden boy in Hollywood, Jack Tyler's life and career are on the skids. He's fighting his demons and hoping to rediscover his love of theater. Struggling to find some direction, he visits an old friend in Millersburg and discovers the community theater group there.
He also discovers schoolteacher Molly Brighton.
Molly, though, wants no part of the sexy new director. He's too handsome, too charming, too dangerous to her heart. The attraction is difficult to ignore, especially when aided by Jack's old friend, an unrepentant matchmaker with his own reasons for bringing them together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie Douglas
• Release date: Jun 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465720184

Valerie Douglas

Valerie Douglas is a prolific writer and a genre-crosser, much to the delight of her fans. A fan of authors from almost every genre, she writes classic fantasy, romance, suspense, horror, and, as V.J. Devereaux, erotic romance. Happily married, she's companion to two dogs, three cats and an African clawed frog named Hopper who delights in tormenting the cats from his tank.

Book preview

Director’s Cut

By

Valerie Douglas

Published by the author as a member of the

Alexandria Publishing Group

at SmashWords

Director’s Cut Copyright © 2011 Valerie Douglas

Cover art by V. J. Douglas

Formatting by RikHall.com

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author.

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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Discover other titles by Valerie Douglas

Fantasy

The Coming Storm

A Convocation of Kings

Not Magic Enough

Setting Boundaries

Heart of the Gods

Servant of the Gods

Romance

The Millersburg Quartet

Dirty Politics

Irish Fling

Two Up

Coming Soon

Lucky Charm

Picture Perfect

Nike’s Wings

Dedication

To the original Jay and Marian, a wonderful example of love, grace and courage

and to Erin, my most dedicated and dependable reader, who tells me what I need to hear

Chapter One

The theater was dark, only the stage was lit, brilliantly, illuminating the actors there. It was nearly the last scene of the last act of Agatha Christie’s Witness for the Prosecution and so far everything had gone smoothly, no one had noticeably dropped a line or flubbed a cue. All around Molly the members of the audience seemed to be enjoying the show.

Mike Weber was doing a journeyman’s job of playing Leonard Vole, the accused murderer. A fairly good-looking man, Mike liked being on stage but seldom saw the need to stretch his talents too far. The good thing was that the play didn’t demand too much of him save that he be good-looking and apparently earnest. In comparison, Mary Ellen was doing her usual job of overacting in the role of Christine Vole - even to the point of trying to mimic Marlene Dietrich’s accent, but that, too, worked to the play’s advantage.

John Bannister playing the attorney for the defense was the key. John was by far the Millersburg Theater Company’s best actor - if all he could play was character roles. A big man with a broad face, John was a natural at all the scenes that required a good strong character actor, like the Grapes of Wrath, or here as Sir Wilfred Robards, Council for the Defense - he had a naturally stentorian voice and the gift to be able to moderate it.

On stage, the critical scene was approaching. In a moment, Mary Ellen would give Molly her cue…

Excitement, exhilaration and anticipation set Molly’s nerves humming.

What if she forgot her lines? It wasn’t as if she had that many. Her mind went utterly blank in a burst of stage fright. Terror twisted her stomach into knots. It happened every time, with every show. She knew she’d remember them the moment her feet hit the stage. Even so she loosened the belt of the trench coat with trembling fingers.

Her first cue came. She slid out of the seat and started down the aisle, walking as normally as possible in the three-inch heels. Everything now was timing.

Please don’t let me trip and fall, she prayed, as the next cue came. The trench coat dropped as she raced up the stairs and threw herself into ‘Leonard Vole’s’ arms.

The audience gasped as if they’d never seen the sudden twist coming and number of people gave gratifyingly long, low whistles of approval.

Totally in character, Molly didn’t even notice the sounds on a conscious level, all her attention was on ‘Leonard Vole’ and her few lines.

Until that moment Jack, observing from the audience, had been amused and somewhat entertained by the play. Most of the rest of the audience hadn’t noticed that the ‘judge’ - the play company’s manager and occasional director - was asleep on the bench. Otherwise, it was a fairly standard community play, with the varying degrees of talents among the actors. Some could clearly have been better with a little more effort, some could have been toned down but the audience seemed happy enough.

Then the girl appeared out of the audience - not a particularly novel piece of staging but it worked here - and the lights hit that red-gold hair that burst like a halo around her face, her face being something he noticed after he got a load of that dress.

Horizontal black and white stripes should not have looked that good on any woman, but, clinging to those phenomenal curves like a second skin and stopping just short of scandalous below her ass, on her they did. Those curves should have been illegal at any speed but he wouldn’t have minded taking them, first, fast and hard, and then a second time, just to enjoy the ride.

Her breasts were high, full and firm, her bottom round and tight, perfect. Add a tiny red belt around a slender waist, a pair of fuck-me red heels at the end of incredibly shapely legs and she was sex on spike heels. Then she turned around to face the audience and he got a better view of an elfin, heart-shaped face surrounded by hair the color of the sunset.

An angel’s face on a body made for sin. Glowing amber eyes were fringed by long lashes. Her mouth was painted a wet vivid red in a shade to match her hair and gave him visions of all the wonderful things a mouth like that could do to a man.

Now that was hot.

His body reacted appropriately. With an effort, he reined himself back in.

The last thing he needed was another bimbo. He still hadn’t gotten completely rid of the last one.

Still, that was one nice pop tart. Maybe just to play with a little…? That, of course, was how he’d gotten in trouble in the first place.

The crowd came to its collective feet as the play came to its satisfying conclusion, the betrayed wife standing over the body of her cheating husband to the shock and horror of the court. All save the defense attorney who could almost be seen considering defending the new widow. That was a nice touch, subtle, probably unnoticed by most of the audience.

Darkness fell as the lights faded and the actors retreated off stage.

The lights came back up again as the lead players ran out to take their bows, then the supporting players, before the girl in the black and white dress appeared, to be greeted with wolf whistles and thunderous applause from the appreciative males in the audience.

Of which Jack was one.

For the first time he truly knew what titian meant. As many redheads as he’d seen in his life that was the first time he’d seen that vibrant color, as rich as the sunset. It was too much to hope for that it was natural.

She smiled as she took her bows gracefully.

A little startled at the intensity of the applause Molly shook her head, then laughed, dipped into a careful curtsey - given the nearly non-existent length of her skirt - and then hurriedly stepped back behind the stars of the show, Mary Ellen, Mike and John. It wouldn’t do to upstage Mary Ellen, who would pout and snipe for the next two weeks if she did.

The three central players took another bow and then the lights went down again.

Gratefully, Molly retreated backstage with the rest of the cast.

Since the applause had been appropriately long enough apparently Mary Ellen had been undisturbed by the attention Molly had gotten as she was acting like her usual self, a little too aggressive, just a little different.

Tall - nearly five foot eleven - and gangly, in the right makeup and under stage lights to be honest Mary Ellen could look presentable enough but once the makeup was off, she was more than a little plain, with a bumpy crooked nose and thin badly styled blond hair, despite all suggestions and referrals. She was a nice enough girl most of the time but this was the first non-character role she’d played and she was already hinting that she intended to audition for more of the ingénue/leading lady roles.

That would make things awkward as Molly had hopes in that direction herself.

New to this theater group, though, Molly was willing to pay her dues first and see what happened after. Who was it, after all, who said there were no small parts, merely small actors?

She smiled. Sometimes the smaller parts were more fun. Like this one. It had been kind of fun to play the airhead bimbo as something of a stretch away from schoolteacher Molly.

With relief, she applied face cream liberally, wiping away the layers of makeup. Even on a small production like this, makeup had to be layered on pretty heavily and she preferred a more natural look when she wasn’t on stage.

That dress worked fabulously, Gordon raved, coming up behind her. I told you it would.

Of middling height, graying, with a broad, sometimes scraggly beard and a round belly, he tended to remind her of a slightly demented Santa Claus. For once, for his role of the judge, his beard was neatly combed.

Looking at his reflection in the little cast-off brass dressing table, she smiled at him fondly.

I had my doubts, she said, but you were right.

The director of the company, Gordon was as gay as a Broadway party but he loved the theater with a passion that couldn’t be matched by anyone else in town. As director and occasional actor, he was only so so and knew it but he gave it his best effort when he did act and the company was making enough money to give the owners of the old refurbished movie theater some return. He played the fill-in roles in plays like this one, the judge here, butlers and whatnot in others.

It went well, don’t you think? he asked, nervously.

He was always nervous opening night but tonight he seemed more nervous than usual. She’d heard rumors, something about a new director, someone with real experience. But there were always rumors.

It did, she said reassuringly. It went fabulously.

Yes, yes, he said, fingering his thick, gray beard, I thought so, too. Well, I have company waiting outside.

Very nice job, Mary Ellen, he said somewhat distractedly as he went by the other girl.

He hurried out to the front.

Mary Ellen had been listening intently to what one of the stagehands whispered as Vicky hurried out to the lobby without bothering to change.

In fact, a lot of whispering was going on backstage.

What was happening? Molly wondered.

Whatever it was she’d find out soon enough - tomorrow, probably. She didn’t have time tonight. If she could, she was going to try to put in an hour or so studying so she could spend the morning with Cam and Jesse at the Saturday morning farmers market. As long as at least two of the four of them were free - with Ali in Ireland it made things a little more difficult - they would get together each morning for the farmer’s street market and then breakfast at Cam’s apartment.

Breakfast consisted of whatever they found at the market - fresh bread, eggs, vegetables, whatever. It was usually pretty spectacular. A psychologist, Cam had taken cooking classes to unwind, so their breakfasts were usually culinary masterpieces. Molly had learned a thing or two from just watching her. They all had, even Jesse, who couldn’t even remember to stock her refrigerator half the time.

However, that was time was taken away from her studies. In the summer, like many teachers, she took the required additional education classes and worked a second job to pay for them. This year she was working for the Millersburg Vacation Bureau during the week and on occasional Saturday mornings.

Theater was what she did for fun. And to stay sane. And because she enjoyed it, every moment of it. Even the stage fright, the occasional on-stage disasters, the rehearsals, the backstage drama, all of it.

Shaking her head at herself and smiling a little, Molly ignored the whispering in favor of getting her face clean and changing into her street clothes. With a sigh, she hung the black and white dress on a hanger, grabbed the hanger and her makeup bag and followed the others out.

An excited knot of people had gathered in the center of the lobby.

Curious, Molly glanced over, cornering Chris Martin as he started past her.

In this show, Chris had been both prop man and a member of the jury. Chris rarely acted, preferring the backstage work of managing the lights and props. Which was fine with everyone. He was a nice guy, quiet, unassuming and organized in a way Gordon wasn’t.

What’s that all about? Molly asked, gesturing at the small crowd.

Tall, skinny as a rail, his brown hair all askew, Chris shrugged.

The new director, he said, according to Gordon. Some guy named Jack Tyler.

Well, Molly said, surprised, as the little crowd parted and Mary Ellen stepped back enough for Molly to see the man standing in the middle of the crowd.

It was like a punch in the gut, a purely female visceral reaction.

Oh, yes, he was hot.

Too gorgeous by far, was the first thing that popped into her head.

Thick, slightly wavy, dark hair fell just above arched brows and piercing dark brown eyes. He had high cheekbones with just a slight hollow beneath and a sharp, firm chin. And dimples. Killer dimples. Something about the way his polo shirt fit him hinted at firm muscles beneath it. Then there was the fit of his jeans.

Very sexy.

A burst of lust went through her but then she was only human, and female, and he was definitely an attractive man.

He also looks vaguely familiar, she thought, frowning a little, although she couldn’t say why.

Mary Ellen and Vicky, as well as half a dozen other women and Gordon, were fawning all over him.

You’re going to be a wonderful director, Mary Ellen gushed.

Gently disengaging his arm from her grasp, Jack Tyler smiled sardonically but not unkindly. Thanks for the vote of confidence.

Molly wanted no part of it or him.

In her experience, men that good-looking would only break your heart before moving on to their next conquest. Aidan and Noah, her friend Ali’s husband and Cam’s fiancé, respectively, were the exceptions to that rule, but they were the exceptions, not the rule. Both Ali and Cam had found that out the hard way.

Most of the men Molly knew who were that good-looking - and being even on the periphery of the theater world she met a fair number of them - barely made the effort to develop a personality, much less a brain. They weren’t looking for a commitment, just the next new thing. She didn’t need that.

Besides, by all appearances he had enough people kowtowing to him, he surely didn’t need another. They’d be auditioning for the next show during the next week so she’d meet him soon enough.

Thanks, Chris, she said as Vicky hurried over.

She could hear the man talking to the others and caught his dry response to one of Gordon’s questions.

Isn’t he gorgeous? Vicky stage-whispered.

She pitched her voice just loud enough so he would hear, slanting her big brown eyes in his direction, earning a murderous look from Mary Ellen.

With an effort, Molly restrained herself from rolling her eyes at them. No way was Molly getting between those two.

She wondered idly if she should warn the poor man about Mary Ellen. In her own oddly insecure and oblivious way, Mary Ellen was convinced she was a man-killer. She latched on to every straight man she came across.

Involuntarily, though, Molly glanced at him and caught the arch look he sent their way.

Lifting her chin and an eyebrow slightly in return she thought, Nope, just for that, he’s on his own.

Nodding noncommittally to Vicky, Molly said softly and dryly, That he is. You’d better get over there, though, before Mary Ellen gets him.

Vicky - or Victoria Helena Griffith as the play programs read - snorted indelicately.

Like that will happen, she said, sending coquettish glances Jack Tyler’s way.

Sadly, that was very likely true. Mary Ellen was no real competition for the slender, winsome looking Vicky with her huge round brown eyes, pointed chin and long light brown hair, even