mixed with the scent of hot wax, was erotic, her voice soothing. '
'And I suppose I liked the idea of giving orders rather than taking them. With directing you can alter a scene, change a tone, set the pace for an entire story. An actor can only work with one character, no matter how complex it may be."
"You've never directed either of your parents." Tory let the words hang so that he could take them either as a statement or a question. When he smiled, the creases in his cheeks deepened so that she wondered how it would feel to run her fingers along them.
"No." He tipped more wine into his glass. "It might make quite a splash, don't you think? The three of us together on one film. Even though they've been divorced for over twenty-five years, they'd send the glossies into a frenzy."
"You could do two separate films," she pointed out.
"True." He pondered over it a moment. "If the right scripts came along..." Abruptly he shook his head. "I've thought of it, even been approached a couple of times, but I'm not sure it would be a wise move professionally or personally. They're quite a pair," he stated with a grin. "Temperamental, explosive and probably two of the best dramatic actors in the last fifty years. Both of them wring the last drop of blood from a character."
"I've always admired them," Tory agreed. "Especially in the movies they made together. They put a lot of chemistry on the screen."
"And off it," Phil murmured. "It always amazed me that they managed to stay together for almost ten years.
Neither of them had that kind of longevity in their other marriages. The problem was that they never stopped competing. It gave them the spark on the screen and a lot of problems at home. It's difficult to live with someone when you're afraid he or she might be just a little better than you are."
"But you're very fond of them, aren't you?" She watched his mobile brow lift in question. "It shows," she told him. "It's rather nice."
"Fond," he agreed. "Maybe a little wary. They're formidable people, together or separately. I grew up listening to lines being cued over breakfast and hearing producers torn to shreds at dinner. My father lived each role. If he was playing a psychotic, I could expect to find a crazed man in the bathroom."
"Obsession," Tory recalled, delighted. "1957."
"Very good," Phil approved. "Are you a fan?"
''Naturally. I got my first kiss watching Marshall Kincaid in Endless Journey. '' She gave a throaty laugh.
"The movie was the more memorable of the two."
"You were in diapers when that movie was made," Phil calculated.
"Ever heard of the late show?"
"Young girls," he stated, "should be in bed at that hour."
Tory suppressed a laugh. Resting her elbows on the table, she set her chin on cupped hands. "And young boys?"
"Would stay out of trouble," he finished.
"The hell they would," Tory countered, chuckling. "As I recall, your...exploits started at a tender age. What was the name of that actress you were involved with when you were sixteen? She was in her twenties as I remember, and—"
"More wine?" Phil interrupted, filling her glass before she could answer.
"Then there was the daughter of that comedian." "We were like cousins."
"Really?" Tory drew out the word with a doubtful look. "And the dancer...ah, Nicki Clark."
"Great moves," Phil remembered, then grinned at her. "You seem to be more up on my... exploits than I am. Did you spend all your free time at Harvard reading movie magazines?"
"My roommate did," Tory confessed. ''She was a drama major. I see her on a commercial now and again.
And then I knew someone in the business. Your name's dropped quite a bit at parties."
"The actor you dated."
"Total recall," Tory murmured, a bit uncomfortable. "You amaze me."
"Tool of the trade. What was his name?"
Tory picked up her wine, studying it for a moment. "Chad Billings."
"Billings?" Surprised and not altogether pleased, Phil frowned at her. "A second-rate leech, Tory. I wouldn't think him
'And I suppose I liked the idea of giving orders rather than taking them. With directing you can alter a scene, change a tone, set the pace for an entire story. An actor can only work with one character, no matter how complex it may be."
"You've never directed either of your parents." Tory let the words hang so that he could take them either as a statement or a question. When he smiled, the creases in his cheeks deepened so that she wondered how it would feel to run her fingers along them.
"No." He tipped more wine into his glass. "It might make quite a splash, don't you think? The three of us together on one film. Even though they've been divorced for over twenty-five years, they'd send the glossies into a frenzy."
"You could do two separate films," she pointed out.
"True." He pondered over it a moment. "If the right scripts came along..." Abruptly he shook his head. "I've thought of it, even been approached a couple of times, but I'm not sure it would be a wise move professionally or personally. They're quite a pair," he stated with a grin. "Temperamental, explosive and probably two of the best dramatic actors in the last fifty years. Both of them wring the last drop of blood from a character."
"I've always admired them," Tory agreed. "Especially in the movies they made together. They put a lot of chemistry on the screen."
"And off it," Phil murmured. "It always amazed me that they managed to stay together for almost ten years.
Neither of them had that kind of longevity in their other marriages. The problem was that they never stopped competing. It gave them the spark on the screen and a lot of problems at home. It's difficult to live with someone when you're afraid he or she might be just a little better than you are."
"But you're very fond of them, aren't you?" She watched his mobile brow lift in question. "It shows," she told him. "It's rather nice."
"Fond," he agreed. "Maybe a little wary. They're formidable people, together or separately. I grew up listening to lines being cued over breakfast and hearing producers torn to shreds at dinner. My father lived each role. If he was playing a psychotic, I could expect to find a crazed man in the bathroom."
"Obsession," Tory recalled, delighted. "1957."
"Very good," Phil approved. "Are you a fan?"
''Naturally. I got my first kiss watching Marshall Kincaid in Endless Journey. '' She gave a throaty laugh.
"The movie was the more memorable of the two."
"You were in diapers when that movie was made," Phil calculated.
"Ever heard of the late show?"
"Young girls," he stated, "should be in bed at that hour."
Tory suppressed a laugh. Resting her elbows on the table, she set her chin on cupped hands. "And young boys?"
"Would stay out of trouble," he finished.
"The hell they would," Tory countered, chuckling. "As I recall, your...exploits started at a tender age. What was the name of that actress you were involved with when you were sixteen? She was in her twenties as I remember, and—"
"More wine?" Phil interrupted, filling her glass before she could answer.
"Then there was the daughter of that comedian." "We were like cousins."
"Really?" Tory drew out the word with a doubtful look. "And the dancer...ah, Nicki Clark."
"Great moves," Phil remembered, then grinned at her. "You seem to be more up on my... exploits than I am. Did you spend all your free time at Harvard reading movie magazines?"
"My roommate did," Tory confessed. ''She was a drama major. I see her on a commercial now and again.
And then I knew someone in the business. Your name's dropped quite a bit at parties."
"The actor you dated."
"Total recall," Tory murmured, a bit uncomfortable. "You amaze me."
"Tool of the trade. What was his name?"
Tory picked up her wine, studying it for a moment. "Chad Billings."
"Billings?" Surprised and not altogether pleased, Phil frowned at her. "A second-rate leech, Tory. I wouldn't think him
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