This Heart Of Mine

She pretended to be asleep.

He stayed in her room for a long time. When he finally left, she rolled over and reached for the telephone.

Her head was fuzzy from the pills they'd given her, and she had to dial twice before she finally got through. When Phoebe answered, Molly started to cry. 'Come get me. Please…'

Dan and Phoebe appeared in her room sometime after midnight. Molly thought Kevin had left, but he must have been sleeping in the lounge because she heard him talking to Dan.

Phoebe stroked her cheek. Fertile Phoebe, who'd given birth to four children without mishap. One of her tears dropped onto Molly's arm. 'Oh, Moll… I'm so sorry.'

When Phoebe left her bedside to talk to the nurse, Kevin took her place. Why wouldn't he go away? He was a stranger, and no one wanted a stranger around when her life was falling apart. Molly turned her head into the pillow.

'You didn't need to call them,' he said quietly. 'I would have driven you back.'

'I know.'

He'd been kind to her, so she made herself look at him. She saw concern in his eyes, as well as fatigue, but she couldn't see even the smallest shadow of grief.

As soon as she got back home, she tore up Daphne Finds a Baby Rabbit and carried it out to the trash.

The next morning the story of her marriage hit the newspapers.

Chapter 6

Melissa the Wood Frog was Daphne's best friend. Most days she liked to dress in pearls and organdy. But every Saturday she added a shawl and pretended she was a movie star. Daphne Gets Lost

'Our Chicago celebrity of the week spotlight turns to wealthy football heiress Molly Somerville. Unlike her flamboyant sister, Chicago Stars owner Phoebe Calebow, Molly Somerville has kept a low profile. But while no one was looking, sly Miss Molly, who dabbles at writing children's books, scooped up Chicago's most eligible bachelor, the delectable Stars quarterback Kevin Tucker. Even close friends were shocked when the couple was married in a very private ceremony at the Calebow home just last week.'

The gossip reporter rearranged her plastic expression into a look of deep concern. 'But it looks like there's no happy ending for the newlyweds. Sources now report the couple suffered a miscarriage almost immediately after the wedding ceremony, and they've since separated. A spokesman for the Stars would say only that the couple was working through their troubles privately and would make no comments to the media.'

Lilly Sherman snapped off the Chicago television station, then took a deep breath. Kevin had married a spoiled Midwestern heiress. Her hands trembled as she closed the French doors that looked out over the garden of her Brentwood home, then picked up the coffee-colored pashmina shawl that lay at the foot of her bed. Somehow she had to steady herself before she reached the restaurant. Although Mallory McCoy was her best friend, this secret was Lilly's own.

She tossed the pashmina over the shoulders of her latest St. John knit, a creamy suit with gold buttons and exquisite braided trim. Then she picked up a brightly wrapped gift bag and set off for one of Beverly Hills' newest restaurants. After she'd been shown to her table, she ordered a blackberry kir. Ignoring the curious gazes of a couple at the next table, she studied the decor.

Subdued lighting glazed the oyster-white walls and illuminated the restaurant's small but fine display of original art. The carpet was aubergine, the linens crisp and white, the silver a sleek Art Deco design. A perfect place to celebrate an unwelcome birthday. Her fiftieth. Not that anyone knew. Even Mallory McCoy thought they were celebrating Lilly's forty-seventh.

Lilly hadn't been given the room's best table, but she'd grown so accustomed to playing the diva that no one would have known it. Two of the top men at ICM occupied the prime spot, and she momentarily contemplated walking over and introducing herself. They would know who she was, of course. Only a rare man didn't remember Ginger Hill from Lace, Inc. But nothing was less welcome in this town than an overweight former sex kitten celebrating a fiftieth birthday.

She reminded herself that she didn't look her age. Her eyes were the same brilliant green the camera had always loved, and although she wore her auburn hair shorter now, Beverly Hills' top colorist made certain it hadn't lost any of its luster. Her face was barely lined, her skin still smooth, thanks to Craig, who wouldn't let her lie in the sun when she was younger.

The twenty-five-year age difference between her husband and herself, along with Craig's good looks and his role as her manager, had invited inevitable comparisons to Ann-Margret and Roger Smith, as well as to Bo and John Derek. And it was true that Craig had been her Svengali. When she'd arrived in L.A. over thirty years ago, she hadn't even possessed a high school diploma, and he'd taught her how to dress, walk, and speak. He'd exposed her to culture and transformed her from an awkward teenager into one of the eighties' hottest sex symbols. Because of Craig, she was well read and culturally literate, with a particular passion for art.

Craig had done everything for her. Too much. Sometimes she'd felt as if she'd been swallowed up by the demanding force of his personality. Even when he was dying, he'd been dictatorial. Still, he'd truly loved her, and she only wished, at the end, that she'd been able to love him more.

She distracted herself with the paintings on the restaurant's walls. Her eyes drifted past a Julian Schnabel and a Keith Haring to take in an exquisite Liam Jenner oil. He was one of her favorite artists, and just looking at the painting calmed her.

She glanced at her watch and saw that Mallory was late as usual. During the six years they'd filmed Lace, Inc., Mallory had always been the last to arrive on the set. Normally Lilly didn't mind, but now it gave her too much time to think about Kevin and the fact that he'd separated from his heiress wife before the ink was dry on the wedding license. The reporter said Molly Somerville had suffered a miscarriage. Lilly wondered how Kevin had felt about that, or even if the baby had been his. Famous athletes were prime targets for unscrupulous women, including rich ones.

Mallory came dashing toward the table. She was still the same size four she'd been during their days on Lace, Inc., and unlike Lilly, she'd been able to keep her career alive by becoming the queen of the miniseries. Even so, Mallory didn't have Lilly's presence in person, and no one took note of her arrival. Lilly had nagged her about this countless times, Attitude, Mallory! Walk like you're getting twenty mil a picture.

'Sorry I'm late,' Mallory chirped. 'Happy, happy, you adorable person! Present later.'

They exchanged social kisses just as if Mallory hadn't held Lilly in her arms more than once through the ordeal of Craig's long illness and death two years ago.

'Do you hate me for being late for your birthday dinner?'

Lilly smiled. 'I know you'll be surprised to hear this, but after twenty years of friendship I've gotten used to it.'

Mallory sighed. 'We've been together longer than either of my marriages lasted.'

'That's because I'm nicer than your ex-husbands.'

Mallory laughed. The waiter appeared to take her drink order, then pressed them to try an amuse-bouche of rata-touille tart with goat cheese while they contemplated the menu. Lilly briefly considered the calories before she agreed to the tart. It was her birthday, after all.

'Do you miss it a lot?' Mallory inquired when the waiter left.

Lilly didn't have to ask what Mallory meant, and she shrugged. 'When Craig was sick, caring for him took so much of my energy that I didn't think about sex. Since he died, there's been too much to do.' And I'm so fat I'd never let any man see my body.

'You're so independent now. Two years ago you didn't have a clue what was in your financial portfolio, let