The Actor and the Housewife Read Online Free Page B

gorgeous redheaded server chose that moment to come by and ask if they needed anything else.
    “A muzzle,” Felix grumbled, just as Becky said, “A fly swatter.”
    “Um, sorry?” the server asked, her expression adorably quizzical.
    Becky sighed. “There was this enormous fly over here a minute ago—”
    “It was trying to lick her ice cream,” Felix said.
    “I thought we should swat it, but he is so humane.”
    Felix held up a finger. “ ‘Just muzzle it,’ said I. ‘Just muzzle the wee creature so it cannot consume your confection.’ ”
    “He always goes Scottish when he’s trying to protect his pesty pals. He’s very tender-hearted actually. Don’t believe those tabloids about punching reporters and sucking the marrow from the bones of the elderly. Mostly rumors.”
    “But for that one time . . .”
    “There was no evidence, so it doesn’t count,” she said through clenched teeth.
    “Ooo, right. At any rate, the winged creature seems to have fl own away.”
    “So we’re good.” Becky smiled pleasantly at the redhead. “Thanks for checking.”
    The redhead tried her best to smile cheerfully but mostly she looked confused, and she stumbled on a stair as she walked away.
    Becky took a deep spoonful of ice cream to keep her mouth occupied, because she wanted to grin right at him, a big old embarrassingly pleased grin.
    He’s not Augie, she reminded herself—he’s Felix Callahan. And you’re wearing a purple canvas tent for a shirt.
    But she did glance at him and saw that Felix was smiling in his slow, sweet way, a smile full of fondness and ideas, and she felt it hit her in the gut. He was most definitely Felix Callahan.
    “Would you like to dance?” he asked.
    “What, are you serious? I can barely plod.”
    He looked at the dance floor, where a tourist couple who seemed pretty well toasted were spinning and swaying to the DJ’s music. “In this crowd, plodding would be an improvement.”
    “Wait a minute . . . You just want to dance with me because you think it would be funny.”
    He raised one eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it?”
    She tossed down her cloth napkin like a gauntlet. “I’ll have you know that I’m a fairly decent dancer.”
    He held out his elbow, she took it, and they walked out as “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” began. He held her left hand and put his other hand on her theoretical waist, deftly leading her into a gentle two-step. After a time, he would switch up the steps, lead her backward, swing her out, and she was proud that she could keep up, belly and all.
    “When I was a teen and going to church dances,” she said, “the adult advisers told us to keep a Bible’s distance between our bodies during the slow songs. This pregnant belly does the same thing.”
    “It is rather rudely bumping into me.”
    “Can’t be helped. Oof, he just kicked again. This kid knows right where to boot me. You’d think this swaying would rock him to sleep.”
    He spun her out and brought her back so that they danced side by side.
    “You’re right,” he said. “You can dance.”
    “Aren’t you at all worried that some smart-aleck paparazzi might take our picture for a tabloid? Imagine the headline: ‘Who Is Felix Callahan’s Secret Pregnant Girlfriend? And Does His Wife Know?’ ”
    He stopped dancing. “Excellent point. Shall we sit?”
    “Not yet. I love this song.”
    He scanned the room looking for cameras, dancing her toward their table.
    “You are paranoid,” she said.
    “With reason.”
    “Seriously, who’d believe that the man married to French model Celeste Bodine would frolic with pregnant me?”
    “Who’d believe that the man in a relationship with Elizabeth Hur-ley would pay for professional attention?”
    “Oh, all right. The song’s almost over anyway.”
    They returned to the table and Felix tried to claim her bill. She refused and gathered her purse and things, keeping possession of the contract as they walked to the elevators.
    “Listen, I