Night may have fallen in Brentwood, Calif., but deep inside her four-bedroom home Courtney Thorne-Smith is still going strong. She has neatened stacks of her favorite golf magazines, lit some guava-scented candles, and turned her attention to the pillows in a guest room. "I should have done this earlier," she says before stopping midfluff at the sight of a chewed-over dog bone in the middle of the bed. "Apparently the boys were napping in here," she says, mock-grimacing, a reference to her two barkless basenjis, George and Ed. "They make their nest wherever they want."
     Thorne-Smith herself knows something about cocooning. When the serene-eyed star finally sinks into a sofa in her dimly lit, earth-tone living room, it's with a satisfied "aah." "This is the most comfortable couch I've ever been anywhere near," she says, reveling in the mounds of tan chenille. "It's so deep that it's hard to sit on without pillows!" So she's a homebody? "It doesn't have to be my home," she says. "It can be a friend's home, my mom's home. I just want to be in somebody's home. I love sitting around, talking, laughing, hanging out."
     After nearly a decade of putting in exhaustive hours on TV powerhouses Melrose Place and Ally McBeal, Thorne-Smith, 34, had found a way to do all of the above and still make payments on her BMW X5 truck. Her latest gig, as Cheryl, the playful wife on the sitcom According to Jim, is a breeze. "I've got a normal life now," she says. "On Ally I worked with such a great group of people, but it would take us five months to plan a dinner party because we had such long workdays. I had this cast over for dinner our third week."
     Heading to Thorne-Smith's house is pretty much a guaranteed good time, says her TV husband, Jim Belushi—and not only because she has a way with grilled salmon and portobello mushrooms. Her three-story contemporary home rises in a leafy area of Los Angeles so rarefied that neighbors had enough nay-power to get Steven Spielberg to tone down plans for an equestrian complex on his nearby estate.
     Inside, antiques, Persian rugs and white orchids conjure up images of a gentrified clubhouse. But "Court's place is well apointed, not showy," says Belushi. "It's comfortable and warm—like her. You feel really cozy as soon as you walk in, though you might have to fight with her dogs for a chair."

     Thorne-Smith's life has been touched by a tad more conflict. She and sister Jennifer were raised just outside San Francisco by Walter, a former research analyst, and Laura, a real estate agent. As a kid Courtney was a scrappy tomboy whose bluster hid the fact that she was shy. Her parents' divorce, when she was 7, added to her insecurities—as did transferring from the Peninsula School, a progressive private school "where kids learned weaving," to the public Tamalpais High. "I was terrified," she says. "I had no idea who I was and desperately wanted to be liked." But she performed in school plays and felt right at home with the "drama geeks." During her senior year she landed an agent and a part in the movie Lucas.
     After graduating in 1984, Thorne-Smith moved to Los Angeles. Two years later she got roles in the TV version of Fast Times at Ridgemont High and in the films Revenge of the Nerds II and Summer School. In 1990 she scored as Harry Hamlin's girlfriend on L.A. Law. That led to a starring role on Melrose Place as resident goody-goody Alison Parker.
     Thorne-Smith quit the nighttime soap in 1997, vowing never again to work on a high-stress, hour-long show. Still, she couldn't resist producer David E. Kelley's invitation to join the cast of Ally McBeal. But after three years of playing straightforward attorney Georgia Thomas, she was burned out. "I was so tired of waking up at 3:30 in the morning," Thorne-Smith says. She went looking for the lighter schedule of a sitcom, with less-than-funny results. "I didn't get some jobs I wanted, and that was painful," she says. "I actually said to a friend, 'That's it—I'm quitting!' And I meant it. I was just so frustrated."
     Adding to her woes: the dissolution of her seven-month marriage in 2000 to Andrew Conrad, a genetic scientist she met through Melrose pal Rob Estes. "There was no drama," she says now. "He's a good guy, I'm a good girl. We just shouldn't have gotten married."
     Now Thorne-Smith has a new beau. She is understandably protective of the relationship, saying only that the man in question is a cardiologist based in Boulder, Colo. She met him last July while visiting her mother. "We have a lot in common," says Thorne-Smith. "We bike, play golf in Hawaii."

     Solo, she hits the Burke Williams spa for a massage or picks up a painting in a curio shop. And though her "classic, sporty" style is satisfied with "15,000 pairs of black pants, lots of white T-shirts and black boots," she will venture into hip clothiers like Fred Segal. But that's rare: "My grandmother wore high-heeled slippers until the day she died, but I'm more like my mom, who wore Birkenstocks."
     Not surprisingly Thorne-Smith would rather be at home reading a Jonathan Kellerman mystery or writing autobiographical short stories than working the red carpet. She has earned that right. When she bought her house six years ago, it came with some challenges. "It didn't have a kitchen, and there'd been a lot of flooding," says Thorne-Smith, who was nonetheless swayed by its skylights and seclusion (the property adjoins a protected canyon favored by deer).
     Today she has a French country kitchen, a dining room grand enough for an eight-seat Spanish walnut table, a bedroom boasting fluffy rose-motif drapes and a sitting room replete with a chaise lounge worthy of Marie Antoinette. The living room is her favorite. Quips the Biography Channel fiend: "Probably because the TV is there!"
     Not that her sofa has a permanent indentation. This is one fit homebody. Thorne-Smith hits her own treadmill and workout bench, runs, bikes and does yoga. She's big on organic veggies and recently kicked her "jarring" java habit. She gets an even bigger rush from her niece, Cassidy, age 3, judging from the slew of photos throughout the house and the overflowing toy chest in her kitchen. "She's taking over," says the actress. "I'm crazy about her."
     Yes, Thorne-Smith's life, it would seem, is as cushy as that divine divan. "I have a wonderful boyfriend. I just adore my friends. I love my family," she says. "I'm in a really good place."
     So glamorous movie career be damned ("I know someone who's off on an eight-month location shoot. Are you kidding me? I can't leave my friends for a week"). And you can definitely forget about seeing her in one of those elaborate Jane Austen period pieces anytime soon. "I have a feeling the dresses," she says, easing into a raucous laugh, "would be very uncomfortable."

how to get the look

Re-creating Courtney Thorne-Smith's cozy retreat

To suit her fuss-free lifestyle, Courtney Thorne-Smith opted for rich, earthy hues, warm wood antiques, and easy-to-care for upholstered pieces in her secluded L.A. home. Working with Santa Monica design firm Lafia/Arvin to achieve the laid-back aesthetic, the actress had one request: The house had to be dog-friendly. The result? Décor that's down-to-earth but still drop-dead luxurious. —Melissa Urdang

leather and grace Thorne-Smith's tufted leather ottoman is her designer's own creation; Ethan Allen's upholstered ottoman is similar ($639; 800-228-9229). Striped drapery fabric is Pierre by Scalamandré and is hung on cast-iron rods by Murray's Iron Works (finials, $188 each; 22-foot rod, $704; 310-289-3587). Thorne-Smith's velvet pillows and chenille-tassel pillows were custom-made; we found similar crushed velvet pillows at ABC Carpet & Home ($195 each; 212-473-3000).

magic carpets The hand-knotted wool Egyptian rug in the dining room is by Aga John (11' x 14', $5,600; 310-657-0890); our wool rug by IMT International is machine-made in Belgium (5' x 8', $700; Central Carpet, 888-414-7847). The Oushak-style wool rug in the living room is hand-spun in Turkey (9' x 12', $10,000; Mansour, 310-652-9999). Custom-made dining chairs are by Minton-Spidell in Los Angeles, 310-836-0403; ours are from Ethan Allen ($619 each; 800-228-9229).