Extraordinarily Yours: Collection 1 (An Extraordinarily Yours Romance Book 8)

by J. Kenner

  “It’s dangerous,” Hale confided. “Hieronymous will keep sending his minions.”

  “They can’t kill me. You said so yourself.”

  “They can come pretty damn close.”

  She licked her lips, and he could tell she was digging in for a fight. “Right now, I’m really not interested in them. Or you, for that matter.” She stood up straighter, as if she was gathering courage. “I had a great time with you last night, even if it all was an illusion.”

  Her tears were falling in earnest now, and he balled his fist against the urge to comfort her. He had to be strong, for them both.

  “Maybe that’s all I’ll ever have,” she continued. “An illusion. But if that’s the case, then I intend to go out with a bang.” She lifted her chin, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m keeping the belt, Hale. And I’m going to use it, too.”

  “Superheroes?” Mel sat on Tracy’s now-repaired bed, her fingers lost in Missy’s fur.

  “Technically, they’re called Protectors. But it seems to be the same difference.”

  “And the belt is magic.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “No wonder your grandmother was so popular.”

  “I know.” Tracy closed her eyes and leaned back against the chaise lounge. She’d covered it with a quilt, but even so, the loose springs poked at her through the ripped material. “She cheated. I can’t believe my grandmother actually cheated.” She wiped away a single tear. “I always thought her fans loved her for her. It never even occurred to me it was all a lie.”

  “But it wasn’t a lie,” Mel said, leaning forward. “She quit wearing the belt, right?”

  Tracy shrugged. “That’s what Hale said.”

  “And there’s no pictures of her wearing it except early on.”

  “So?”

  “So, she really was loved. Maybe she just needed something to boost her confidence at the beginning.” Her friend smiled at her. “Maybe that’s all you needed, too.”

  “Yeah, well, my confidence hasn’t been boosted. Quite the opposite, actually.” Her chin started to quiver, and she bit down on her lower lip. Tears threatened again. Damn herself for caring so much about what Hale thought!

  “You’re making a mistake,” Mel said.

  “About what? About Hale? I don’t think so.”

  “Yes, about Hale. And about not giving the belt back. Haven’t you even paid any attention to that inscription your grandmother wrote?”

  She’d paid attention, all right. She’d wished for Hale, and look where it had gotten her. “I’m tired of being invisible, Mel. I’m tired of it. And Grandma left me the belt for a reason.” She held her head up, reassuring herself as much as Mel. “She left it to me, and I’m going to use it.”

  Mel just shook her head.

  “What?”

  “You’re in love with the guy. Such a short amount of time, and you’re really in love with the guy.”

  “Hale? Don’t be silly,” Tracy snapped.

  “Lie to him all you want,” Mel said, “but don’t lie to me. I know the symptoms. And the wound goes too deep to have been inflicted by some guy you just care for a little.” She pulled her legs up, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Yup. You’re in love with him.”

  Tracy opened her mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. How could she argue with the truth? “I really thought he liked me, Mel. And I liked him. And I was so very, very wrong.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Tracy wiped away an escaped tear. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I said bullshit. Hale does like you. Heck, he loves you. Belt or no belt, that guy cares about you.”

  “No. I mean, he told me. Everything was the belt. He likes me, sure, but—”

  “Bullsh—”

  Tracy held up her hand. “I got the point.”

  “All I’m saying is that you weren’t wearing the belt that first day you told me about with him. Remember? He jump-started your car. He was flirting with you then, you said.”

  True. But that didn’t mean anything. “The guy flirts with women. That’s what he does.” She remembered the kiss-kiss with the model from the hotel. “Believe me. I’ve seen him in his true form.”

  Mel just sat back and pulled Missy up into her lap. “Mark my words,” she said. “He really likes you. I don’t know why he won’t admit it, but it’s true. And if you try hard enough, I think you can get him to admit it out loud.”

  Tracy wished Mel were right, but knew she wasn’t. It didn’t matter, though. Hale might not really like her—heck, no guy might really like her—but she intended to have what she’d set out for at the beginning of this whole stupid adventure. She was going to charm the socks off as many men as she could. Have flings with whomever she wanted.

  If she couldn’t have reality, she’d take fantasy. After all, fantasies were the only things that had gotten her through the last twenty-seven years.

  Hale hovered around Tracy all day on Monday at the set. Part of her was delighted he was there, but a bigger part of her knew it was only because she was wearing the belt.

  He’d said she had power over any man she desired, and she’d tried—oh, how she’d tried—to not want him anymore. But it just wasn’t possible. By mid-afternoon, it was beginning to drive her crazy.

  “You don’t need to be here, you know.” She glanced at the ferret perched on his shoulder. “We’re not even close to shooting Elmer’s scenes.”

  “Protection, remember?” He glanced pointedly at her waist, then let his gaze trail slowly back up until their eyes met. His were smoldering. She hoped hers were cold and distant, but she had a feeling she wasn’t that lucky.

  “I’m fine here. It’s a closed set. Now, please, go home.”

  “Not gonna happen. Besides, I need to let Elmer get used to the lights.” A devious grin touched his lips. “I’m not just here for you, Tracy. This is about work, too.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” She scowled, determined to get some mileage out of the belt whether he was there or not. “Just don’t cramp my style.”

  She spun away, wishing her hair were thicker and bouncier. What she’d wanted to do was flip it over her shoulder in a carefree gesture as she turned back to the craft-services table. What she’d ended up doing was giving herself a crick in her neck. Her hair, of course, just hung there limply.

  “Your neck okay?” Gary, the assistant director, moved closer.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks. Just a little crick.” She cocked her head, considering. Gary was awfully cute, but Tracy had always assumed he was gay. Now, she wondered if maybe she’d been wrong. Or, maybe, with the belt it didn’t matter.

  Testing her theory, she inched closer to Gary. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hale scowl and cross his arms over his chest. Well, too bad for him. He wanted to hang around? She didn’t intend to change her plans just because he was stubborn.

  Moving closer, she aimed a smile at Gary. “Actually, it is a little sore. I don’t suppose you could . . .” She trailed off, hoping the man got the message.

  He did. His face lit up, and suddenly, his hand was on her neck, massaging the sore spot. The massage felt absolutely delicious. Nothing else felt right at all.

  “Um, Trace. I’ve been meaning to ask you. Have you got a date yet to the company picnic?”

  Every year, this production company held a picnic at Griffith Park. Through brute force of will, Tracy managed to not look at Hale. “Actually, Gary, I don’t.”

  “Really?” The inflection in his voice skyrocketed, as if she’d just said she truly believed the world was flat. “Well, then, would you care to go with me?”

  “Sur—”

  “No.” Hale stepped forward and slipped his arm around her waist. “Sorry, Gary. She’s going with me.”

  “No, I’m not.” She turned back to Gary. “I’m not going with him.”

  “Yes, you are. And Gary was just leaving. Weren’t you, Gary?” Hale pulled himself up to his full six-plus f
eet. His broad shoulders loomed over the assistant director’s five-foot-eight, thin frame. All in all, Gary didn’t stand a chance.

  “Um, yeah,” Gary said, already taking a step backward.

  A moment later, as Gary hightailed it out of there, Tracy whipped around to face Hale, her face burning with anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “My job.”

  “Your job?” She put her hands on her hips and waited for an explanation.

  “Yes. My job. Protecting you.”

  “From Gary. From sweet Gary who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Hale just shrugged. “I call ’em as I see ’em.”

  “Uh-huh. Let’s set up some rules, okay, Superstud? Rule number one. You can protect me from muggers and evil superheroes. Fine. I’ve got no problem with that. But don’t protect me from dates. That’s not your job.”

  “He didn’t really want to go out with you.”

  “Yeah?” She cocked her head. “How do you know?”

  His hand slipped around her waist, and she fought a shiver. She backed away, needing to break contact.

  “The belt, Tracy. Remember? He asked you out because of the belt.”

  Even though he was right—hell, she’d orchestrated it—a fresh wave of anger and hurt washed over her. “And that’s all it’ll ever be, won’t it? Because why should anyone notice me otherwise? That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

  He flinched, as if she’d slapped him, but didn’t say anything.

  “Well? Isn’t it? I mean, you certainly wouldn’t have fallen for me if I hadn’t put you under some spell.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. “That’s all I’m ever going to have, Hale. So, dammit, leave me alone and let me have it.”

  “Tracy . . .” He reached out to her, his voice soft and warm, and she had to fight the urge to run into his arms and bury her face against his chest. But he didn’t really care. Not really. Everything was an illusion, him most of all.

  “Ms. Tannin.” It was a new voice. She wiped her eyes and turned around in time to see Burke heading toward her. “There you are, Tracy.”

  “Hi, Burke. Are you ready for the horses?”

  “No, no. Not for a few more hours.” He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her aside. “I wanted to talk about your career.”

  She frowned. “My career?”

  “I’ve been watching you and, frankly, I think you’re the backbone behind Paws In Production.”

  “Well, no . . .” She scowled. “It’s Mel’s company. She runs everything.”

  “Ridiculous. You’re perfectly capable. And I want you on my team. Permanently.”

  The man was talking nonsense. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

  “This production company does plenty of work with animals. There’s absolutely no sense in engaging the services of an outside trainer for every show. What I propose is that you give Mel your resignation, and come work for me.”

  “But, but . . .” This was a nightmare. Just the other day, she’d wished for him to like her work, sure. But not at Mel’s expense. “But the animals are all Mel’s.”

  Sadly, that was the best argument she could come up with on the spur of the moment.

  “We’ll buy more. You’ll have a budget. Quite a hefty one, too.”

  “But Mel’s worked so hard for you.”

  “You’ve worked hard for me.” He patted her on the arm. “Just think about it, okay?”

  He left before she could argue anymore. She turned back to face Hale, sure she looked as baffled as she felt. “What the heck is going on?” she asked.

  “He loves you. Why wouldn’t he? You’re wearing the belt.”

  “Yes, but it’s supposed to be about me. It’s not supposed to hurt my friends.”

  He didn’t look particularly sympathetic. “You know what they say . . .” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

  He didn’t need to. She knew what he was thinking. She’d been thinking it herself. Her grandmother’s words, coming back to haunt her. Be careful what you wish for. She sighed. Wasn’t that the truth? Right then, all she really wanted was Hale—and look at all the trouble that wish had caused her.

  Would you leave? You’re making the girl nervous.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Hale said.

  Tracy peered at Elmer. “What’s he saying?”

  “He wants me to leave.” Shooting had ended for the day, and they were in Mrs. Dolittle’s living room. Tracy was working with Elmer to teach him all the various commands he’d need to know for his Hollywood debut.

  “That makes two of us.”

  He frowned, hating the way he cringed inside upon hearing that she didn’t want him there. Not that she should want him around after the way he’d behaved.

  He shrugged. “I’m staying.”

  She matched his shrug. “Suit yourself.” She turned to Elmer, flashing the little guy the very smile Hale had hoped she’d turn on him. “Okay, Elmer, it’s really easy. I tap my fingers like this”—she tapped two fingers on the tabletop—“and you climb up Leon’s sleeve.”

  She tapped, and Elmer climbed up Hale, who was standing in for the obnoxious actor.

  When he reached Hale’s shoulder, Tracy applauded, smiling. “I’ve got to say, it’s going to be a pleasure watching Elmer scale Leon. He doesn’t like ferrets.”

  “Speaking of Leon,” Hale said. “I haven’t seen him around you.”

  Tracy blushed. “Yes, well. I’m pretty much over him.”

  “Good.”

  She didn’t answer, but her cheeks flushed. She nodded toward Elmer, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from who she liked and who she didn’t. “Working with Elmer is going to make me look like the world’s best trainer.”

  “One of the benefits of working with Protector-bred animals.”

  Protector-bred? Excuse me? I don’t think all of the animals affiliated with the Council would do nearly as good a job, thank you very much!

  “Now what’s he saying?”

  “He’s saying it’s not his relationship with us Protectors, but his innate acting skills.”

  She laughed, apparently forgetting that she was mad at him, then turned to scratch Elmer under the chin. “In this case, I think he’s absolutely right.”

  Elmer sighed, his face reflecting pure ferret heaven. I love this woman. You should marry this woman.

  “Now what’s he saying?”

  “That your scratching is perfect,” Hale lied.

  “Well, good.” After a few more scratches, Elmer climbed down.

  What now, sugar?

  “He’s ready for the next trick, I guess?”

  Hale nodded, and they started the routine all over again. Tracy showed Elmer each of the calls and signals she used to get the other animals to behave in a certain way.

  “Stupid ferret tricks,” Hale said, after a few minutes, delighted when she laughed at his lame joke. Elmer looked miffed.

  “Pretty much.” She shot Hale a genuine smile. “I think he’s ready. So long as you’re there, he should do just fine. If he has any questions, you can translate. We’ll just have to make sure it’s not obvious.”

  Knowing he was taking a risk, he took her hand. “Sweetheart, I plan on being there the whole time.”

  Instead of pulling away, she met his eyes, and he saw longing burning there. Along with a hurt that he knew he’d caused.

  “Right there to protect me.”

  When he nodded, she pulled her hand away. It slipped away from his like silk across his skin.

  “That’s what I figured,” she said.

  After a second, she stood up, then planted a little kiss on Elmer’s furry forehead. “I’m heading back to the trailer. Good night Elmer.” A hesitant smile touched her lips as she nodded in his direction. “Night, Hale.”

  And then she was gone, leaving Hale alone on the set with Elmer.

  You’re blowing it big-time
, buddy.

  Hale ignored the ferret. His head knew exactly what he was doing. It was his heart that kept trying to make him mess up. And Hale knew better than to trust his heart.

  25

  Hale tossed and turned in bed and finally gave up. He needed to walk, needed to do something to get her out of his system.

  Cracking his door, he peered out into the hall. No one. Not that he was expecting anyone; Tracy was probably sleeping like a baby. After all, he was the one feeling guilty.

  He was just heading toward the stairs when he heard her, moving through the hall below him. Instantly he de-materialized.

  What he should do was go back into his room, shut the door, and leave her alone. Following her while he was invisible was rude and inconsiderate. Not as rude as what he’d done the last time he’d turned invisible around her—thank Heavens she hadn’t figured that out—but still definitely not high on the politeness scale.

  Unfortunately, what was right was warring with what he wanted, and at the moment how he wanted Tracy! Barring the real thing, however, he’d settle for another look at her. Besides, he was already drowning in guilt. A tiny bit more wouldn’t make a difference.

  Knowing it wasn’t the best justification, but lacking anything better, he headed toward the stairs, ready to follow wherever Tracy might lead.

  The intense quiet of the house had been grating on Tracy’s nerves, keeping her from sleep. She wished for the sound of a television, a washing machine, a marching band. Anything to keep her from her thoughts.

  As it was, she’d tossed and turned for hours thinking about Hale sleeping so close under the same roof.

  How could he sleep?

  She stifled a snort. That was easy. He could sleep because he didn’t care. She was the one who cared and, apparently, caring translated into insomnia. Figuring she had only three options—lie in bed and fantasize about Hale, get up and drive to the ocean, or get up and eat—she’d finally pulled herself up off the bed and padded down the stairs to the kitchen. At three o’clock in the morning, a drive to the ocean would be foolhardy—no matter how much she craved the soothing sound of the surf and the delicious feel of the waves breaking across her toes. Since the beach was out of the question, she settled on the next best thing: milk, cookies, and the warm familiarity of the kitchen.