Hot Alaska Nights

by Lucy Monroe

  After a couple of unintentional detours, she caught up to him in his office. He'd put the tray down on the desk and pulled a second chair around to face his computer, which was open to the film company's IMBD page. So, despite his clear knowledge of the industry public database, Rock hadn't bothered to look her up.

  What did that say about his interest in her? Was it so purely physical, he had no interest in even knowing her filmography?

  Regardless of what form his interest took, his impatient glare said Lydia had not been overstating how little he liked to be kept waiting.

  "What?" Deborah asked. "You can't have been waiting more than a minute." Or two, at the most. Okay, maybe three. She'd run, darn it. And he'd clearly been busy the entire time anyway.

  His brow rose, his expression mocking. "What did you do, go to the living room first?"

  What if she had? And maybe she'd gotten the doorway to his office wrong, too, after realizing it made more sense for him to have come here. So, sue her.

  She'd been paying more attention to him than the layout of his home the day before. "Don't be arrogant. If you didn't want me going to the wrong room, you should have told me where you were headed."

  "I assumed you would follow directly behind me." The smile in his voice belied the irritation his words implied. The man liked to push, and he really did have a bold streak of arrogance.

  She sat down and crossed her legs, gratified when his gaze strayed to the skin revealed and flared with heat. "You assumed wrong."

  "Aren't you supposed to be charming me?" His look was assessing, his focus on her legs making her question her own motives in the decision to wear the borderline flirty black, not-quite-knee-length skirt. She was enjoying his attention way too much, despite her intention not to use the obvious physical attraction between them to convince him to honor the location contract.

  He was right though, darn it. She was supposed to be charming him, or at least making her best effort to convince him. She focused on smoothing the folds of her black A-Line skirt, so she didn't have to look at him. "Yes."

  "So? Charm me." He smirked when she raised her gaze to meet his.

  "Now, you're being an ass." And he wouldn't respect her if she didn't call him on it.

  The increased heat in his sherry brown eyes said he approved her spunk, even as he teased her. "And you are not doing your job."

  "I can play any role you want, but this is me." She indicated herself with a wave of her hand. "More inclined to sarcasm than simpering."

  Her white, crew-necked, short sleeved sweater followed her curves, but didn't cling to them. Her outfit was stylish on a budget and it flattered her figure, but it wasn't anything like LA sexy. She could play "L.A. Vamp" but that wasn't her. For reasons she did not quite understand, herself, she wanted him to like her, Deborah Banes, not a role.

  Rock's mouth opened and closed without a word coming out, his gaze going narrow and then heating. His light brown eyes spoke volumes...about bedroom games and bodies coming together.

  She'd never felt such direct sexual intent from another man and if she had, she was sure she wouldn't have liked it. But her body thrilled to that look, even as she fought to keep any corresponding feeling from showing in her own expression.

  He turned to pour her a glass of water with smooth movements, no tremor brought on by sexual awareness in his hands. No matter what message she'd read in his gaze. If it had been her, she would have been using the action as a diversion so she could gather her thoughts and her composure. She didn't think this man ever needed those kinds of tactics.

  He was way too self-assured.

  He handed her the glass, his gaze boring into hers. "I'm not sure I ever saw my parents out of character."

  Deborah frowned, but had no trouble believing him. "How exhausting." For both his parents and for Rock.

  "Yes."

  "I've met people like that in Hollywood." And it left her feeling disjointed every time.

  His expression turned grim. "More than a few, I bet."

  "Less than you'd expect." Rock Jepsom thought everyone in Hollywood was as fake as the special effects played against a green screen. "And actors aren't the only ones who get lost playing a role. They're just the ones that get paid for it."

  She took a sip of the chilled well water, just as sweet and refreshing as the night before, and wondered if Rock would acknowledge her point. How deeply did his biases go?

  He leaned back and crossed his arms, muscles bulging distractingly even as skepticism lined his features. "You think so?"

  "Oh, come on." She set her glass of water on the desk and leaned forward. "You can't tell me you've never met another businessman who pretends to be something he's not."

  Rock jerked his head in a nod of acknowledgment, but his expression didn't change. "It's not the same."

  "As your parents? Probably not. It wouldn't be as personal for you." Or as painful, but she was sure he would not appreciate her voicing that belief.

  He frowned as he poured his coffee, adding nothing to the dark brew. "You're trying to say my parents were the exception."

  "No, I'm simply saying that they aren't the rule either." Surely a man as intelligent as he was would have realized that by now.

  Only, that didn't seem to be the case.

  "You would say that," he said, proving how deeply his prejudices were entrenched.

  "Because it's true."

  He took a long draw of his coffee, his expression revealing nothing, the silence stretching until he deigned to break it. "One thing I learned before I was old enough to go to school was that actors have a very passing relationship with the truth."

  Ouch. She wasn't going to convince him of her trustworthiness in a single conversation over coffee. She knew that. But it still bothered her to know he had such a low starting point for his assessment of her character. "Some. Just like some businessmen."

  "You're right."

  "I'm surprised you admit it."

  "I'm not an unreasonable man."

  "I don't think Art and Ms. Morganstein would agree with you."

  "I don't like your industry." He spoke without a single shred of apology. "I hate that both my brother and sister seem as enamored of it as our parents were. But even if that were not the case, I would not want a bunch of strangers running around my land for three months. I don't consider that unreasonable."

  "Ten weeks." But she understood his point.

  He was clearly a private man. The gate at the entrance to Jepsom Acres said as much.

  His laugh was singularly lacking in humor. "And when have you ever known filming to run to schedule?"

  "It happens." Particularly when money was tight. "Art is known for a smooth-running production."

  "Is he?"

  "Yes." She would have been happier if Rock looked like he believed her. Even a little. "Listen."

  "Yeah?"

  "I'll make a deal with you."

  "What deal?" he asked, his sherry brown gaze flaring with something she didn't understand in the context. Lust.

  The zing of answering desire in herself was inappropriate under the circumstances, but also beyond her control. The man wanted her and everything between them did nothing to lessen that fact. She couldn't help responding to that. Because she wanted him too.

  But she wouldn’t allow herself to get sidetracked by that desire.

  "I won't assume you're a dishonest businessman who made his fortune on the backs of child labor and destroying other men's companies while stealing their most profitable ideas..." She paused, letting her words sink in.

  By the way his square jaw went as solid as his name and his eyes narrowed, she figured they had.

  She finished, "If you won't assume I'm a liar who spends my entire life living a part."

  "I'm not going to automatically believe everything you say."

  "And I'm not going to assume you're a good man."

  The way he caught his breath and then scowled said he didn't like that at all. "
I am no saint, but I am not a bad man."

  She shrugged. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt if you return the favor."

  He cocked his head to the side, his blond hair cut in a short businessman's cut barely shifting with the movement. "You'd do well in the boardroom."

  "Good to know." Considering the direction she wanted to take her career. She stuck her hand out. "Do we have a deal?"

  He looked at her hand for a full five seconds before taking it and shaking it firmly. "Yes. Deal."

  "Thank you."

  He inclined his head but didn't let go of her hand. "I guess this is where you start into your pitch."

  No way could she concentrate with him holding her hand. It felt too good. And he didn't look like a man about to hear a business proposal either. More like one prepared to make a proposition of the salacious variety.

  More reluctant than she wanted to admit, but determined not to lose sight of her goal, Deborah tugged away from the physical connection. "I know you don't need the money."

  His sexy mouth twisted wryly. "No."

  "And considering your attitude about the film industry, you probably haven't given any real credence to what the movie could bring to Cailkirn as a good thing."

  "So far, you're not making much of a case."

  "But even if you don't like what we do, do you really want to deny all the benefits our being here and this movie could bring to the town?"

  "Like what?" he asked.

  "Like jobs now, increased tourism in the future, and even town pride."

  He managed to surprise her again when he didn't dismiss her claims or express derision for them with his ruggedly handsome features. The man really would have taken Hollywood by storm if he'd followed in his parents' footsteps.

  He had the kind of presence you just couldn't teach in an acting class.

  "Cailkirn isn't short on jobs during the summer," he said mildly.

  She'd read up on the town and discovered it was a cruise ship port. "If not for locals, for others on the peninsula."

  Rock nodded. "You're assuming this film is going to reflect Cailkirn in a positive light."

  "I know it will. The script is fantastic, Rock. It really is."

  "Tell me about it."

  She stared at him, too shocked by the request to answer right away. If she'd been asked, she would have said he was the type of person that eschewed movies and television entirely.

  "I'm not a hermit. I have a television and I take in the occasional movie," he said, reflecting he'd correctly gauged what she'd been thinking.

  Even though he despised the industry that produced them. Maybe Carey was right. Maybe deep down, Rock didn't hate what his parents had been as much as what it had done to their family.

  Relieved in a way she couldn’t define, she said, "Okay."

  "So, are you going to tell me?"

  "Didn't Carey?"

  "No."

  "Why not?" Carey's role was risky for him, but he was really excited about it.

  "I refused to hear anything about the movie on his first visit home in three years."

  Right. Carey had said that, or as much as. And Deborah could understand Rock's viewpoint, even if it made things harder for her. Carey clearly hadn't bothered to tell his older brother about the movie, much less his promise to use Jepsom Acres for the location shoots.

  Shoots that would comprise of more than ninety percent of the filming, both for artistic and budgetary reasons.

  She imagined Rock had been hurt by his brother's long absence from home, as well, though you couldn't tell it by his stoic appearance.

  "Why hasn't he been home? Carey talks about Cailkirn like it is Paradise."

  And there was no way this man had told his brother not to come home like her parents often told Deborah. Rock had made it clear from the moment he answered Carey's page at the gate that he considered his brother welcome in his home.

  If grumpily.

  Rock's face lost all expression, a trick she wouldn't mind learning. "You would have to ask him. He told me he was too busy with his career. Funny thing is, his IMBD credits are almost non-existent."

  "Family can be complicated."

  "Yes, it can."

  "So, the film..." She paused, making sure he really wanted to hear this.

  He made a rolling motion with his hand. "Go on."

  "It's a coming of age and coming out story about two young people who have to break away from their Old Money families' expectations to be who they were meant to be. Both lead roles are rich with subtext and emotional appeal. They start out dating and end up friends closer than siblings. It's an amazing story that will touch audiences in ways they haven't been in a long time." If they did their job right, but she didn't mention that.

  For her, that was a given. It should be for Rock too, considering his brother's aptitude to the craft. If it wasn't, he wasn't going to take it on her say-so.

  "Coming out." Rock frowned. "One of you plays a gay character?"

  "Yes." This could get dicey. Particularly coming from her instead of Carey.

  Rock crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Which one?"

  "Carey," she paused. "But you know that doesn't mean he's gay."

  Rock's look was wry. "Of course not. Plenty of gay people play straight characters and vice versa." The reply had come too quickly, and his tone was too matter-of-fact for it not to be sincere, but when Rock finished speaking, his expression turned thoughtful.

  "Would it matter if he was?" she couldn't help asking.

  "I love my brother, Deborah." Not even a frisson of doubt made it into Rock's tone. "He could become a vegan and start protesting Alaska's fishing industry and I'd still welcome him home with both arms open."

  It probably shouldn't have, especially after seeing them hug the day before, but his claim made her laugh softly. She couldn't help herself.

  At his questioning look, she shrugged helplessly. "I don't see you as the effusive type."

  "You barely know me." But he didn't deny it.

  She could imagine him hugging his siblings after a long absence, but waiting on the front porch with open arms? Not so much. The sentiment was nice though.

  The sudden thought that she could seriously fall for this man wasn't any more welcome than it was avoidable.

  "Anyway, I have no idea if your brother is gay or straight." She wanted to make that perfectly clear. "It's none of my business."

  "Mine either."

  "You keep surprising me," she admitted.

  "I don't know why. Since you don't know me, how can anything I say or do surprise you?" He was so pragmatic.

  But he wasn't shy. "Because you have given some very definitive impressions."

  "Have I?"

  Seriously? It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. "Yes."

  "Like?" He leaned back in his chair and fixed those gorgeous sherry eyes on her.

  "Like you had no intention yesterday morning of even considering allowing us to use your home for the location." He'd made that abundantly clear.

  "I still don't."

  If he was totally opposed to it, she wouldn’t be sitting where she was right now. "I'm not so sure about that."

  He set his coffee cup down and leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, every bit of his overwhelming presence focused on her. "What else did you decide about me?"

  "I thought you were intransigent; now, I think maybe you just don't like being backed into a corner."

  He nodded. "Smart woman. Go on."

  The chairs hadn't seemed so close when she sat down, had they?

  Had he moved closer? The heat from his body filled the space between them. Even though she was still in her own seat, she suddenly felt like their proximity was almost intimate. And the inexplicable desire to act totally out of character and join him in his chair simmered just below the surface of her every thought and breath she took into her body.

  "You want me," she shocked herself by putting it out there, glad she controlled he
r tongue enough not to blurt out that it was mutual. "But that's not why you're going to let the film company use your home for location."

  "You're so sure I'm going to?" He didn't sound angry. Not even a little worried. He sounded curious. He sounded dangerous.

  The situation felt dangerous.

  No, that wasn't right. Not exactly. Her heart was in danger and that shouldn't be possible. Not so soon, but she wasn't physically frightened. The air between them felt charged, though. Her breath was coming fast and shallow, but definitely not because of fear. More like anticipation.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She forced herself to focus on the conversation, not the sexual tension ratcheting up between them by the second. "You said it yourself, you love your brother. You aren't going to allow his career to tank because he made a mistake."

  Even one that was going to cost this man his privacy for more than two months.

  "And what was his mistake?"

  "Signing that contract before talking to you," she replied promptly, no doubt in her voice or thoughts.

  "You're right."

  "He should have called you from LA." She was certain about that one too, and not just because it would have prevented this situation from coming up. Carey had family he could rely on. Rock was as solid as his name implied. Carey should have trusted that.

  Deborah would have given pretty much anything to have a family she could rely on with the same assurance of ultimate acceptance.

  "Yes, but he thought I'd refuse." Rock shook his head. "Carey has always believed it was easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission."

  "It works for some people." That particular approach always felt sneaky and underhand to her, not to mention seriously risky.

  Rock leaned back, his expression turning harsh. "And sometimes it blows up in their faces."

  She'd suspected as much. "I wouldn't know. I've never done things that way." Her life might have been a whole lot simpler if she had.

  Rock ran his hands through his short dark blond hair. "Yeah, me neither."

  They shared a commiserating look that felt more intimate than it should have.