“I’m sorry,” she whispered, more upset than she wanted to admit. “I should have realized how those two scenes would connect and…!”
“Stop Evie,” he groaned. He looked around, but there were others in the area, cleaning up from today or setting up for tomorrow. “Let’s get out of here so we can talk.”
She grabbed her bag and walked alongside him. “I have my own car,” she told him.
He shook his head. “I should drive.”
Evie looked at the floor, wanting to laugh but worried she might burst into tears. “I don’t want to leave my car here overnight.”
He smiled faintly, and scanned the parking lot. “You mean you don’t want anyone else to see you driving away with me while your car stays here overnight.” It wasn’t a question. And he was right on target.
“That had crossed my mind,” she admitted. “So, how about that cute little salad shop by my house? I need some nutrition today and pasta for dinner isn’t going to cut it if I’m going to fit into that slinky beaded thing that Tina found for the gala scene next week.”
He chuckled. “Okay, fine. I know the place. I’ll meet you at your house in thirty minutes.”
Chapter 8
Evie laughed when she heard the doorbell ring. “I’m going to give you your own key!” she hollered as she padded barefoot towards the door.
But when the door swung open, it wasn’t Brock on the other side. A beautiful woman with flaming red hair stood there beside a tall, muscular man who looked like he belonged on a horse instead of in the ultra-urban environment that was Los Angeles.
“Oh!” she jerked back, startled. “I’m so sorry. I was…!”
The redhead smiled understandingly. “You were expecting someone else. I understand.” She extended her hand, holding out a business card to Evie. “I’m Frankie Win…uh,” she glanced over her shoulder at the tall, ruggedly handsome man. “Sorry, Frankie Wilson,” she corrected. “That business card still has my maiden name on it. I was married about a month ago and I haven’t had time to change it yet.”
There was a small growl and Evie looked up from the card in time to realize that it was the man behind her who had made the sound.
The petite redhead continued as if nothing had happened. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got your address from a friend of a friend. I realize that I’m imposing on your evening, but if you could just give me five minutes of your time, I will get out of your way.”
Evie eyed the woman, wary of strangers in her house. “Hold on a moment,” she said, and grabbed her cell phone, stuffing it into her back pocket. “Let’s talk outside.”
The man immediately backed up and moved further away. Was he giving them privacy? But he looked at her strangely, his eyes pausing over each of her features. The look felt as if he might know her somehow, but he couldn’t quite place their previous acquaintance.
Evie stared back at the man, but she was very was sure that couldn’t be the case. She’d never met him before and he was the type of man one didn’t forget. He was tall enough and handsome enough that she would have remembered. Plus, he had an energy about him that whispered he could be dangerous if crossed.
And yet…there was definitely something familiar about him.
Turning away from the cowboy, Evie focused her attention on the redhead. “Okay, I’m listening.”
The woman smiled, shifting on her feet. “You’re nervous, but I assure you that you’re not in any kind of danger. I only have a question.”
“Go on,” Evie replied, impatient to get rid of these two people. The more she looked at the man, the more familiar he seemed.
“Your agent probably explained that I’m a private investigator.” The man cleared his throat firmly and the woman smiled. “My husband just made a rude sound letting me know that I once again need to correct myself.” Both of them glanced over Evie’s shoulder to find the man standing with his arms crossed in a very arrogant manner. “I used to be a private investigator,” she corrected, then glanced at the tall man again for his approval. “And my last client hired me to find his children.”
Evie suspected that she knew where this was going and her body turned cold as fury welled up inside of her.
Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest…then glanced at the man again. Their body language was identical, which seemed weird. She tried to shake off the sensation that the man was important. “If this is about Edward Meyers, then I can stop you right there.”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “You know about Edward Meyers?”
“Yes. I’ve heard of him. But he’s no relation to me.”
The woman’s mouth formed an O of surprise. It took her several moments to continue. “Okay, well, I was just...” She stopped, shaking her head bemusedly. “I’m sorry. I thought that…” she blinked again, then looked down at her boots. “I was so sure!” she muttered, almost as if she were speaking to herself.
“If that’s all?” Evie asked. She saw Brock’s car coming around the curve. He’d be at her house in a moment and Evie wanted these two gone before he arrived.
Frankie hesitated for another moment, then pulled herself together. “No, but thank you for your time and I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
With that, she turned and, with her husband’s hand on her back, returned to their car. Evie watched them talking animatedly in the vehicle. But as soon as Brock parked next to them, the man said something to the woman who peered through the window and nodded. A moment later, they backed up and drove away.
Brock watched the vehicle and the occupants as he drove down the driveway. When he stepped out of the car, Evie had gone back inside but the front door was wide open. He grabbed the bag containing salads and headed into the house.
“Evie?” When there was no answer, he peeked out at the back patio. She wasn’t there either.
He turned back around and headed inside, setting the paper bag on the counter. “Evie?” he called out again.
Nothing.
Where the hell was she?
Then he heard something. It was soft and barely distinguishable, but he followed the sound, heading down stairs. When he saw her, she was punching a large, heavy bag that hung from the ceiling. Boxing? Evie liked to box? That was surprising.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t wearing boxing gloves. Even as he watched, she pounded her fists against the bag, harder and harder. Obviously, something had really bothered her. The visitors? They’d looked nice enough. The guy had seemed slightly familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on how.
“Evie?” he called out, moving closer. He noticed her knuckles then. She’d been punching so hard, they were scraped up and swollen. “Hey!” he said again, catching her hands before she could do more damage. She swung around and glared up at him, eyes so full of rage she barely seemed to recognize him.
“Hey, honey, what happened?”
She blinked, but it still took her several moments to come back to the present.
“Nothing,” she told him. “I’m just really hungry.”
She turned and walked up the stairs again, glancing over her shoulder when she realized that he wasn’t following. “I’m okay,” she told him and added a smile this time. He still wasn’t convinced, but he also understood that she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Hey,” he said softly, moving up behind her. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He moved closer, pulling her in and rubbing soothing hands along her arms. He knew that he shouldn’t do it. They’d just gotten their footing back on their “friendship”. But as he held her, Brock realized that she was trembling. With anger? With sadness? From withdrawal?
No! He refused to believe that Evie was doing drugs of any kind. She’d proven over and over that she wasn’t like that. He’d been wrong about her. Everyone had been wrong.
He kissed the top of her head. “You don’t need to talk about it,” he told her and he felt her press against him more firmly. In fact, she turned around and buried her face in his che
st. He pulled her closer, just holding her for several minutes. During that time, Brock had to stop himself from thinking how perfectly she fit in his arms. How soft and wonderful.
Friends, he reminded himself firmly. They were just friends. Nothing more.
If he had the sudden urge to kiss her, to soothe her anger by making love to her, well, that was just wrong. Friends didn’t do that.
She breathed in deeply, then slowly pulled out of his arms. “I’m fine now,” she assured him, tucking her hair behind her ears and pasting on a smile. Those beautiful, silver eyes of hers were swimming with tears, but she managed to hold them off. Barely.
“What did you bring for dinner?” She asked.
“Are you going to tell me who those people were?”
She shook her head and headed inside, peering into the bag on the table. “Someone Jerry wanted me to talk to, but turns out, the woman was wrong. I’m not who she is looking for.”
That somehow left him with more questions. Brock noticed the nervous way she pulled out the containers of food, lining them up into a tidy, straight line before taking out forks. She then lined those forks up very carefully on each salad container, almost as if her life depended on her getting them perfectly straight.
“Evie, talk to me. What just happened?”
She turned her features and looked up at him. “Would you mind very much if we just…ate dinner?”
He considered her request for a moment, then nodded sharply. Eating would probably help her calm down. “Fine. But will you tell me about whatever is bothering you eventually?”
She sighed, relief obvious in those silver depths. “Yes. Eventually. I just…I need to work this out in my mind.”
“Okay. I’ll let it go for now.” But he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her forehead again. This time, she leaned into the gesture and, for some reason that soothed him. Whatever was bothering her, it couldn’t be too horrible if she was leaning on him. Although that made absolutely no sense.
“What if we change the next scene so that you’re tickling the guy to death?” Brock suggested.
Evie snorted. For the past two hours, they’d been going over her lines and he’d offered up the most outrageous suggestions. “Tickling?” she echoed. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“Oh yeah it’s a thing. In fact, it’s a whole fetish. There are people out there who love to be tickled. It turns them on.”
She laughed even harder, struggling to breathe through her hilarity. “No!” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “I don’t believe it! That’s totally not a thing.”
“It is,” he assured her. “Sex is complicated and there are people who get off on things that we can’t even imagine.”
She laughed again, then sighed, leaning back in her chair. “You’re making that up.”
“Not making it up,” he argued. “But would you believe me if I told you that ducks have spiral penises?”
Evie stared at him, eyes huge, then she burst out laughing again, shaking her head. “NO!”
“It’s true. In fact, men might even be a bit jealous of the duck penis. While ours is only about seven to nine inches long, a duck’s penis can be up to seventeen inches. And yes, it is spiral shaped.”
Evie rolled to her side, laughing as the tears once again rolled down her eyes. “No. That can’t be true.”
“It is. Can you image that duck in the Saturday morning cartoons with a spiral penis? I mean, the rabbit and the other character, I can’t remember what animal it was, would have died if the duck’s thing ever came out.”
Evie wrapped her arms around her stomach, gasping for air. “Stop!” she gasped. “I can’t take anymore.
He chuckled softly. “Oh, don’t even go there. I have so many more weird sexual factoids about the animal kingdom. The things I know would haunt your dreams.”
Evie’s laughter slowly died as she gazed across the expanse of the small, gas fire between them. “I…um…” she stopped. Words failed her because her dreams were already filled with sexual issues. Not from the animal kingdom though. Nope, there were no spiral penises or seventeen inch penises in her dreams. Just one… “Um…did you just say nine inches?” she blurted. Then realized what she’d just asked. “Don’t answer that!” she gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth as her cheeks burned scarlet. “That was completely inappropriate! I am not asking you how…uh…long yours is!”
Brock cracked up at her horrified expression. “I’m not answering that last question. You’ll just have to find out…” he trailed off and Evie’s laughter died as they both realized where his comment was heading.
The words hung in the air. Finally, Brock muttered a curse and moved to the other side of the fire. He reached for her and…Evie met him halfway.
Then there was no more laughter. No more conversation. There were only gasps and sighs as Brock kissed her. Evie didn’t pull back, she didn’t hide. This passion was too intense to ignore.
Brock carried her down the hallway, kissing her every step of the way. But they didn’t make it to her bedroom. Evie was already tugging at his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. Her tee shirt had vanished somewhere between the patio and the kitchen, she wasn’t sure where. All she was aware of were his kisses, and his hands exploring her body, sliding over her skin, cupping her breasts. Then she realized that he hadn’t taken off her bra and she angrily reached behind her and unlatched the clasp. When her breasts were finally free, she took his hands and placed them on her breasts, sighing with relief as she felt the heat from his hands.
Unfortunately, her relief was short lived. His thumbs brushed over her taut nipples, back and forth. With every brush, she lost a little more of her sanity, but because he was kissing her, she couldn’t tell him to stop. Besides, she didn’t actually want him to stop.
Feeling his hot skin, the rippling muscles under her hands were intoxicating. With every movement, she could feel those muscles rippling and her hands followed every movement, and she groaned as he lifted her into his arms again.
This time, they made it to the door of her bedroom but he pinned her against the wall, pressing her there while he pushed her pants down. And since he was there, he pulled her leg over his shoulder and drove her wild with his lips and his fingers. Oh dear heaven, that tongue! Seriously, who needed a seventeen inch penis when his tongue could do that!
She was screaming his name even as her legs gave out. Her bed was too far away and she melted into his arms. The floor seemed like a perfectly acceptable place and she sighed when she felt his lips tease her throat, nibbling and teasing.
She heard something rip, then his knuckles were there, teasing her core, making her gasp and writhe.
“Don’t move,” he whispered roughly into her ear. She felt him settle against her, and arched her back as he pressed into her heat. Immediately, her legs lifted and her hips tilted so that she could take him deeper into her body.
“You moved,” he groaned, nipping her ear. But she couldn’t handle more teasing and drew her nails lightly down his back before cupping his rock hard butt, silently urging him to go deeper.
When he did so, she smiled. But the smile only lasted for a moment. The friction of his entry was so wonderful, sending darts of desire through her.
“Tell me if I hurt you, Evie,” he murmured as he began to move. He thrust into her, faster and faster and she floated on a wave of pleasure so intense, she nearly forgot how to breathe. But Evie didn’t care. She was safe. Safe in Brock’s arms and it was all pure heaven. Vaguely, she knew that he found his own release, but she was too limp after her own climax to do anything to help make it better.
A long time later, she felt him stand up. Evie knew that the floor was hard and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t quite find the strength to get up and move to the bed. So, when Brock scooped her up, she curled closer, snuggling against his neck. When he placed her into the bed and pulled the sheets over both of them, Evie decided that this night had been absolutely perfect!
<
br /> “Thank you!” she whispered as she drifted off to sleep, securely wrapped in his arms.
Chapter 9
Evie walked onto the sound stage the following morning, unsure about how she felt. She’d woken up alone in her bed, but she vaguely remembered Brock leaving her with a kiss goodnight. That had been nice, but Evie simply wasn’t experienced enough in the ways of lovers. She would have felt better if he’d been with her this morning.
Stepping carefully over the wires and hoses, she made her way to Heather’s makeup table.
“Hey girl!” Heather greeted her. “What’s wrong?”
Evie sighed, dumping her bag on the floor beside Heather’s chair. “Eh. Just…tired,” she mumbled, choosing her words carefully.
“Yeah, yesterday seemed pretty rough.” Heather started working her magic, hiding the dark circles under Evie’s eyes. If Brock had been with her this morning, she might not feel so…down. No, that wasn’t the right word for how she was feeling. Confused? Yep. Angry? No, not really angry. Hurt. Yes, that was the right word. She felt hurt.
Monty called out Brock’s name and Evie heard Brock’s voice respond, but because she was sitting still as Heather worked on makeup, she couldn’t look around. Couldn’t even move!
She listened as Brock answered Monty’s question, then the voices faded away.
“Goodness, that man is beautiful!” Heather whispered, quickly tracing dark liner along Evie’s lids. “I wonder what he is like in the sack!”
Evie stiffened, jealousy bristling along her skin. Was Heather talking about Brock? Or Monty? Surely the lovely makeup artist wasn’t interested in Brock! Oh, please don’t let Heather be interested in Brock! She’d had only one night with the man! Surely she’d get more, wouldn’t she? Please don’t let him be bored with her already!
That’s when the anger settled over her. Yes, she was jealous. Not to mention hurt and confused. All of which could have been avoided if Brock had only stayed in her bed, or at least remained at her house until she’d woken up. They could have talked about it. They could have discussed what would happen going forward!
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