by Nora Roberts
problem. He’s an extraordinarily creative man.”
Swan gave a grunt that might have been agreement and held out his hand for Ryan’s report. Rising, she handed it to him, then took her seat again. He wasn’t in one of his better moods, she noted. Someone had displeased him. She could only be grateful she hadn’t been that someone.
“This is pretty slim,” he commented, scowling at the folder.
“It won’t be by the end of the day.”
“I’ll talk to Atkins myself next week,” Swan stated as he skimmed through the papers. “Coogar’s going to direct.”
“Good, I’d like to work with him. I want Bloomfield on the set design,” she said casually, then held her breath.
Swan glanced up and stared at her. Bloomfield had been his own choice. He’d decided on him less than an hour before. Ryan met the hard look unwaveringly. Swan wasn’t altogether certain if he was pleased or annoyed that his daughter was one step ahead of him. “I’ll consider it,” he said and went back to her report. Quietly, Ryan let out her breath.
“He’ll bring his own music director,” she went on, thinking of Link. “And his own crew and gimmicks. If we have a problem, I’d say it’ll be getting him to cooperate with our people in preproduction and on the set. He has his own way of doing things.”
“That can be dealt with,” Swan muttered. “Ross will be your production coordinator.” Lifting his eyes, he met Ryan’s.
“So I understand.” Ryan met the look equally. “I can’t argue with your choice, but I do feel that if I’m the producer on this project, I should pick my own team.”
“You don’t want to work with Ross?” Swan demanded as if Ned hadn’t been sitting beside her.
“I think Ned and I will deal very well together,” she said mildly. “And I’m sure Coogar knows the camera people he wants. It would be ridiculous to interfere with him. However,” she added with a hint of steel in her voice, “I also know who I want working on this project.”
Swan sat back and puffed for a moment on his cigar. The flush of color in his cheeks warned of temper. “What the hell do you know about producing?” he demanded.
“Enough to produce this special and make it a success,” she replied. “Just as you told me to do a few weeks ago.”
Swan had had time to regret the impulse that had made him agree to Pierce’s terms. “You’re the producer on record,” he told her shortly. “Your name will be on the credits. Just do as you’re told.”
Ryan felt the tremor in her stomach but kept her eyes level. “If you feel that way, pull me now.” She rose slowly. “But if I stay, I’m going to do more than watch my name roll on the credits. I know how this man works, and I know television. If that isn’t enough for you, get someone else.”
“Sit down!” he shouted at her. Ned sank a bit deeper in his own chair, but Ryan remained standing. “Don’t give me ultimatums. I’ve been in this business for forty years,” He banged his palm on the desk. “Forty years! So you know television,” he said scornfully. “Pulling off a live show isn’t like changing a damn contract. I can’t have some hysterical little girl come running to me five minutes before air time telling me there’s an equipment failure.”
Ryan swallowed raw rage and answered coldly. “I’m not a hysterical little girl, and I’ve never come running to you for anything.”
Completely stunned, he stared at her. The twinge of guilt made his anger all the more explosive. “You’re just getting your feet wet,” he snapped as he flipped the folder shut. “And you’re getting them wet because I say so. You’re going to take my advice when I give it to you.”
“Your advice?” Ryan countered. Her eyes glistened with conflicting emotions, but her voice was very firm. “I’ve always respected your advice, but I haven’t heard any here today. Just orders. I don’t want any favors from you.” She turned and headed for the door.
“Ryan!” There was absolute fury in the word. No one but no one walked out on Bennett Swan. “Come back here and sit down. Young lady!” he bellowed when she ignored the command.
“I’m not your young lady,” she returned, spinning back. “I’m your employee.”
Taken aback, he stared at her. What answer could he make to that? He waved his hand at a chair impatiently. “Sit down,” he said again, but she stayed at the door. “Sit, sit,” he repeated with more exasperation than temper.
Ryan came back and calmly took her place.
“Take Ryan’s notes and start working on a budget,” he told Ned.
“Yes, sir.” Grateful for the dismissal, Ned took the folder and retreated. Swan waited for the door to close before he looked back at his daughter.
“What do you want?” he asked her for the first time in his life. The fact occurred to them both at the same moment.
Ryan took time to separate her personal and professional feelings. “The same respect you’d show any other producer.”
“You haven’t got any track record,” he pointed out.
“No,” she agreed. “And I never will if you tie my hands.”
Swan let out a sigh, saw his cigar was dead and dropped it into an ashtray. “The network has a tentative slot, the third Sunday in May, nine to ten east coast time.”
“That only gives us two months.”
He nodded. “They want it before the summer season. How fast can you work?”
Ryan lifted a brow and smiled. “Fast enough. I want Elaine Fisher to guest star.”
Swan narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that all?” he asked dryly.
“No, but it’s a start. She’s talented, beautiful and as popular with women as she is with men. Plus, she’s had experience at working clubs and live theater,” she pointed out as Swan frowned and said nothing. “That guileless, wide-eyed look of hers is the perfect contrast for Pierce.”
“She’s shooting in Chicago.”
“That film wraps next week.” Ryan sent him a calm smile. “And she’s under contract with Swan. If the film goes a week or two over schedule, it won’t matter,” she added as he remained silent. “We won’t need her in California for more than a few days. Pierce carries the show.”
“She has other commitments,” Swan pointed out.
“She’ll fit it in.”
“Call her agent.”
“I will.” Ryan rose again. “I’ll set up a meeting with Coogar and get back to you.” She paused a moment, then on impulse walked around his desk to stand beside his chair. “I’ve watched you work for years,” she began. “I don’t expect you to have the confidence in me you have in yourself of someone with experience. And if I make mistakes, I wouldn’t want them to be overlooked. But if I do a good job, and I’m going to, I want to be sure I did it, not that I just got the credit for it.”
“Your show,” he said simply.
“Yes.” Ryan nodded. “Exactly. There are a lot of reasons why this project is particularly important to me. I can’t promise not to make mistakes, but I can promise you there’s no one else who’ll work harder on it.”
“Don’t let Coogar push you around,” he muttered after a moment. “He likes to drive producers crazy.”
Ryan smiled. “I’ve heard the stories, don’t worry.” She started to leave again, then remembered. After a brief hesitation, she leaned down to brush his cheek with her lips. “Thank you for the earrings. They’re lovely.”
Swan glanced at them. The jeweler had assured his secretary they were an appropriate gift and a good investment. What had he said in the note he had sent with them? he wondered. Chagrined that he couldn’t remember, he decided to ask his secretary for a copy of it.
“Ryan.” Swan took her hand. Seeing her blink in surprise at the gesture, he stared down at his own fingers. He had heard all of her conversation with Ned before he had come into the office. It had angered him, disturbed him, and now, when he saw his daughter stunned that he took her hand, it left him frustrated.
“Did you have a good time in Vegas?” he asked, not knowing what el
se to say.
“Yes.” Uncertain what to do next, Ryan went back to business. “I think it was a smart move. Watching Pierce work up close gave me a good perspective. It’s a much more overall view than a tape. And I got to know the people who work with him. That won’t hurt when they have to work with me.” She gave their joined hands another confused look. Could he be ill? she wondered and glanced quickly at his face. “I’ll—I’ll have a much more concise report for you by tomorrow.”
Swan waited until she was finished. “Ryan, how old were you yesterday?” He watched her closely. Her eyes went from bewildered to bleak.
“Twenty-seven,” she told him flatly.
Twenty-seven! On a long breath, Swan released her hand. “I’ve lost some years somewhere,” he mumbled. “Go set up with Coogar,” he told her and shuffled through the papers on his desk. “Send me a memo after you contact Fisher’s agent.”
“All right.”
Over the top of the papers, Swan watched her walk to the door. When she had left him, he sat back in his chair. He found it staggering to realize he was getting old.
Chapter 12
Producing, Ryan found, kept her as effectively buried in paperwork as contracts had. She spent her days behind her desk, on the phone or in someone else’s office. It was hard, grueling work with little glamour. The hours were long, the problems endless. Yet she found she had a taste for it. She was, after all, her father’s daughter.
Swan hadn’t given her a free hand, but their confrontation on the morning of her return to L.A. had had its benefits. He was listening to her. For the most part she found him surprisingly agreeable to her proposals. He didn’t veto arbitrarily as she had feared he would but altered from time to time. Swan knew the business from every angle. Ryan listened and learned.
Her days were full and chaotic. Her nights were empty. Ryan had known Pierce wouldn’t phone her. It wasn’t his way. He would be down in his workroom, planning, practicing, perfecting. She doubted he would even notice the passing of time.
Of course, she could phone him, Ryan thought as she wandered around her empty apartment. She could invent any number of viable excuses for calling him. There was the change in the taping schedule. That was a valid reason, though she knew he’d already been informed through his agent. And there were at least a dozen minor points they could go over before the meeting the following week.
Ryan glanced thoughtfully at the phone, then shook her head. It wasn’t business that she wanted to discuss with him, and she wouldn’t use it as a smoke screen. Going into the kitchen, she began to prepare herself a light supper.
***
Pierce ran through the water illusion for a third time. It was nearly perfect. But nearly was never good enough. He thought, not for the first time, that the camera’s eye would be infinitely sharper than the human eye. Every time he had watched himself on tape, he had found flaws. It didn’t matter to Pierce that only he knew where to look for them. It only mattered that they were there. He ran through the illusion again.
His workroom was quiet. Though he knew Link was upstairs at the piano, the sound didn’t carry down to him. But he wouldn’t have heard it if they had been in the same room. Critically, he watched himself in a long mirror as water seemed to shimmer in an unsupported tube. The mirror showed him holding it, top and bottom, while it flowed from palm to palm. Water. It was only one of the four elements he intended to command for Ryan’s special.
He thought of the special as hers more than his own. He thought of her when he should have been thinking of his work. With a graceful movement of his hands, Pierce had the water pouring back into a glass pitcher.
He had almost phoned her a dozen times. Once, at three o’clock in the morning, his hand had been on the dial. Just her voice—he had only wanted to hear her voice. He hadn’t completed the call, reminding himself of his vow never to put obligations on anyone. If he phoned, it meant he expected her to be there to answer. Ryan was free to do as she pleased; he had no claim on her. Or on anyone. Even the bird he kept had its cage door open at all times.
There had been no one in his life whom he had belonged to. Social workers had brought rules and compassion, but ultimately he had been just one more name in the file. The law had seen to it that he was properly placed and properly cared for. And the law had kept him bound to two people who didn’t want him but wouldn’t set him free.
Even when he loved—as with Link and Bess—he accepted but demanded no bonds. Perhaps that was why he continued to devise more complicated escapes. Each time he succeeded, it proved no one could be held forever.
Yet he thought of Ryan when he should have been working.
Picking up the handcuffs, Pierce studied them. They had fit cleanly over her wrist. He had held her then. Idly, he snapped one half over his right wrist and toyed with the other, imagining Ryan’s hand locked to his.
Was that what he wanted? he wondered. To lock her to him? He remembered how warm she was, how steeped in her he would become after one touch. Who would be locked to whom? Annoyed, Pierce released himself as swiftly as he had snapped on the cuff.
“Double, double, toil and trouble,” Merlin croaked from his perch.
Amused, Pierce glanced over. “I think you’re quite right,” he murmured, jiggling the cuffs in his hand a moment. “But then, you couldn’t resist her either, could you?”
“Abracadabra.”
“Abracadabra indeed,” Pierce agreed absently. “But who’s bewitched whom?”
***
Ryan was just about to step into the tub when she heard the knock on the door. “Damn!” Irritated by the interruption, she slipped back into her robe and went to answer. Even as she pulled the door open, she was calculating how to get rid of the visitor before her bath water chilled.
“Pierce!”
He saw her eyes widen in surprise. Then, with a mixture of relief and pleasure, he saw the joy. Ryan launched herself into his arms.
“Are you real?” she demanded before her mouth fastened on his. Her hunger shot through him, matching his own. “Five days,” Ryan murmured and clung to him. “Do you know how many hours there are in five days?”
“A hundred and twenty.” Pierce drew her away to smile at her. “We’d better go inside. Your neighbors are finding this very entertaining.”
Ryan pulled him in and shut the door by pressing him back against it. “Kiss me,” she demanded. “Hard. Hard enough for a hundred and twenty hours.”
His mouth came down on hers. She felt the scrape of his teeth against her lips as he groaned and crushed her to him. Pierce struggled to remember his strength and her fragility, but her tongue was probing, her hands were seeking. She was laughing that husky, aroused laugh that drove him wild.
“Oh, you’re real.” Ryan sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re real.”
But are you? he wondered, a little dazed by the kiss.
After one last hug she pulled out of his arms. “What are you doing here, Pierce? I didn’t expect you until Monday or Tuesday.”
“I wanted to see you,” he said simply and lifted his palm to her cheek. “To touch you.”
Ryan caught his hand and pressed the palm to her lips. A fire kindled in the pit of his stomach. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured as her eyes clung to his. “So much. If I had known wishing you here would bring you, I’d have wished harder.”
“I wasn’t certain you’d be free.”
“Pierce,” she said softly and laid her hands on his chest. “Do you really think I want to be with anyone else?”
He stared down at her without speaking, but she felt the increased rate of his heartbeat under her hand. “You interfere with my work,” he said at length.
Puzzled, Ryan tilted her head. “I do? How?”
“You’re in my mind when you shouldn’t be.”
“I’m sorry.” But she smiled, clearly showing she wasn’t. “I’ve been breaking your concentration?”
“Yes.”
&
nbsp; She slid her hands up to his neck. “That’s too bad.” Her voice was mocking and seductive. “What are you going to do about it?”
For an answer, Pierce dragged her to the floor. The movement was so swift, so unexpected, Ryan gasped but the sound was swallowed by his mouth. The robe was whipped from her before she could draw a breath. Pierce took her to the summit so quickly, she was powerless to do anything but answer the desperate mutual need.
His clothes were gone with more speed than was reasonable, but he gave her no time to explore him. In one move Pierce rolled her on top of him, then, lifting her as though she were weightless, he set her down to plunge fully inside her.
Ryan cried out, stunned, exhilarated. The speed had her mind spinning. The heat had her skin drenched. Her eyes grew wide as pleasure went beyond all possibilities. She could see Pierce’s face, damp with passion, eyes closed. She could hear each tearing