She dozed off.
She was awakened by the touch of a hand on her shoulder. She raised her head sleepily, thinking Tom had returned, and she looked directly into a pair of hazel eyes.
Natalie jerked upright with a gasp. Kirk’s face was inches away.
He put some more suntan lotion in the palm of his hand and continued to smooth it into her shoulder. He said, “You’re going to get a heck of a burn. Don’t you know you can’t lie out here in the summer sun without some protection?”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Well, at the moment, I’m trying to keep you from turning red as a lobster.”
“How did you know I was out here?”
“I didn’t come looking for you if that’s what you mean. I was strolling along the beach and saw you coming out of the water like a sea nymph. A lovely sea nymph, I might add.” His teeth flashed white in a lean grin.
She jerked away from him. “I don’t need your ministrations. If I want to get a sunburn that’s my business.”
“Not entirely. You can get sick from too much sun and cost us several days of shooting.”
“That’s all you care about, isn’t it, Kirk Trammer?” she fumed. “I could die of sunstroke and you wouldn’t give a hang so long as it didn’t interfere with your precious shooting schedule.”
“My, aren’t we in a friendly mood this morning.”
“Whatever makes you think we’re friends?”
His hazel eyes gave her a long, contemplative look. “Why should we be enemies?”
“Plenty of reasons. I don’t think I need to list them.”
He continued to gaze directly into her eyes with a strange, dark expression that was disconcerting. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Then, she nervously changed the subject. “Kirk, it was absolutely rotten of you to chew me out in front of the entire set over the way I’m handling my role. I’m furious with you for doing that.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to humiliate you. But it’s for your own good, Natalie.”
“I don’t need you telling me what’s for my own good. I think you’re dead wrong about the way I’m handling the part of Rebecca Abrahms. In spite of her background, the woman has class. You want me to rob her of that.”
“No. I want you to make her more believable.”
“That’s only your opinion. I know my job, Kirk.”
“I didn’t say you don’t. Anyway, this argument is getting us nowhere. Why don’t you shut up and let me put some of this lotion on your back before you turn into a lobster?”
“Go put it on Marsha Sanders’s back!”
“Oh, now I’m getting the real picture of why you’re so mad. It really isn’t the argument about the role in the movie. It’s Marsha. You’re jealous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. But you could be a little more discreet. If you must bring your mistress along, you don’t have to humiliate me by carrying on with her in front of the whole cast.”
“Who says she’s my mistress?”
“Don’t make me out to be a fool, Kirk. It’s obvious to the whole world.”
“Well, it was pretty obvious to the world what you and Tom Sacks are up to,” he said grimly. “I saw you kissing him out in the water.”
“Then you were spying on me!” She gasped.
“No. I told you, I was walking along the beach. I just happened to see you. It doesn’t matter. You’re free to do what you want. Only don’t go making cracks about Marsha and me when you’re having a fling with Tom Sacks.”
“I’m not having a ‘fling’ with anybody. Tom and I are just friends. That kiss meant nothing.”
Why was she defending herself, she asked herself furiously. She didn’t have to explain her actions to Kirk.
Anyway, she doubted that he believed her.
His palm, feeling warm and moist, moved in a steady, rotating motion over her shoulders and neck.
She closed her eyes, fighting the tingling warmth of nerve ends under his touch. His broad, strong hand moved lower, to her shoulder blades. An involuntary shudder ran through her body. Her voice was slightly thick as she muttered, “That’s enough. You can stop now.”
“No, you’re still exposing a lot of bare skin to the sun. You need more of this sun-block. Stretch out on your tummy and relax.”
She hated herself for meekly obeying but the will to resist was melting as if being drained by the soothing touch of his moving hand. She turned onto her stomach, nestling her face against the back of her hand, rationalizing that she could suffer a dangerous sunburn if her skin were unprotected.
She murmured an objection when he unfastened the strap of her halter top, but her voice seemed weak and faraway. With her back uncovered, he smoothed the lotion from her neck down to the base of her spine. His hands were confident, exploring familiar territory. The thought of how well those hands knew her body made her face grow hot. Her body became limp under the massaging application of the lotion.
Why was she allowing him to do this? He wasn’t just applying a coat of sun-block. He was turning his task into a seductive massage that was making her drowsy and vulnerable. She became dreamily conscious of the sights and sounds around her as if they reached her senses through a soft haze.
She felt the grains of sand, gently gritty under her stomach and thighs. Above them a sea bird swooped and called. The sound of children’s voices raised in a game of tag mingled with the swish of the surf. A beach vendor trudging by was calling his sales pitch, crying, in Portuguese, “Alo, alo. Tomando limonada,” assuring all the women on the beach that if they drank his lemonade they would become beautiful. A radio under a nearby beach umbrella was playing a familiar song of Rio, Garota de Ipanema— “Girl from Ipanema.”
Mostly she was aware of Kirk’s presence, his nearness. He was kneeling beside her, his strong leg inches from her face. Opening her eyes, she could see the curling brown hair on his bare thigh, the masculine texture of his skin. She bit her lip, struggling to quiet the waves of desire that stirred deep within her, beginning to radiate through her entire body. She was furious with herself. How could she still experience the reawakening of old passions, knowing how utterly selfish Kirk was? Why did she have to remind herself over and over that his only interest in her was using her to get studio backing for this picture?
His palm, hard yet gentle, rippled over her back, sometimes in circles, sometimes moving slowly up and down her spine. The warmth of the sun, the rhythm of the surf, the caressing massage of Kirk’s hand conspired to put her in a trance.
Unbidden memories were creeping into her thoughts, scenes of the past with Kirk, a time in Mexico, a hotel room in Acapulco, sea breezes stirring the curtains at an open window, Kirk giving her a massage, starting with her back until waves of heat were coursing through her body and she turned over, raising her arms and his lips crushed hers and their bodies became one, closer...closer...closer.
* * * * * * *
It was a daydream that made her stretch languorously like a kitten, warm and lazy in the sun. Then the sound of Kirk’s voice brought her back to the present.
“A strange and beautiful city,” Kirk murmured, gazing around as he applied the suntan lotion. “I was reading up on its history. Captain Gonçalves entered Guanabara Bay on the first of January in 1502. He thought he’d found a great river and that’s how the city got its name, Rio de Janeiro, the River of January.”
His gaze lifted to the towering mountains behind and above the city, dark green with tangled jungle growth. The hazel color of his eyes became more intense. “Back there, in the mountains—that’s where we’re going to shoot the Central American revolutionary scenes. The setting is perfect. The topography is the same as Central America. All South American jungles look alike to a movie audience.”
Natalie’s drowsy, half-somnolent state dissolved. She frowned, coming totally awake with a start. “What are you talking about?”
“I was up there late yesterday. It’s onl
y an hour away by ‘copter. I’ve signed the lease for the location. Mountains, jungle trails, a waterfall. It’s fabulous.”
Natalie sat up, clutching her halter top. “Are you out of your mind? There’s nothing in the script about any jungle scene. After the Carnival we’re scheduled to fly to Tunisia.”
“I just changed the schedule. This is too good to pass up. I don’t know how we could have overlooked something like this when we were working on the script. It’s obvious, isn’t it, that this kind of international intrigue would include the conflict going on in Central America? It would be totally logical for the heroine in the story to go from Rio to Central America. We can develop some great action stuff—jeep chase scenes through the brush, a guerrilla shoot-out in a village, the hero and heroine being shot at in the jungle, escaping over the waterfall....”
Natalie felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Jeeps—villages...Kirk, where are you going to get those kinds of props?”
“The lease area includes a deserted village. We can fly some jeeps up there by helicopter.”
“But you’re talking about taking a whole army of extras up there! To say nothing of the guns, the explosives—”
“Right. We’ll need to take Ginny Wells temporarily off the space sets she’s building in Los Angeles and fly her down here to handle the effects. We’re going to need some stunt people, too. I don’t think you’re going to want to go over a cliff and into a waterfall. I know Tom Sacks doesn’t want to. Might mess up his gorgeous profile.” He chuckled dryly.
Natalie was staring at him, wide-eyed. She felt a torrent of emotions churning inside her and was dismayed at the cost this extra shooting was going to involve. Yet it was impossible to ignore the excitement Kirk could generate. It was as if his surge of enthusiasm set off electric shock waves in the air that radiated into her being, shooting sparks through her nerve ends.
She felt herself tremble both from apprehension and excitement. “Kirk, the studio won’t stand for the extra expense. You’re going to blow the budget before you’re halfway through the film. This is exactly the kind of thing Sam Kasserman was afraid of.”
“Hang Sam Kasserman,” Kirk muttered. “He’s not making this film.”
“It’s the studio’s money, and he’s responsible.”
Kirk dismissed that with an impatient hand gesture. “He’ll get it back many times over. This motion picture is going to be the biggest money-maker of the year.”
Natalie shook her head, at a loss to know what to say. She knew when Kirk made up his mind about something like this nothing would change it.
Then Kirk said, “First we have to deal with the Carnival sequence and the scenes aboard the yacht. I want you to have dinner with me on the yacht tonight.”
She was instantly on guard. “Why?”
“I want you to meet the owner, for one thing. He’s a big fan of yours. You know the type. Corporation president. All titillated by the chance to meet Hollywood stars firsthand. That’s why he’s practically giving us the yacht to use.”
“I see,” Natalie retorted angrily. “I’m being useful again for you to get what you want.”
“Don’t get on your high horse. You’ll enjoy it. Great dinner. He’s got a French chef on board. Beautiful view. Give you a chance to familiarize yourself with the setting.”
“All right,” she said coldly. “As long as it’s strictly business. That’s the only kind of dealings I want to have with you, Kirk Trammer!”
Angrily she reached back and fastened her halter. She jumped up and ran into the surf to get away from him. She swam furiously and after a while, looked back. Kirk was gone.
CHAPTER TEN
From the eighty-foot luxury yacht, Allegretto, gently swaying in the harbor, the view was breathtaking. Across the bay, the lights of the city twinkled like a great ring of diamonds. High in the background at the 2,307-foot peak of Mount Corcovado, the great statue of Christ illuminated by floodlights had been reduced to a miniature at a distance. A mist had settled over the mountaintops creating an unearthly translucent glow around the statue, giving the eerie impression that it floated in space.
The evening was warm and sultry. Natalie had dressed appropriately in a filmy evening formal that left her shoulders bare. When Kirk picked her up at the hotel, he had surprised her by appearing in a white dinner jacket.
“Where did you get that dinner jacket?” she asked.
“What’s the matter? Doesn’t it fit?”
“It fits fine. It’s just that I so rarely see you in anything but faded jeans, boots and that old rumpled jacket of yours that the transformation into formal wear is something of a shock.”
“Well, I rented it if you must know. I thought the occasion called for something more formal. It isn’t every night we get to have dinner on a millionaire’s yacht.”
Natalie tried to limit her gaze, but it was hard not to look at him. Living on the beach at Malibu had given him a golden tan that had been refreshed by the midsummer sun here in Rio. It created a dashing, handsome contrast to the white jacket. The deep tan made his hazel eyes appear to be a lighter golden brown. Only his bushy hair was the same as usual, rebelliously defying any attempt at being combed.
Uneasily, she looked away and maintained a cool silence on the way to the docks. There they were met by the yacht’s crew members, helped into a tender and swept out to the anchored yacht where they were greeted by another crew member, escorted to deck chairs and served cocktails.
Natalie had the sensation of being on a romantic movie set. She was surrounded by the luxurious gleam of polished brass and the soft patina of rich mahogany and teak. A gentle sea breeze wafted across the deck, caressing her cheeks and teasing a strand of her hair. She thought that the owner of such a beautiful craft had to be enormously wealthy.
“When do I meet the owner?” Natalie asked.
Kirk sipped his highball. “I forgot to tell you. He phoned late this afternoon. Had to grab a flight back to New York. Some kind of corporate crisis. But he insisted that we come on out anyway since he already had the dinner planned.”
Her eyes narrowed. A protest was rising to her lips, but they were interrupted by a waiter beginning to serve their meal.
From the sterling silver to fine china and crystal, the standard of luxury and exquisite taste was maintained. Kirk hadn’t exaggerated about the French chef. The meal began with sherry, consommé à la royale and pâté maison. There was a flaming entrée, crêpes and vintage champagne.
Romantic dinner music floated on the evening air from deck speakers. Natalie ate slowly, savoring the rich exquisite flavors, the delicious champagne.
After the meal, Kirk took her on a tour of the vessel. There was a piano in a lounge where he took a seat, his fingers rippling an arpeggio over the keys, then settling into the rich chords of a romantic ballad. Natalie settled into a plush chair, sipping her champagne, closing her eyes as the melody Kirk was playing reached tender spots in her emotions. For reasons she couldn’t define, she felt close to tears.
Kirk played for a while, then they strolled out on deck again and leaned on the rail, gazing across the water at the romantic city of Rio. She was acutely conscious of Kirk’s broad shoulder touching hers. A warning voice inside told her she shouldn’t be here, but it was faint and too easily ignored.
She was aware of Kirk’s gaze. She suddenly felt the need to take a deep breath. Kirk’s strong, tanned hand reached for hers. Gently, he turned her to face him.
“Kirk, don’t start this,” she said, swallowing hard.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s only going to wind up making us both miserable. It’s over between us, Kirk. I told you I was going to do this picture with you, but it would be strictly business.”
He touched her chin, lifting her face so she had to meet his steady gaze. “Are you sure you want to keep it strictly business?”
He had pulled her closer so their bodies were touching. She felt his warmth thro
ugh the thin fabric of her gown. When she breathed, her breasts were against his chest. She felt the touch of their thighs, the brush of her waist against his. “Yes...strictly business...,” she said weakly.
“I don’t believe you.”
“All right,” she whispered angrily. “You get me out here in this romantic setting...the food, the wine...the music.... How do you expect me to react?”
A half smile tugged at his lips. “Just the way you’re reacting now. Natalie, we’ve made love too often for me not to know your moods. Right now you want me just the way I want you.”
Tears blurred her vision. “I should never have come out here with you tonight. You tricked me. Kirk, you’re always doing that to me. You’re smarter than I am. I’m such a darn patsy! I bet you knew on the beach this morning that your millionaire buddy wasn’t going to be here tonight. I bet you cooked this whole scene up with him.”
Kirk shook his head, looking innocent, but she didn’t believe him.
He bent and his lips brushed hers, bringing a whimper from her throat. His lips touched hers again and again, growing bolder each time. He pulled her closer. The warmth of his body against hers became a flaming torch.
His palms were mashed against her back, molding her body to his. The crew member had cleared away the dinner dishes and discreetly disappeared somewhere below. They were completely alone here.
Kirk’s kisses trailed from her lips to her bare shoulders. She began trembling. Then Kirk scooped her up and carried her to a secluded lounge under a canopy on the deck. He nestled there with her, cuddling her, kissing and caressing her. Natalie was breathing hard, consumed by an awakened desire that had become overpowering. Too well her body remembered the passion she had shared with Kirk in the past. The memory of sensation piled on sensation, of fiery caresses and engulfing fulfillment, turned her into a limp victim.
With practiced fingers that had traveled this course many times before, he pulled down the zipper of her dress and unfastened her bra. She gasped as his lips found the hollow between her breasts and his cheek, rough with a faint masculine stubble, brushed the tender creamy skin.
The Movie Page 13