With everyone in place, the assistant director yelled, “Roll it,” and the rest of the directions fell on deaf ears. Zane was in the zone. He’d become his character, and at the sound of the clapper, he spurred into action. Or rather, slow motion, given that action in this movie moved at a snail’s pace.
Remi stood by the lake with her back to him. Her short black dress hung loosely from her thin frame. In the scene, they’d just come from the funeral of her father, who had been murdered, and Zane, the private investigator her family had hired—and her past lover—was comforting her. He’d mastered the confident yet careful gait and the tender cadence of his voice the scene called for. She turned as he approached, sunlight reflecting in her damp eyes. Her trembling lips and fidgeting, nervous hands perfectly relayed her devastation. But as he reached for her hand and she collapsed against him, he felt his body tense up and worked hard to fix it, but she felt wrong. She wasn’t Willow. And now he was screwed. His mind reeled as he tried like hell to get his head back into the scene.
“I will stop at nothing to catch the people who did this, Cora. I promise you I will put them away.” Okay, cool. That was solid.
“Bob,” she said breathlessly.
He lowered his mouth to hers, and the second their lips touched, he tensed up again. Motherfucker.
“Cut!”
“It’s not you,” he said as quickly as he could, knowing Remi would think she’d somehow caused his screwup. “I mind-fucked myself. Sorry.” He raked a hand through his hair, not caring that makeup would have to fix it, and waved to Steve.
“I’ve got this. Sorry,” he called to Steve, but his insides were in a full-on battle. He’d kissed more women than he could count, and never had he freaking fucked up. He forced himself not to look at Willow, but that didn’t block the heat of her gaze from boring into him. He didn’t want to know what was going through her mind.
The makeup team fixed his hair and Remi’s lipstick, and they went through the motions again. Three times.
Holy hell.
The easiest scene of them all, and he was acting like this was his first time filming. Steve called Patch over and said something Zane couldn’t hear, but Patch’s pinched look wasn’t good. He stalked over to Willow with his head down, took her by the elbow, and began escorting her away.
“Oh, hell no!” Willow’s voice called the attention of every person on set as she broke away from Patch and stormed past the camera crew.
Wills, what are you doing? His eyes darted to Steve, who rose from his chair with a pissed-off look in his eyes. Zane held up a hand in his direction and strode toward Willow.
“Baby, what are you—”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she said through gritted teeth.
Shocked, he was at a loss for words.
She stepped closer. “I’m afraid to touch you because of makeup and wardrobe and all that, but if I could, I’d grab you by the collar and shake you.” Her eyes dialed down to warm determination. “Z, if anyone knows how to kiss the hell out of a woman, it’s you. What’s going on? Do you really need me to leave the set? You’re a professional, and I don’t need or want you to be anything less.”
“Wills, she’s not you, and it’s fucking with my head.” He felt the eyes of the cast and crew watching their every move.
“Then unfuck it, because I believe in you, and don’t you dare let me or anyone else down. Do you hear me?”
He chuckled, but there was no denying the mental click inside his head. She was absolutely right. “Yeah, baby. I hear you loud and clear.”
“Good, now go kiss her like she’s never been kissed before, and if you screw this up”—she stepped closer and whispered—“you’ll never find out the dirty surprise I have in store for you.” She spun on her heel and strutted away.
The whole damn peanut gallery applauded.
Steve waved a hand as if to say, Go to it.
And Zane did just that. This time when he took Remi into his arms, he kissed her until she went limp in his arms, and when Steve yelled, “Cut!” it was Willow’s eyes he found.
She mouthed, I’m so proud of you, and he mouthed, Dirty surprise, earning the sexiest blush he’d ever seen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LATER THAT NIGHT Zane locked the door to Willow’s apartment and followed her down the back steps. He was relieved that filming was over, at least for now. Most of the cast and crew had taken off as soon as filming had wrapped for the day, but they were meeting Remi and her brother, Aiden, along with Bridgette and Ben—who Willow insisted had to meet them—for dinner at Tasker’s Chance, an upscale restaurant on the edge of town. They were running a little late because Willow had gotten stuck at the bakery taking care of loose ends before leaving town tomorrow morning.
“Can we take Chloe?” Willow dangled her keys from her finger, looking hot in her skimpy black dress and sky-high heels. Her lips were painted an enticing shade of red, and her eyes were smoky and alluring.
“You sure you don’t want to take my rental? You might be more comfortable.”
She shook her head. “Nope. Chloe’s perfectly comfortable.”
He opened the passenger door, and she settled into her seat. Her dress crept up her gorgeous thighs, and she primly leaned both knees to the side and smiled up at him.
“You look stunning in that little number, but I thought you hate wearing heels.”
She pulled him down by the collar until they were eye to eye. “I wanted to dress up for my man.” She put her finger in the center of his chin and dragged it lightly down his throat to the space between the open buttons on his collared shirt.
“You don’t like it?” she asked with all the innocence of a schoolgirl and the seduction of a vixen.
“I love it, and I can’t wait to see it on the floor later. I just want you to be comfortable.” He leaned in for a kiss, and she pressed her hand to his chest.
“Lipstick,” she whispered.
“I hate lipstick,” he grumbled.
It took only a few minutes to reach the restaurant, and during that time Willow was unusually quiet.
“Nervous?” He reached for her hand.
“A little.” She slicked her tongue over her perfectly painted lips, leaving them glistening and inviting.
“Baby, I could do you a favor and . . .” He lowered his hand to her thigh, giving it a tight squeeze. “Relax you in a very pleasurable way.”
Her eyes said yes, but she pushed his hand from her leg. “My body turns to butter after you have your way with me. I’d never be able to sit up straight afterward.”
“Good to know.”
He pulled into the parking lot and navigated to a dark spot beneath the trees. “Sweetheart, you know Remi is just a person like you and me. There’s nothing to be worried about.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about Remi. We drank together. I’ve seen the real her.”
“Then what could you possibly have to be nervous about? The dirty promise you made? Because you don’t have to do anything extra on my account. I love you just the way you are.”
She lifted one shoulder with a mysterious smile and pushed open her door. “Let’s not pick it apart.”
That didn’t sound good. He came around the car and helped her to her feet. “That’s one way to make me worry, babe.”
She touched his cheek, which paled in comparison to the kiss he so desperately wanted. “I promise you don’t need to worry.”
Right.
From the outside Tasker’s Chance looked more like a lodge decorated for the holidays than a high-end restaurant. Greenery and white lighting followed the roofline and wound down the side of the cedar building to the trees illuminating the outdoor dining area that stretched from the side of the building all the way around back. On the weekends they offered live music on the patio. The rear of the restaurant was primarily made of glass, and from its vantage point on the hill, nearly every seat offered a glorious view of the lake and the lights of the town.
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br /> “We should go right out to the patio. I reserved a table there so we could dance.” Willow took a few steps ahead and cast a sexy glance over her shoulder. Her hand swept over the hem of her dress. “Can you see my panty lines?”
After a not-so-quick visual inspection, he said, “No, babe. You look perfect.”
“Oops!” Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hand in front of her mouth. “I forgot,” she whispered. “I’m not wearing any.”
He stopped in his tracks. How was he supposed to make it through dinner knowing that?
She wiggled her fingers with a glint of wickedness in her eyes. “Coming?”
“Not yet,” he said under his breath. “But if the tablecloth is long enough, you will be soon.”
Willow’s eyes filled with heat.
Zane pulled Willow closer as they stepped onto the patio and whispered, “That was totally unfair.”
“What was?” She blinked with feigned innocence.
“Oh, is that the game we’re playing?” He slid his hand around her ribs and brushed his thumb over the outside of her breast, loving the instant peaks that rose to greet him.
Her mouth twitched like she was going to trap her lower lip between her teeth. He leaned closer and said, “Remember your lipstick, baby. Keep it on so we can see how hot it looks circling a certain part of me later.”
He guided her, and her slack jaw, toward their table. “Might want to close your mouth, because I’ve got something itching to fill it.” She snapped her mouth shut, and he whispered, “In case I forget when we’re busy later, I truly love everything about you, Wills. Naughty or not, it wouldn’t change a thing.”
“No?” she whispered. “What if I promise to swallow? That doesn’t amp it up even a little bit?”
Holy. Hell.
Right before they reached the table, she pressed her palms flat against his chest, causing heat to streak straight to his core.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said quickly. “If they say the word hard fifteen times during dinner, I’ll leave red streaks, not just rings, everywhere you want.”
She turned toward the table with a wide grin as Remi and the others rose to greet them, leaving Zane’s mind to quickly sift through everything he could possibly ask to evoke the right word. Fifteen times.
Zane tried to concentrate on the dead ringer for David Beckham standing before him, but his mind was firmly entrenched on the image of Willow on her knees, swallowing everything he had to give.
“Aiden Aldridge.” The guy with chiseled features and serious eyes offered a hand in greeting.
“So nice to meet you.” Willow took his hand and nudged Zane from his fantasy. “Isn’t it, Z?”
“Yes, very.” Zane shook Aiden’s hand, itching to sit down beside his beautiful Willow and get his hand between her silky thighs.
Aiden sat between Remi and Bridgette, who was fidgeting nervously with something in her lap and stealing glances at her handsome tablemate. Ben greeted Zane with a manly pat on the back and sat beside Remi. Zane wondered how long it would take before Ben made a play for her.
“Remi tells me congratulations are in order.” Aiden lifted his wineglass.
Zane sat beside Willow and filled their glasses from the open bottle of wine on the table. “Yes, that’s right.” Or at least he hoped it would be. He and Willow had officially become a couple, but that was a long way from being engaged.
“Are you married, Aiden?” Zane asked. He slid his hand beneath the table and squeezed Willow’s thigh, noting the hitch in her breathing.
“No,” Aiden answered. “Ben and I were just discussing the woes of owning or investing in multiple businesses. It makes it hard to form lasting relationships when you’re traveling so often.”
Zane shifted his gaze to Willow. “Hard, you say?” He pressed one finger into her thigh. “Yes, I know about how difficult it can be to maintain a relationship when you’re traveling. Willow’s coming with me to LA for the weekend before we begin shooting again.” He inched his fingers up Willow’s thigh.
“I think it’s important to be flexible like that, Willow,” Remi said. “You’re lucky your business allows it.”
Willow shifted in her seat, covering his hand with hers. “To be honest, I’m pretty nervous about it. I mean, it’s really only a twenty-four-hour visit. We’re leaving tomorrow morning and I have to come back Sunday, but before the other night, I’d never even been on a plane.”
Willow and Bridgette exchanged a glance that told Zane they’d discussed the trip in private, and Willow was more nervous than she’d let on.
Remi flipped her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward. “I’ll give you lessons in LA life. It’s not that hard to figure it out.”
Willow smiled at Zane and moved her hand to his thigh, grazing her fingertips along the outline of his rising erection. “Hear that? It’s not that hard.”
Hell yes, he’d heard it. He spread two fingers out on her thigh, keeping track, and lifted his hips to show her just how hard she was making him. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll do everything within my power to make you comfortable, no matter how hard things get.”
Bridgette sighed. “I love how well you take care of her, Zane. But LA is really different. She might be a little overwhelmed.”
The waitress came to take their orders, and they tabled their conversation while they looked over the menu. The tablecloth masked their naughty activities, but while Willow stopped stroking him, he brushed his fingers over her sex. She squeezed her thighs together, glaring at him, but he simply leaned closer and kissed her cheek.
He kept up his relentless tease as they ordered, though Willow’s order came out in breathless spurts.
After ordering, Remi said, “Back to the lessons. First of all, if you see a woman smile and her face moves, she’s not a native. Everyone uses Botox. Guys and girls. I swear, it’s the land of eternal youth.”
Everyone laughed except Zane. Willow had gotten in on the challenge again, bringing him to a full salute beneath the table. In an effort to keep from groaning aloud, he stopped teasing her long enough to trap her hand against his thigh and pull himself together. She giggled and sipped her wine with a gratified expression.
“It’s not that bad,” Aiden interjected. “My sister likes to exaggerate because she prefers the quiet life of Cape Cod and holing up in her cabin outside New York City. But you should probably get used to juicing instead of eating your vegetables.”
“Willow, remember when we tried that juicing diet?” Bridgette said animatedly. “After, I swear, no more than two hours, Willow said it was torture. Just too hard. That nobody in their right mind should ever give up sweets, and then she made, and consumed, a tub of custard.”
Zane pressed a third finger to Willow’s thigh, earning a challenging, sexy smile from his girl.
“I readily admit it.” Willow eyed Zane. “I have a thing for creamy treats.”
He was going to be sporting wood all night if she kept this up.
“Are we going to tell tales?” Aiden shifted a mischievous look to Remi. “Because I know a certain girl who once snuck downstairs at midnight and ate half the birthday cake I had special ordered for her seventh birthday taking place the next day.”
Remi waved her hand. “Guilty as charged.” She laughed and pointed at Aiden. “But how about the first time we went house hunting in Los Angeles? You found that coffee shop, the one that’s no longer there, and every flipping day we had to go there. Three times a day, regardless of how far it was from wherever we were. He was obsessed.”
Aiden winked at Bridgette. “No shame in obsessing over fine coffee or beautiful things.”
“I love good coffee,” Bridgette said a little breathlessly.
“I think Aiden drank it all, and that’s why they had to close. Of course, when it came to him wanting coffee, we drove across town to get it, but when I was alone, he insisted on hiring a driver for me because it would be too hard for me to get through the crazy traffic.” S
he sighed and patted Aiden’s shoulder. “He was right. I hate driving in LA.”
Willow arched a brow, and Zane tallied up another finger.
“I guess we’re spoiled because Sweetwater is so small and we can walk almost everywhere,” Bridgette added. “Where do you live, Aiden? In LA?”
“I own several homes, but there’s no place I’d call home. For me, wherever family is becomes home for however long I can make it work with my schedule. Which means when Remi’s filming, I try to show up wherever she is. And if she’s between films, I try to spend time wherever she is.”
“I love that you two are so close.” Bridgette’s gaze warmed. “But you don’t have any extended family?”
“No,” Aiden said, shifting a supportive smile to Remi. “We lost our parents a long time ago. There’s just us.”
The serious turn of the conversation brought Zane’s mind out of the gutter. The family he counted on, the one he cherished and would do anything for, wasn’t bound to him by blood. He turned his hand over beneath the table, lacing it with Willow’s, and exchanged a thoughtful glance with Ben. He was thankful for their years of friendship and the family Ben had brought into his life. He leaned over and kissed Willow’s cheek, thankful for her most of all.
“I’m sorry,” Bridgette said to Aiden and Remi. “I know how hard loss can be.”
Zane felt bad counting that particular hard toward his tally, but Willow leaned in closer and whispered, “Ten more.”
Game. On.
DINNER WAS DELICIOUS and conversation came easily, or at least the parts of the conversation Willow could concentrate on. Zane’s fingers had wreaked havoc with her mind. He’d teased her with a featherlight touch, just enough to make her greedy for more. She’d been so focused on him, she’d barely eaten a thing. But she’d heard every single hard that came out of anyone’s mouth. She couldn’t believe how many times the word had come up in normal conversation. Of course, Zane had practically made it a mandatory topic of conversation. Aiden, do you prefer hard or soft cheese? Soft serve or hard? I’m a soft-serve guy. Nothing beats licking the creamy goodness from, well, just about anything. By the time they finished dinner, the word hard had been said eleven times. Eleven! Not that keeping her promise was a hardship, but still, she’d thought it would be more difficult to reach fifteen than he’d made it seem. Then again, she should know better than to underestimate Zane when sex was on the line. The man was insatiable. And she frigging loved it.
The Real Thing (Sugar Lake Book 1) Page 25