She glanced at him and found him watching her. She quickly clapped her hands over her head, realizing that her neat ponytail had come loose and her hair looked like .. . looked like she had been rolling around in a bed, having the time of her life. At least, she didn't have to worry about any makeup smearing, since she had sworn off the stuff, except for lip gloss and mascara, after a disastrous incident with eye shadow and blush in high school.
"You look beautiful,'' Clark said, quietly, moving her hands from her head.
"You're beautiful,” she corrected him. “I'm average.”
"Who told you that?” he asked, outraged.
"No one, but I'm a realist.”
"Then let's be real, Liv, you're gorgeous,” he said, as his hand rested on her right hip under the sheet. This time his touch was comforting and soothing.
"I've seen the women you date, Clark,” she said, with a dry laugh. “I can't go to a grocery store without seeing your face on the cover of a magazine, with a beautiful woman draped around you. They're these specimens of perfection, which is why half the men in America are jealous of you. You have to admit that the average woman you date is . . . she's nothing like me.
"You're right,” he said, softly. “You have a smile that would have driven Michangelo or Da Vinci crazy because they never would have been able to capture it on canvas. And your eyes, I've never seen such light and fire dance in anyone's eyes like they do yours. When you come, I see paradise in your eyes.”
Olivia averted her eyes. If she didn't know that this was just a one night fantasy, she would have believed that Clark meant every word.
His voice lowered as he said softly, “I think that's why I was so out of control.” His eyes were dark and troubled, as if he couldn't believe his own behavior. His gaze moved to her shoulders then her breasts and regret ravaged his face at the visible marks from his hands. “I'm sorry if I was too rough.”
"You weren't,” she said, with a slight smile.
He sounded uncertain as he said, “I've never lost it like that before. I've never been that selfish before.” His hand dropped from her face as he whispered, “I'm sorry, baby, but you drive me crazy.”
She smiled gently. “Somehow, I never imagined that when you told me I drive you crazy it would be in bed.”
Clark sent her a lopsided grin, and Olivia's heart dipped.
"Are you talking dirty to me?” he teased.
"No,” she said, firmly.
"You could in the future, you know,” he murmured, his hand squeezing her hip. She stared at him, speechless. He glanced at the fading sunlight streaming into the windows and cursed. “We're going to be late.”
Olivia attempted to speak, but her mind was still stuck on the words “future” and “we,” as if they were a couple. Clark couldn't have meant it. This was fantasy; he had said exactly that before their first kiss. There was no “future,” no “we,” no matter how much her heart clung to the idea.
When Clark turned to her, Olivia said, “I'm going to take a shower.”
"Is chat an invitation?” he asked, eagerly.
Olivia laughed, but shook her head. She needed to be alone for a few minutes. She needed to give herself another reality check. She was falling for the fantasy, believing there was more than one night between them. She didn't want one night or, even, one month, she wanted the rest of her life. Her heart wouldn't settle for anything less, and her heart wouldn't survive anything less.
"I just thought that since I planned on taking a shower, too . . ." He pouted when she shook her head again. He begrudgingly nodded then said, “There are clean towels on the rack. We need to leave in half an hour.”
Olivia grabbed one of the voluminous sheets and wrapped it snugly and securely around herself before she moved from the bed.
Clark openly watched her, his gaze glued to the knot at the cop of the sheet. “If you're not letting me in the shower, at least, flash some skin.”
"You've seen enough skin for now,” she said, with a smile.
Clark grinned in response, and, if possible, Olivia fell in love a little more.
4
.
I'd recognize that ugly mug anywhere,” came the lazy, familiar drawl as Clark walked into the large yard behind the Tate two-story, rambling house.
The pronouncement was followed by a round of cheers and cowboy yells that made Clark grin. Steve Tate, Clark's best friend since kindergarten, pushed his way through the crowd of men and women and threw his arms around Clark.
Clark accepted the tight embrace from Steve and slapped him on the back. After the two had tried college for three years, he had convinced Steve to move to Los Angeles. Clark had begun the arduous task of trying to find work as a black male actor in Hollywood, while Steve had worked in construction and missed Dominique Gilbert. Steve and Dominique had pretended since the three were children that they were just friends, but once Steve left Red Creek and Dominique called him crying six months later, Steve had returned, and the two had moved in together, taking over Steve's parents' ranch, when the elder Tares retired to Oregon.
"Ladies and gentlemen,” Steve shouted over the country music blasting from the stereo inside the house. The crowd of familiar faces quieted, and Steve clamped an arm on Clark's shoulder. “I present to you, Clark Stone, the ugliest thing to ever be grown in Red Creek.”
Clark laughed then shook his head at Steve, who grinned and almost made Clark believe they were sixteen years old again, cruising Main Street on Saturday night and complaining that there was nothing to do. Then Clark looked at Olivia, who was standing at the back of the crowd, laughing at the reunion. Images of her hot, sweaty, and panting beneath him burned his eyes. There definitely hadn't been nights like that when he had been sixteen years old.
Clark pushed aside thoughts of Olivia and tangled sheets and accepted handshakes and embraces from the people he had known his whole life.
"Clark!” Dominique called, splitting the crowd with her scream. She threw her arms around him and he bent over to pick her up. She was petite, barely reaching the middle of his chest, but she had always been the one who had Clark and Steve jumping to do whatever she wanted. He set her down and grinned at her.
"All right, get back to your drinks and dancing,” Steve ordered, waving people away from Clark. “Y'all act like you've never seen a world-famous actor before!”
There was more laughter, but the press of the crowd dissipated as people returned to the various picnic tables distributed around the yard, inside the house, or to the makeshift dance floor, Clark grabbed Olivia as she tried to follow the crowd. He wanted her with him. He was feeling predatory tonight, especially after noticing a few looks in her direction from other men in the crowd, who obviously sensed fresh meat. She sent him a questioning look, but before he could respond, Steve clapped him on the back.
"We're so glad you came, Clark,” Dominique said, her hazel eyes twinkling with delight.
Clark looked at the beaming couple. Steve and Dominique had been together for so long that they were beginning to look alike. Same vanilla-colored skin, dark, curly hair, and hazel eyes. Steve was taller than Clark, but more thin, which prompted the nickname “Urkel” in high school; whereas, Dominique was petite and voluptuous, like a very short, very pretty version of Jessica Rabbit. Clark had never been jealous of Steve—Steve was the closest thing to a brother that Clark had ever had—but once in a while when Clark saw Dominique look at Steve like a woman looked at only one man in her life, Clark acknowledged the jealousy. Clark was surprised when he found himself glancing at Olivia and wondering—maybe, hoping—if she would ever look at him like that.
"I thought you couldn't make it,” Steve said to Clark.
"I had to be here,” Clark said, grinning at the couple. “It wouldn't give me the same unbridled joy to say I-told-you-so over the telephone.”
Steve rolled his eyes in exasperation, while Dominique laughed. Steve said dryly, “You made a lucky guess twenty-plus years ago, and now I hav
e to hear about it once a week.”
"Lucky guess,” Clark repeated, shaking his head, amused. “Any idiot with two eyes could see what was in store for you two.”
"And any idiot with two eyes did see the truth,” Steve muttered to Dominique, but loud enough for Clark and Olivia to hear. Olivia laughed, while Clark pretended to glower at Steve. Clark could act like a “Hollywood big-shot” outside of Red Creek, but when he returned home, there was no room for a big head.
"Hi,” Dominique said, turning to Olivia, with a bright smile. Clark didn't miss the quizzical glance she shot at him, before she stuck out her hand to Olivia. “I'm Dominique Gilbert and this is my fiancé, Steve. If you want any dirt on Clark, just let us know. We're happy to dish.”
Clark knew he had been rude in not introducing her, but the moment he said her name, his friends would know and then Clark would have to admit the truth—Olivia was more than one night.
Olivia shook her hand and said, “Nice to meet you both. I'm Olivia Hawkins, I'm a , . , friend of Clark's.”
Steve embraced her, and Olivia visibly stiffened before she smiled and wrapped her arms around him. Clark frowned when Steve sent him a knowing wink, as if Steve knew exactly what he was thinking.
Steve reluctantly released Olivia and said, “Welcome to our soon-to-be home.”
"You two have been living together for the last ten years,” Clark said, laughing.
"Yeah, but now we're getting married,” Dominique responded, as if that made the difference,
"How did he finally wear you down?” Clark asked, curiously.
Dominique shrugged then said, with a feigned sigh of exasperation, “When a man asks you the same question every night for a year, you finally either give in or move out.”
"Good thing I'm persistent,” Steve added then said to Dominique, “Why don't you show Liv some of those embarrassing pictures of Clark from junior high school.”
Clark started to protest, but Dominique laughed gleefully and grabbed Olivia's hand. She said sweetly, “Steve and I only ask for thirty percent of any price you get for them from the tabloids.”
Clark watched helplessly as Dominique dragged Olivia into the house. Olivia sent him a smile over her shoulder and Clark would have gone after her, half-dazed by arousal, but a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. He shook his head in confusion then realized that Steve still stood next to him.
"You look like you could use a beer,” Steve said, cheerfully.
Clark nodded then followed him across the yard, halfheartedly smiling at the friends who yelled to him. Steve grabbed two bottles of beer from a bucket filled with ice and bottles of beer and soda, then kept walking across the dirt field to the large red and white barn behind the house.
Clark accepted a bottle from Steve as he walked into the coolness of the barn, smelling of hay and horses. He stopped at the first stall and ran a hand down the nose of the large, softly whining horse. In the barn, the sounds of the party were far away, which meant that Olivia was far away.
"I remember when your father caught Dominique and me in here when we were fifteen,” Clark murmured. “You were supposed to be lookout.”
"I called him over and told him you two were in here,” Steve said.
Clark laughed and stared at his best friend, amazed. “You did what? You claimed you didn't like her. You said you didn't care if I made out with her.”
"I cared,” he responded, simply, then added with a smile, “And I never left you alone with her again.”
Clark shook his head in amusement, then turned from the horse and opened the bottle of beer. He took a long swig before he asked, “How's the ranch going?”
"It's tough work,” he responded, his expression grave and almost worried. “We're getting by.”
Clark had offered before, and had been turned down, but he still said, “If you need money—”
"I appreciate that the offer is there, man, but we're good,” Steve quickly interrupted him, but sent Clark a grateful smile.
Clark nodded in understanding. If the tables had been turned, he wouldn't have accepted anything from Steve either. Red Creek men may have been poor, but they were proud. Clark changed the awkward subject and said sincerely, “You have a good life here.”
Steve stared at him, surprised. “I should be saying that to you. You have the life that every man dreams about. Dominique showed me a magazine that had a picture of some actress you were dating. Man . . .” His voice trailed off as he shook his head in admiration.
Clark forced a smile, but didn't respond and continued to run his hand down the horse's snout. Steve asked, concerned, “What's wrong?”
"It's her.”
"Olivia,” Steve said instantly. When Clark looked at him surprised, Steve grinned. “You've never brought anyone back to Red Creek, and you've never—in all the years I've known you— looked like you were about to throw a temper tantrum because a woman walked away from you.”
"It's that obvious?”
"It's kind of pathetic, isn't it? One day, you're a man, living your life, thinking you have some control. The next day . . . you're like a calf, stumbling around the range, bawling for his mama.”
"Something like that,” Clark murmured, trying not laugh at Steve's musings.
"You love her, don't you?” Steve asked, studying Clark carefully.
"This is not a good time,” he responded, avoiding the question. “I'm doing good at the box office, but I can do better. I'm on the verge of breaking into the same leagues as the white actors—Tom Cruise, Arnold, Harrison Ford. I can be the best, but I can't be side-tracked or railroaded or tied down. Olivia would expect that, y'know. She'd expect me home with her . . . although, she'd understand better than anyone what I'd need to do to reach the top since her family has been in the industry for years. Her contacts could be an asset. She does make me feel like a normal man, and not like a freak. She's funny and smart. . . but, then there are the women. I'm supposed to give up all those women for her?”
"Who would want to give up one-night stands and fun times with some of the most beautiful women in the world for every night with one woman you can trust and depend on?” Steve agreed.
Clark was not amused as he glared at Steve, who tried to look innocent. Clark muttered, annoyed, “She teaches English at a community college in Los Angeles.”
Clark laughed, as Steve said, appalled, “She's an English professor? You almost flunked English in high school.”
"And I wouldn't be surprised if she had never seen one of my movies,” he muttered, then drained the rest of his beer and tossed the empty bottle in a bin near the door. “Even the president of the United States has seen my movies.”
"Someone who hasn't seen your movies?” Steve's disbelief was so energetic and dramatic that Clark almost didn't believe him.
"Yes, I'm in love with her. Satisfied?” Clark muttered, which prompted Steve to burst into hysterical laughter. “It's not that funny, Steve.”
"You're right. What would be truly funny is seeing you up to your elbows in dirty diapers. Now, that's a picture I would pay to see on the cover of People magazine.”
"You know, there are some people who would pay to be my friend and wouldn't give me half the problems you do,” Clark shot back.
Steve laughed, then opened his beer. “Now, use those acting skills, paste a smile on your face, come eat some barbeque and get back to your woman. There are a lot of single men in Red Creek.”
"I need to think,” Clark said, shaking his head. Steve's smile faded, as if he finally took Clark's angst seriously, then he nodded and left the barn.
Clark's feelings were too raw and too foreign for him to be around Olivia right now. He would probably start sprouting poetry or vowing to give up his wild ways. Then he realized that he had given up his wild ways. He hadn't been in the tabloids in five months because of her, not because Jack had been babysitting him. The truth was that Clark didn't think about anything anymore, except Olivia. Going out didn't hold the sa
me allure. He would sit in the bars for a few painful hours and then he would leave disgusted with himself and disgusted with the bar. He had finally stopped going a few months ago. His life had been mini- vans and oatmeal cookies for a long time, and he hadn't even realized it.
"Clark,” came Olivia's soft voice behind him.
Clark whirled around and as soon as he saw her, he cursed Steve, who had no doubt sent her to the barn. He still wasn't prepared to face her, except there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be than standing with her in this hay-strewn, dusty barn, with the musty horses around them, singing to them. As far as Clark was concerned, it was better than any candlelit, five-star hotel room.
"I've never been inside a barn before,” she said, glancing around the dark interior, lit by the moonlight through the open doors and open windows. She turned to Clark and he instantly looked away from her. She mused, “Seeing you around your family and friends . . . you're nothing like I thought you were.”
"How did you think I would be?” At her guilty look, he laughed and said, “I guess I don't want to know. Is that why you always avoided me? You thought I was as bad as the tabloids paint me out to be.”
"I didn't avoid you,” she protested.
"Yes, you did—”
"That is not true, Clark,” she said, laughing in disbelief. “I couldn't avoid you because you never looked at me. You never spoke to me, and if we were alone in a room together, you would leave.”
He became still, and his eyes glinted dangerously, causing Olivia to soundlessly gasp. Would she ever stop wanting this man? He said softly, “I wanted you even then, Liv.”
"What?” she sputtered, shocked.
Olivia searched his face for any sign of his usual teasing, but all she saw was sincerity. He was an actor, Olivia knew he could fake any emotion, but she refused to believe that he could fake this. She noticed the gleam in his eyes that he tried to hide, as his gaze dropped to her breasts. It was lust, she told herself. Plain and simple. She refused to believe anything else.
An All Night Man Page 25