Taming Her Hollywood Playboy

by Emily Forbes

  ‘All you need is some music and a willing partner. Actually, music is optional. We could dance right now if you wanted to.’

  Kat had learnt by now that Oliver didn’t take anything seriously. His life was all about fun. In comparison, she took everything seriously.

  He was making her nervous. Not in a bad way, but she was worried that he was going to convince her to dance and she didn’t think she’d be able to handle that. She knew being in his arms would be her undoing.

  She stood up.

  ‘Are we going to dance?’ he asked.

  She shook her head and reached for the ice box. ‘No, we need to get going. I’ve got to get back—I’m going to my cousin’s for dinner.’ She tidied up the remains of their picnic, picked up their glasses and packed them away.

  ‘The one who lives next door?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re having dinner together again?’

  ‘It’s kind of a weekly ritual.’

  ‘Really? Wouldn’t you rather stay here with me?’ He was standing now too. He lifted her hair and tucked it over her shoulder. His fingers skimmed her flesh, making it hum where he touched her. He was standing close and his eyes were mesmerising. He was engaging, funny, charming and incredibly good-looking, and Kat was tempted but she didn’t give in.

  ‘I’m expected there.’

  ‘And do you always do what’s expected?’

  ‘Pretty much.’ Following the rules and doing what was expected was part of her personality, but circumstances had also influenced her behaviour. She’d seen death and disaster first hand, and growing up in such a harsh environment had tainted her perceptions of what she could get away with.

  ‘That’s a pity. We could have fun.’

  She’d forgotten what it was like to have fun. To have dreams.

  ‘You’re blushing,’ he said. ‘Do you think I’m flirting with you?

  Kat didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Oliver was standing so close, with his hand on her arm, and his proximity stripped her of the capability of speech.

  ‘You should,’ he added. ‘I am.’ He grinned, his slow smile stretching from one corner of his gorgeous mouth to the other.

  ‘Why on earth would you want to flirt with me?’

  ‘Because you are incredibly beautiful.’

  She laughed. She wanted to believe him but she couldn’t. ‘You must have met hundreds of women who are more beautiful than me.’

  ‘I can honestly say I haven’t met one as beautiful as you who hasn’t had any help. So either you have an amazing surgeon and I am a blind fool or you are naturally stunning.’

  ‘I am ordinary.’

  ‘I disagree. You are beautiful and interesting. A little mysterious. It’s like finding a pearl or a diamond out of place. A thing of beauty in a hostile environment.’

  ‘I think I’m more like an opal. Tough and at home in the outback.’

  ‘Perhaps, but that definitely makes you unique, which makes you more interesting. At least to me. My father moved us around the world when I was growing up and for the past twelve years I’ve continued to travel in the world of showbiz, but I don’t get to meet many people like you. You fascinate me. Your background, the career you’ve chosen, the fact that you look so unexpected out here and yet you seem so comfortable. Content. Everyone I meet is competing for something—the next part, the next girl, the next dollar. You’re refreshing.’

  ‘And you are a flatterer.’

  ‘Is it working?’

  Yes, she thought, but that’s not what she said. ‘Not yet. You’ll have to try a bit harder. I’m not that sort of girl.’

  She suspected that, where Oliver was concerned, she might be exactly that type of girl, but she would make him work just a little bit harder. It wouldn’t do him any harm.

  He bent his head, brushing his lips over her ear, and she almost gave in then and there. Could he feel it? she wondered. Could he feel her self-control slipping?

  ‘Well, I’m not going to give up and, to be fair, I have warned you, the more I’m told I can’t have something, the more I want it.’

  He was teasing her, testing her, and she knew she would eventually give in. She didn’t have a hope in hell of resisting him for ever.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  KAT WAS ON set early for her first official day of duty. The sun was still rising in the east and the morning light streaked the sky with pink and gold and turned the earth a muted red. The landscape looked as though it had been touched up by an artist’s brush using all the colours of an Aboriginal painting—ochre, gold, crimson, scarlet and the pink of a galah’s feathers. The view was incredible and Kat hoped the colours would be captured on screen.

  She sat on a chair behind George. She could see Oliver on two different screens over the director’s shoulder but, looking across the flat planes of the earth, she could also see him standing on top of the hill, waiting for his cue.

  Her mind drifted as she waited for filming to begin. Once again, she found her thoughts returning to the day they’d spent together at the lake. She had been pleasantly surprised about what a good time she’d had. They had flirted and laughed but, more importantly, they had talked and talked. She had shared things with him that she hadn’t talked about in a long time, things she had never talked to anyone except Saskia about. And Oliver had listened.

  Kat was beginning to think that maybe they could have a relationship that had some substance to it. There was definitely an attraction between them and they shared a sense of humour, but was that enough to overcome the differences she also knew they had? He was worldly, charming, independent and liked to push the boundaries. She was sheltered, sensible, a nurturer and a rule-follower. He might think she was refreshing but she suspected he might soon be bored. She suspected that, in reality, she was too vanilla for him.

  ‘Action.’

  The command came through the headset she was wearing and jolted her back to the present.

  She saw Oliver start walking. The land was dry, the earth hard-packed, but Oliver’s feet were sinking into sand. She knew George wanted the effect of soft ground making it arduous going for Oliver’s character, and the prop crew had added a deep layer of fine red sand to the hill, reminding Kat that, in Oliver’s world, nothing was really as it seemed.

  The camera zoomed in and Kat switched her attention to the screen. She couldn’t look away as the camera focused in on Oliver’s face. His blue eyes were electric against the rose gold of the sky.

  He continued to trudge across the ground and she could see him scanning the horizon and then, suddenly, he disappeared from the screen.

  Kat heard her sharp intake of breath and flicked her gaze back to the hill. Oliver was tumbling down, head first.

  She knew this was a stunt but it looked so real. She saw Oliver bouncing off the ground and wondered if, or hoped, he was wearing protective padding. It looked dangerous. And painful. She didn’t want to watch but she couldn’t look away.

  Her whole body was tense. Her hands were clenched into tight fists and she couldn’t breathe. The whole stunt probably lasted twenty seconds but it felt like a lifetime before Oliver finally hit the bottom of the hill, landing with a thud. Kat imagined she could feel the air being forced out of his lungs.

  She waited, still holding her breath, for him to get up. For him to move.

  The set was quiet.

  No one moved. No one spoke.

  What were they waiting for?

  Kat didn’t know but one thing she did know was that Oliver still hadn’t moved. Surely he should be up by now?

  He must be hurt.

  Winded. Injured. Unconscious.

  He could be any of those things.

  Her instincts kicked in. She leapt off her chair and dropped the headset onto the seat. She grabbed her backpack, which was at her feet, and took off across
the red sand, sprinting as fast as she could over the stony ground, hoping someone would think to grab her heavier, second bag of equipment.

  ‘Cut!’

  She was halfway across the site when she heard George’s direction. Were they still filming? Had she just ruined the scene? Was this all part of the action?

  She didn’t break stride. It was too bad if she’d ruined it. She didn’t care. It would be much worse if their star was injured and she left him lying on the ground. She was going to do her job and she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her.

  She reached Oliver’s side.

  He still hadn’t moved.

  His eyes were closed but she could see his chest rising and falling. As she dropped her backpack in the dust and knelt beside him, he opened his eyes.

  She looked into his piercing blue eyes. Was one pupil slightly more dilated than the other?

  She placed one hand on his chest. ‘Don’t move.’

  * * *

  Kat’s face swam into focus.

  The first thing he noticed were her red lips. The rest of her was a little fuzzy around the edges. Maybe he was hurt worse than he thought.

  ‘Are they still filming?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are they still filming? I’m supposed to get up and keep moving.’ At least, that was what he thought he was supposed to do. His mind was a little hazy.

  ‘They’re not filming but you’re not getting up until I’ve checked you out. You’ve just fallen down a hill and got the wind knocked out of you.’

  ‘I was supposed to fall down the hill. It’s called acting.’

  He could see George and some of the crew approaching. He felt bruised and sore but there was no way he was going to lie meekly on the ground. It was time to get up. Kat’s hand was on his chest, keeping him on the ground. He could stand if he wanted to—she wasn’t putting any pressure on him, just a warning hold.

  He lifted his head and felt the earth spin a little. There was a sharp, stabbing pain in his left side as he sat up and he struggled not to wince, hoping Kat didn’t notice.

  ‘Oliver! You’re obviously hurt—lie down and let me check you out. What am I doing here if you’re not going to listen to me?’ It seemed she hadn’t missed the grimace.

  She insisted that he stay down while she examined him. She was obviously annoyed with him; he thought she was poking and prodding him a bit harder than was necessary. She made him breathe deeply, move his limbs and head this way and that. He managed to do everything she asked, albeit with some discomfort, but he was sure he wasn’t badly injured.

  Kat seemed to have a different opinion. ‘I think you might have cracked a rib. You should go to the hospital for precautionary X-rays.’

  ‘Is that really necessary, Kat?’ George asked. ‘Isn’t there something you could do for him here? We’re behind on filming already.’

  ‘He’s not in any condition to film any stunts until he gets checked,’ Kat argued.

  ‘What if I shuffle scenes so there is no more stunt work today? You can stay and supervise. If you think we’re putting his health at risk I’ll let you take him off for X-rays. But if he’s managing he can have X-rays at the end of the day.’

  ‘There’s no crepitus, just tenderness and pain on inhalation.’

  ‘I have no idea what that means.’

  ‘I’m thinking out loud,’ Kat said. ‘It means that with strapping, some pain relief and anti-inflammatory medication he might be OK. Give me twenty minutes now—that’s enough time for oral pain relief to kick in—and then we’ll reassess.’

  Oliver was able to strip his costume off with some assistance. His ribs were painful but he was determined not to give Kat any reason to cart him off to hospital. Once again he was semi-naked and being attended to, but this time it was Kat, not Julia, assessing his injuries. Unfortunately they were in a tent in the middle of the desert, surrounded by dozens of crew, and his injuries were real, which put a bit of a dampener on things.

  Kat strapped his ribs and he managed to work through the rest of the day. He was stiff and sore as the day wore on but he didn’t quit. Kat had watched him like a hawk and the moment they wrapped for the day she bundled him off to the hospital.

  * * *

  ‘Hello again, Oliver. This is a pleasant surprise.’

  He recognised Saskia as he and Kat stepped through the doors into Emergency. ‘I didn’t realise you were a nurse,’ he said, his hopes that he could talk his way out of an examination evaporating. He knew he wouldn’t be able to convince both Kat and Saskia that he was fine.

  He suffered through more tests with the doctor before he was sent for X-rays.

  ‘You have a mild concussion,’ he was informed. That made two this week, Oliver thought, but he kept that information to himself. ‘But there’s no apparent fracture,’ Damien said when the X-rays were developed. ‘That doesn’t mean you can’t have a small crack somewhere that’s just not showing up, but there’s no major skeletal damage. Just soft tissue—a sprain, some swelling and bruising. Ice packs, some pain relief and some anti-inflammatory meds should do the trick. Rest tonight and then movement as comfortable.’

  ‘I can go back to work?’

  Damien nodded.

  ‘What about monitoring the concussion? He’s staying at the Cave Hotel,’ Saskia asked before looking knowingly at Kat and adding, ‘Alone. Shouldn’t he have some supervision?’

  ‘You haven’t got any nausea? Haven’t vomited?’ Damien asked.

  ‘No,’ Oliver replied. He wasn’t going to consent to supervision or to being admitted to hospital. He had a dull headache but he wasn’t going to jeopardise the movie or his career by appearing incapacitated. Besides, his vision had cleared.

  ‘I’m not sure we can justify a bed,’ Damien said, ‘But if you feel unwell either come back in or call 000. That’s the emergency number.’

  ‘000 will just call Kat,’ Saskia told him as Damien left them.

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a bad compromise.’

  ‘No, it won’t get me,’ Kat said. ‘I’m not working tonight.’

  ‘Even better,’ Saskia replied. ‘Why don’t you take Oliver with you now, Kat? You don’t have anything else to do, do you? And that way you can keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s OK.’

  That sounded good to Oliver. ‘I’ll buy you dinner,’ he offered.

  ‘This isn’t a date.’

  ‘OK, but one day we’ll have a proper date.’

  He figured she could call it whatever she liked but he would treat it like a date.

  It had been a long time since he’d asked a woman on a date because he’d wanted to get to know her. He’d been burnt once and had since shied away from dating except when he needed to do it for publicity. It kept things simple. There were no expectations if it was purely a business arrangement. There was no chance of disappointment on either side if the ‘date’ was mutually beneficial, and if the night ended with the two of them between the sheets it had always been mutually agreed upon with no suggestion that it made the evening into anything more than what it had been.

  But he was well aware that he needed to curtail his brief encounters, he needed to clean up his reputation and make an effort to redeem himself from a party-going playboy to a serious, eligible, respectable man. He needed to commit some time to getting to know someone on a deeper level, to having a conversation that was about more than what cocktail he could buy them or what they’d like for breakfast, and he could do much worse than spend that time with Kat. He had no problem with getting to know her better. And, at some point in the near future, he would get her to agree to go on a proper date with him, but for now he’d be happy with whatever time she would give him.

  * * *

  In the end Kat agreed to dinner. Her only other option was to take Oliver home with her to feed him, and she was not g
oing to introduce him to her father. Introducing someone she was dating was difficult enough, let alone someone for whom she had no label.

  She knew she was being silly. If he was just a friend she wouldn’t hesitate. But how would she explain Oliver? A work colleague? A movie star? Someone from out of town? Any of those descriptions would do but they wouldn’t hide the fact that she was attracted to him and she hated to think what her dad would do or say if he noticed. He always seemed to be of the opinion that no one was good enough for his daughter and it would be humiliating if he gave Oliver the third degree. Oliver had made his intentions clear; he was pursuing her, but he had no more serious intentions than that. If he got her into bed she was certain that would be the end of it. She definitely didn’t need to introduce him to her father.

  She’d dropped Oliver at his hotel to shower and change before she raced home to do the same, cursing Saskia and her meddling ways all the while. Although she couldn’t be too cross. There was a lot to be said about spending an evening with Oliver Harding. Even the anticipation was exciting.

  She’d thrown a few supplies into the back of her four-by-four before picking him up again and driving him a few hundred metres to the petrol station.

  ‘Do you want me to fill up the tank for you?’ he offered as she turned off the road.

  ‘No, thank you. I’m good,’ she replied as she parked the car in a space out the front. ‘This is where we’re having dinner.’

  ‘A roadhouse?’ He sounded offended. ‘I offered to buy you dinner. I can afford something fancier than a roadhouse diner.’

  ‘Trust me, it’s good. It’s owned by Dean’s best friend and there’s a private room out the back.’

  ‘Do you have a connection to everyone in this town?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  Oliver held the door for her as they entered the roadhouse. They were warmly welcomed and ushered out the back, where they had the space to themselves. He pulled her chair out for her as she sat. She liked the attention. They ordered pizzas and talked about the places Oliver had lived in and travelled to. Kat had been to Adelaide to study and she’d been to Sydney once. Her life experiences were totally different to his but he didn’t make her feel inexperienced. He was an entertaining storyteller, even for an audience of one, and Kat enjoyed listening to his tales. He questioned her about her childhood, what it was like growing up in Coober Pedy, and got her to divulge her most interesting work stories. She felt as if they could talk all night.