“Sorry, Phoebe,” he said, turning back to her. “But I made other plans.”
“Later, then?”
“Look,” Bill said, gesturing to the crowds of people, “there’s at least two guys for every woman here. Just hold up a sign, and you’ll have a partner within seconds.”
“But…” She pouted. “I wanted you to be my partner.”
Bill took Ellie’s hand. “I already have one.”
Ellie’s very breath scattered and for a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Well, not for long. A coherent thought finally took shape in her mind. Wasn’t this the confused guy who’d decided he couldn’t do this with me?
Yeah, and she was the confused girl who hadn’t been too sure about giving this a chance, either.
She interlaced her fingers with his and smiled to herself. Maybe two wrongs didn’t make a right, but two confused people could certainly make a go of it.
A SHORT WHILE LATER, Ellie and Bill stood in front of a ticket booth. The sun was hovering low in the early evening sky. Neon lights were coming to life along the midway.
Ellie looked up at the Ferris wheel then back to Bill. “Think you can behave so we don’t get kicked off?”
“I’ll do my best.” He grinned. “Can’t make any promises, though.”
“Candy and Sara are expecting us at the Hot Shot game in thirty minutes, so let’s try not to be escorted out of the festival, okay?”
“Hey, look on the bright side. If we get kicked off, who will be escorting us out of the festival? Our pals at Security.” He winked. “So all we need to do is put on a good show, pretend we’re really leaving, then turn around and sneak back in.”
She gave him a teasing look. “And you claim to be such an honest man.”
“Ellie,” he said, lifting her hand, “I’m always honest when it comes to you.” He placed a kiss on the back of her fingers.
She closed her eyes and shuddered a release of breath, liking the feel of his lips against her skin even as she didn’t like her own deceit. Wait a minute—how bad am I really being? Lots of women, and men, dress or act a certain way to attract the opposite sex.
The justification, however, felt hollow. In a way, she felt more manipulative than Phoebe, whose dress and behavior were an extension of herself, whereas Ellie was being something she wasn’t.
“You okay?”
“Huh? Oh, sure.” Not.
“We don’t have to go on the Ferris wheel.”
“No, I want to.” The longer we’re together, the greater the chances he’ll figure out my deceit.
Neither moved. He gave her a quizzical look. “Something’s wrong, I can tell. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Stop,” she said softly, pressing her finger to his lips.
He liked the soft feel of her touch against his mouth. He imagined nibbling a little on her finger, slowly sucking it into his mouth, running his tongue around it.
He grew hard again just thinking about where else she could put her hands…where else he could put his mouth.
She must have picked up on his thoughts because she slowly ran her finger along his top lip, trailing along the cushion of his bottom lip, down to his soul patch.
“I like this,” she said, lightly feathering the patch.
“I like you touching it.”
Her fingers trailed to his jaw. “The reason I’m acting oddly is…this will be over soon.”
“Who said?”
“Me.” She dropped her hand. “Our crossing paths in Malibu was total serendipity.”
“So?”
She took a breath. “So, considering how busy we are the rest of this week—well, you more than me—it’s sheer luck we have the rest of today to spend together. I mean, sure, we’ll probably see each other on the set, but from a distance. Then the week will end, we’ll return to our routines, and that’s that.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Gee, Ellie, your romantic streak is showing.”
She laughed softly. “I’m being realistic. Like Cinderella at the ball, midnight will strike and it will all be over.”
“So, this ends at midnight?”
She shrugged, nodded.
“But I thought Magellan said Cinderella doesn’t make it home before midnight.”
“Yeah, but Magellan is nothing more than a Jimmy Buffett character in a turban.”
One could never say Ellie was an easy-to-read woman, which appealed to Bill even if it had its frustrating moments. He’d always liked a challenge, and Ellie certainly gave him that.
Amazing, she was offering him a tidy ending. No strings. What he would have given for other women to have offered him the same deal. Problem was, with Ellie, he wanted more. He never thought he’d admit this to himself, but he’d enjoyed their reminiscences about Olvera Street, down to how the pan dulce stuck to the roofs of their mouths.
What other memories would they share? Friends they’d known? Family they’d loved…and those they’d lost? No, she was right. It was better to put a lid on this before it got out of hand.
“Okay,” he said, “we go with your plan. At the stroke of midnight, that’s it.”
She nodded, a look of relief in her eyes.
Which irked him. She didn’t have to look relieved about it. Unless…there was something he was missing in this picture.
“Have to ask…is there a boyfriend? Don’t mind making a deal, as long as it’s a fair deal and we’re both putting our cards, so to speak, on the table.”
“No, I’m not involved with anyone. Man or woman, just to set the record straight.” She smiled teasingly, then turned somewhat serious. “How about you?”
“Same. Except, well, to be honest…” He scratched his chin. “There’s someone I recently dated, but it’s in limbo.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Define limbo.”
“She, uh, wants to see if there’s potential, but I’m not so sure.”
“Potential? As in, meet the mother?”
He’d never taken anyone to meet his mother. “Something like that.”
She mulled it over for a moment. “Okay, we stick with the midnight plan. But no sex.”
“What?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You’re the one leading on Ms. Limbo.”
“No, no, you’re misconstruing the entire thing. Limbo means nothing’s happening.” He blew out a breath. “I can’t believe we’re having yet another weird conversation in the middle of the midway.”
“But you’re involved,” she said, ignoring his aside.
“We were dating. Past tense.”
She arched a brow. “Does she know you speak of her in the past tense?”
“What does it matter? We’re over at midnight, anyway!” He started to scratch his chin, paused, dropped his hand. Too late. Laser-eyes had tracked the move.
“Look,” he said, “as dumb as this conversation is, I’m a man of my word and I’m giving it to you here, now, straight up. Vi and I met, we dated for a few months. We both have demanding careers, the commute to each other’s place is a hassle, so we’re taking a break while she’s in Europe. When she gets back, we’re going to see where things are.”
Ellie felt her world topple a little. “Vi?”
“Short for Violette.”
The way he said it, made the name sound…
“She’s French?”
Bill nodded.
“Accent and all that?”
“Yes, accent and—” he gave a shake of his head, a slight smile curving his lips “—all that, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
It means that she’s tall, lithe, makes a mouthwatering coq au vin that makes men fall to their knees, and she knows more sexual tricks than the Kama Sutra.
Rubbing her eyebrow, Ellie looked around, not wanting Bill to see the disappointment in her face. Disappointment, ha, to see the flat-out, Oz-green jealousy. She needed a moment to tame her inner beasts, rein them before they got the better of her.
Okay, there’s another woman waiting in the wings. Bottom line, do you believe the limbo part?
She thought about his eyes when he’d said it. They glistened with such earnestness. A memory flashed in her mind. A sixteen-year-old Bill, going around the neighborhood looking for his kid sister.
Ellie had stood behind her mom and watched him as he paced on the porch, worried, talking about his sister, her bad report card, how she’d run away from home. He hadn’t been as tall or buffed as now, but already handsome in that dark, intense way.
That day, he’d also had the same look in his eyes as he had now.
Yeah, she believed him about Vi.
“Ellie?”
She turned, met his gaze. “Okay, midnight plan is still on.”
“With…or without?”
She gave a slow, teasing grin. “Bill Romero, do you think I waited this long to go without?”
6
BILL’S TEETH FLASHED white against his bronze skin. “Cool!” He grabbed Ellie into a hug, laughing. “We’ll boogie down until the midnight hour, baby!”
His exuberance was infectious. Ellie laughed with him, any lingering reservations dissolving into the warm evening air. “Boogie down and up and every which other way!”
A sunburned guy in a loud Hawaiian shirt, white sunblock on his nose, stopped, his mouth agape. “Wow, dudes, what contest is that?”
Ellie and Bill turned and looked at him.
“Man, I’d like to sign up for that midnight boogie game.” He took a sip from a bright red straw stuck into a coconut. “Where’s it at?”
“Keep heading in the direction you’re going.” Ellie pointed in case he wasn’t sure. “When you pass the volleyball games, take a left.”
“Cool!” He teetered, caught his balance. “What’s the contest name?”
Ellie and Bill looked at each other.
Bill turned back to the guy. “Twelve strokes to midnight.”
Ellie, taking a sip of her lemonade, nearly choked.
“Righteous.” The guy flashed them a hang ten before disappearing into the crowd.
Ellie gave Bill a look. “Twelve strokes to midnight?”
He grinned, obviously enjoying his impromptu quip. “It would have made a perfect contest name for this festival.” He suddenly grew serious. “Hey, sorry about that funky mood I was in earlier.”
“Like I don’t have my funky moments, too.”
“Yeah, you do,” he teased. “I blame mine on my fiery, passionate Cuban half, what’s your excuse?”
She laughed, pressed her cool lemonade container against his bare chest. He barely flinched, macho guy that he was.
“I don’t have one unless I can blame it on my Irish half. The other half is very repressed, Midwestern.”
“Yeah, I’d barely ever hear a peep from your house.”
“How could you? The Romeros were the loudest family on the block!”
People were disembarking the Ferris wheel, couples looking flushed, their hair windblown. Some were laughing, others walking slowly with their arms wrapped around each other.
A man, dressed in denim shorts and a red-and-white striped tank top, strolled in front of the gate to the ride, calling out to the crowd. “Get your tickets to the Ferris wheel! A lucky few get a special stop at the top! Step right up, get your tickets!”
Bill dug into his pocket, pleased when he found the last few complimentary tickets. He held them up.
“C’mon, Ellie, let’s go misbehave.”
MINUTES LATER, a squat sixty-something man who managed to talk while chewing the butt of a cigar, admonished them not to stand up “till da ride stops” before shutting the metal bar over their laps with a heavy clang. The ride lurched, their benchlike seat jerked up several feet, then it stopped abruptly to load the next passengers.
“Don’t stand up till da ride stops.”
Clang.
Their seat lurched upward another few feet, stopped, swinging slightly.
Ellie, her fingers gripped around the cold metal bar, stared straight ahead, feeling slightly giddy. The ride lurched up again. Her stomach clenched.
“Nervous?” asked Bill, putting his arm around her.
“A little.”
“Let’s get your mind onto something else, then. Tell me about your coffee shop. What’s the name of it?”
“Dark Gothic Roast.”
“Gothic, huh? Why’d you pick that?”
Lurch. Her stomach rose with the chair until it jerked to another stop. They were high enough that she could see the ocean, a vast dark blue all the way to the horizon.
“Because…” She could tell him a little without giving away her secret. “…I like that era. The somber but emotional art, the great cathedrals, the stained glass.”
“Sounds cool. Where is it?”
He could look it up online, or in the telephone book, so she might as well tell him. Anyway, she doubted he’d ever show up. It was in one of L.A.’s high-rise business areas—lots of tall buildings and people in suits. Anyway, unless her business loan fell through, she’d soon be moving it.
“Century City.”
“So you cater to the eight-to-five types.”
“Yes.” The suits got a kick out of the goth theme. Some even held business meetings there. The bulk of her evening clientele came from the goth bar around the corner.
She held her breath as their bench seat rose, rose….
They stopped at the top.
“This is awesome.” Cool breezes whipped her hair. Hot sun beat on her skin. She felt fantastic—more alive, more exhilarated than she had in a long time…years, actually.
He squeezed her shoulder, hugged her closer. She turned slightly and looked at him. Maybe it was the bright sun, but she felt as though she saw more in his face. A brooding restlessness, a loneliness, she hadn’t noticed before. As though no place were home.
He smiled, the lines crinkling around his eyes, and the restlessness disappeared. “You okay?”
She nodded, still a bit taken aback at the glimpse she’d just seen.
“I can signal the guy to stop the ride when we’re back down.” His gaze dropped to her lips, slowly returned to her face.
“No,” she murmured, “I’m fine.”
She snuggled closer just as the ride started to descend. Wind rushed up to meet them as a thrill shimmied from her stomach all the way to the top of her head. She pressed against Bill and emitted a high, piercing shriek that she couldn’t have held back if she’d tried.
Then, they swept past the ground, the blur of people and noises and smells fading away into the distance as they soared up, up, up to the blue sky and a yellow sun.
She wrapped her arms around Bill’s waist, the feel of his warm skin grounding her in the dizzying rush of wind and light.
When he tightened his hold, she took advantage of it to snuggle closer. Her cheek slid down slightly, resting on his hard, molded pec. She looked into the tattooed dragon’s eye, fierce and blue, the burnished green scales trailing behind. Such a big, bad dragon. She flicked out her tongue and licked it.
Salty. Warm.
Another thrill rushed through her as the ride soared skyward again. Higher, higher. She buried her head against his chest as another high-pitched shriek ripped loose from her lips.
As they crested, she felt more than heard his chuckle rumble up his chest.
“Hold on,” he yelled, tightening his hold on her as they plummeted back to earth.
She didn’t want to look. Didn’t dare look. Instead, she hung on to Bill for dear life, clamping shut her mouth to stop further banshee screams.
Then, suddenly, they jerked to a stop.
As the bench seat swung back and forth for a moment, she kept her face buried against his chest.
“You all right?”
She raised her head. All she saw was Bill’s face, creased with a wide grin.
“You’re laughing at me.”
“No.” He tried not to grin, but his mo
uth refused. “Sorry, it’s just…have you ever thought about doing voice-over work? Some actors actually specialize in screams.”
“Very funny.” She straightened a little and looked around. They were on the backside of the ride, which was a good thing because it helped center her somewhat to see all the other passengers in front and above them. “Why are we stopped?”
Bill looked down. “Nobody’s getting on.” He turned back to her.
When their eyes met, she was taken with how much lighter his brown eyes were than she remembered. Maybe because their faces were so close, or because of the bright light, but their color reminded her of the rich caramel she sometimes drizzled on coffee drinks.
Like caramel, the look in his eyes was sweet, too. Funny, he had more personalities than she did. The temperamental Cuban. The macho guy. And now, the sweet man with the tender, almost hopeful, look in his eyes.
Then, something odd happened as she realized that it wasn’t that she was seeing something new, but that he’d let her get inside him. Not much, but enough to be vulnerable to her. Enough to trust her. Instinctively she knew he didn’t give that away too often, if at all.
They sat that way for a long moment, their eyes silently probing, deeply, into the other’s.
When another gust blew her hair into her eyes, he swept the strands back. But his hand remained, gently cupping her face.
“Ellie,” he murmured, “you’re so beautiful.”
Beautiful had always seemed a word for other women, not her. Sometimes, in her goth attire and makeup, she fancied herself darkly exotic. But as a beach babe, she felt like a plastic Barbie doll.
But to hear it from Bill’s lips, with that look in his eyes…she felt beautiful.
He lowered his head to kiss her and she eagerly raised her lips to meet his. And when they were so close she could almost taste him…
A cell phone rang.
Bill cursed under his breath. “With the shoot starting tomorrow, I need to be on call for any last-minute problems.” Pulling back from their almost kiss, he rummaged in his shorts’ pocket for the phone as it rang again. He frowned, looked up at Ellie. “That’s not my ringtone. It’s some guy singing about taking a walk on the wild side.”
“Oh! That’s my Lou Reed ringtone.” She’d been in such a fog with Bill, she hadn’t recognized it. Didn’t mean she wanted to answer it. But then, Candy or Sara might need her. She retrieved the phone from her purse. “Hello?”
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