Ruined

by Shiloh Walker

  She was doing the same, her expression going tight as she slowly eased her skirt back down.

  Her eyes flicked in the direction of the phone before returning to him.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his hand down his face. Guilt slammed into him and he spun away. Sebastien could be a selfish bastard—the past year proved that—but one thing he’d never been was a poacher. If a woman was involved with somebody, then that woman was off limits and he was about ready to put his hands all over Marin.

  In fact, if Dash hadn’t called . . .

  “How serious are you?” he demanded, staring at the floor.

  “Sebastien—”

  “How serious?” He spun back around, raising his voice without intending to.

  Marin didn’t flinch, though. She lifted her chin, shoulders going back. “I’ve already discussed this. We had a date. We have another planned. I like him. He’s fun.” Then, eyes narrowing to slits, she added, “He doesn’t turn into a pissed-off grizzly when somebody doesn’t bow down and act the way he wants them to act.”

  Sebastien almost snarled, but the bear comment—one of several—hit home and he just clenched his jaw.

  “Maybe you should go.”

  “I came here to talk to you.” Marin slid off the counter, one hand going to smooth her skirt down, while the other absently went up to smooth her hair.

  That was a Hollywood queen for you, he thought. She always knew how to look her best, without even trying. “Yeah, because we’ve done so much talking—you coming into my bedroom while I was taking a shower.”

  She went red. “You didn’t close the door, you overgrown moron. I was talking to your mother when I came in and I didn’t realize until . . .”

  “Until what?” He came closer and lowered his face until he could breathe her in once more. “Until you saw me there, jacking off while I had the scent of you in my head and the thought of how you might taste burning a hole in me?”

  Marin’s eyes went opaque and it took everything he had not to reach for her and finish what they’d started.

  “You,” she said, voice shaking, “are a jackass. It was an accident.”

  “Yeah? How long did you stand there?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. While she stood there gaping, Sebastien struggled with the hunger inside him and wondered how he’d ever manage to be around her again without it destroying them both. Finally, she sputtered out, “It was hardly more than a few seconds. For goodness sake, Sebastien. You act like we’ve never seen each other naked. It’s not like I don’t know you have a dick.”

  Hearing those words on her lips exploded something inside his head and he almost reached for her—again.

  But he backed away instead.

  “You need to go,” he said carefully. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to put my hands on you again and I won’t stop until you’re under me and moaning my name. By the time I’m done, you won’t even remember anybody else’s.”

  Chin lifted mutinously, Marin glared at him. “Nice to know you’re still stuck in that teenage hormone rush, Sebastien. If you ever grow out of it, you’ll make some woman very happy one day.”

  He growled and took a step forward.

  Marin ignored him as she cut around the island and reached into the purse she’d left there earlier.

  “I wanted to bring this out to you—okay, no, I didn’t. JD wanted me to bring it. I told him it was a waste of time and that you’d given up.” She dumped something on the island and it didn’t take more than a second for him to recognize a script.

  “Take it back,” he said sourly. “I’m done.”

  Marin smiled at him sweetly. “That’s what I told him. You never see anything through when it gets too hard.”

  “Marin . . .”

  “It’s okay, honey. As you get older—”

  He lunged after her and she backed away, eyes widening slightly.

  Finally, she was getting it.

  He snatched up the script as she turned and walked away. “You forgot something.”

  She flipped him off over her shoulder.

  “I’d rather fuck you,” he shouted at her back.

  He waited for a response, but apparently she was done.

  He looked down at the script and in a fit of temper—mostly self-directed—he hurled it across the room. His home was done in an open-concept design and nothing separated the kitchen from the eating area or the living room. The heavy, bound stack of pages ended up by the aquarium and he continued to glare at it for untold minutes.

  It wasn’t until the alarm chimed, letting him know somebody had left the premises that he managed to snap himself out of it.

  Swearing, he dragged his hands down his face and then he made himself go over and pick up the script.

  When he saw the title, he almost dropped it.

  T O R N

  He didn’t drop the script, though. He’d throw it away. Maybe burn it in his fire pit.

  He might have been able to do it, too.

  But he saw the handwritten note next to the title of the script, which was typed in such stark font. By contrast, Marin’s handwriting stood out even more. He knew her writing as well as his own and he knew for a fact that she’d written this note well before their little . . . okay, big argument.

  Sebastien,

  Read the script. I know you wanted the part before, but it wasn’t right for you. Maybe you don’t want it now, but I can tell this part needs you, and I think you need it. This is your life and it’s time you come back to it. You’re missed, Seb. By a lot of us, and I’m not talking about your fans.We all miss you. Your friends miss you. Your family misses you. I miss you.

  I’m playing Marlena and I can’t think of anybody I’d rather have acting as the male lead other than you.

  You’re ready for this, Seb.

  Read the script.

  TTYS,

  Marin

  He gripped the script tighter, absently smoothing down pages he’d crumpled with his carelessness.

  He’d just mail it back to JD. Marin wouldn’t be back out here any time soon—if ever.

  He’d mail it back and tell JD he didn’t need a manager anymore.

  But that wasn’t what he did.

  He went straight into his office and sat down to read.

  Chapter Ten

  “I’m not going to invest the kind of time I do with you just out of pity. What we have is friendship. Not pity.”

  Friends . . . fuck. The last thing he wanted was to be her friend. But yeah, shit. Whatever. “Fine. So we’re friends.”

  She reached out and the light touch of her hand on his arm was enough to set his brain to buzzing. “You need to back away, Marin. The things I want from you are a lot more involved than friendship. My control is shit today. If you keep . . .”

  She was more potent than whiskey, sweeter than wine.

  And she tempted him. ”If I keep what, Sebastien?”

  “Back away, Marin,” he said in warning. “Or . . .”

  But she didn’t back away. Instead, when he pressed his mouth to her neck, she tilted her head back and he breathed in the scent of her. Her skin was so soft, so smooth. Under his hands, the narrow span of her ribcage felt fragile, but there was nothing fragile about her. Her fingers dug into his biceps and squeezed, her nails a soft little bite.

  He shoved up her skirt, baring her thighs, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Back away . . .” What was he doing? Telling her to stop him when this was what he wanted . . . needed? She was what . . . no, who, he wanted, needed. Craved. Burned for . . . yearned for.

  Marin pushed her hands into his hair. She tugged, hard. Blinking, he focused on her face.

  “Do you see me?” she demanded.

  Was she serious? “All the fucking time.”


  ***

  Another day. Another dream.

  He wouldn’t think much of it—after all, dreaming about Marin was a lot better than what usually filled his nights. Dreams where blood splattered across his field of vision, where he heard Monica scream, when he had the knife and drove it deep inside another person’s body.

  Yeah, he couldn’t say these new dreams were bad, and he definitely didn’t miss the nightmares.

  But things were different now.

  Marin had been here and she’d left that script and now his whole world was slanted a different way.

  Now Sebastien was somewhat punch-drunk and he was more than a little pleased with the fact that it had nothing to do with alcohol.

  He’d been up until almost three in the morning, and while normally that wouldn’t be a big deal for him, he’d given up on late nights a while ago, roughly the same time he’d given up on the alcohol.

  Giving up the alcohol had required he do something else to take the edge off so he’d turned to more intense exercise than even he was used to. He wasn’t working with a physical trainer now, but he’d done that enough to know how to work his ass into the ground. He fell back on the program he’d done when he’d played the part of a Navy SEAL—and added to it. Basically, he wore himself out during the day, didn’t eat worth shit—not part of the program—and then last night, he’d stayed up reading the script.

  Yeah, so he was punch-drunk.

  Top it off with another surreal dream about Marin.

  He swore if he licked his lips, he’d taste her.

  Because he’d almost be disappointed if he didn’t, the first thing he’d done was brush his teeth. Then, because his body felt heavier than a fucking ton of rocks, he headed into the kitchen and cooked a massive breakfast. If he was going to get back into it, he needed to start fueling his body, not just draining it.

  Besides, since he’d told himself he’d go see his folks and had forgotten once he got that script . . . well, he’d called instead. Mom had him on the phone for almost an hour and she’d made him promise he’d take better care of himself, so . . . yeah. Time to do that.

  He had to admit, the breakfast, followed by a disgusting mix of greens through the juicer, did wonders for the fog in his brain and he almost felt ready to take on the world.

  Almost.

  It wasn’t quite what he needed to take on Hollywood, but for now, all he had to do was talk to JD. And JD was relatively easy.

  On his way out of the kitchen, he grabbed his phone and made sure it was charged. The number of e-mails and unanswered texts, messages, and all that shit made him groan but he just ignored them. Finding his keys was harder, but he did finally find them, tossing them in the air absently as he looked around for his wallet.

  Once he’d located that, he hit the lights and turned to go.

  The phone vibrated in his back pocket, startling him—strange how easy it was to get accustomed to being out of contact. A year ago, that buzzing wouldn’t have surprised him at all, but today, it caught him off guard enough that he dropped his keys. They hit the floor and he grumbled under his breath, feeling like an idiot because immediately after the keys fell, he realized what the vibration in his pocket had come from. As he drew the phone out, he looked around for his keys and accidentally kicked them under the sofa.

  “Hello.”

  There was a faint pause before Zach said, “Wow. You answered your phone.”

  “Ah. Yeah. What’s up?”

  “Well, ah . . .” Zach’s words ended up trailing off into a bemused laugh. “Here’s the thing. We all take turns calling you every week to just try and . . . I dunno. Get you to answer the phone. But I didn’t have anything in mind to say, really.”

  “Zach, you’ve always got something to say.” Sebastien knelt down by the couch and swept under it for the keys but they were too far under and his arm was too big. Grunting, he put the phone down and put Zach on speaker.

  “Well, usually I have something to say. Gimme a second . . . it’s coming back to me. Okay, what are you up to today, Seb?”

  Sebastien shifted around a little, checked to see where the keys were before he answered. “I’m . . . uh . . . well, I’m driving into LA.”

  “Just getting out of the house for a while?”

  Sebastien scowled as he lifted the couch up. It wasn’t heavy but it was awkward. Fortunately, the keys weren’t hard to reach now. He snagged them and started to lower the couch when something caught his eye. Sparkly gems reflected the dim light back at him, set in metal the color of old gold. Memory flickered.

  “So?”

  Zach’s voice was a buzzing in his ear. “I’m going to talk to JD, Zach,” Sebastien said without really thinking about it. He couldn’t reach the hair clip. Lowering the couch, he shoved it forward, not caring if the wooden feet scratched his custom hardwood floors—and they did. He saw the clip and snagged it while Zach started making demands in his ear.

  “Come on, you stubborn bastard. What are you going to talk to JD for?”

  Realizing that Zach had probably asked that question—or variations—of it several times over, Sebastien mulled over his answer with half his brain. The other half was focused on the clip. Where had he seen it before? He couldn’t remember, but he knew he’d seen it.

  He dropped it on the table while Zach continued to nag him.

  “Sebastien, spill it!”

  “He sent me a script, Zach. I’m going to talk to him.”

  ***

  Marin was pissed.

  Still pissed, almost a full day later, but that didn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done.

  She’d finished up a project three weeks before and was supposed to start another in a week, but thanks to a medical problem—aka the female lead was in rehab—that project had gone to the back burner.

  Her schedule was clear.

  That meant once she dealt with things here, she could disappear for a while.

  And man did she need to.

  JD sat across from her, his eyes shrewd as he studied her. “Is everything okay?

  “It’s fine. I’m just feeling at loose ends now. You know how I am when I don’t have things to do. But I’m going to fly to my place in the Smokies and just take some time off.” Marin offered a smile that probably looked convincing enough. “It’s been a rough year.”

  He nodded, not looking convinced. “I take it things didn’t go well with Sebastien.”

  “No.” Getting up, she moved over to the window and stared outside. “Things didn’t go at all well with Sebastien.”

  “I was afraid of that. Did he finally decide to start tearing into you, too?”

  She glanced back at him with a faint smile. “Not like he does with everybody else.” She wasn’t about to tell her manager that she and Sebastien probably would have had sex on the counter in his kitchen if Dash hadn’t interrupted them with his call.

  When he didn’t answer right away, she went back to staring out over LA. JD had most of the top floor for his agency and his office had been tucked into the southwest corner, facing out over the sprawl that was Los Angeles, California. On a clear day, Marin could stand at those windows and see forever.

  More often than not, she saw smog.

  Today, it was rain. An unseasonably chilly front had moved through, and the change in Los Angeles’s normally mild weather had people rushing for their designer coats.

  But Marin had driven here in just a light sweater, the cool temperatures making her think of chilly fall days back in the Smoky Mountains before her parents had decided to move to LA when she was still a child.

  She still went back to Tennessee on a regular basis and she kept a home there in addition to a cabin she’d bought in the Rockies and her town house in New York. She liked feeling at home when she traveled. So naturally, she just bought homes in
the places where she was at most often. Hotels sucked.

  “You look tired, Marin.”

  She made a face at her manager over her shoulder. “I am tired. I didn’t spend the night in one place for more than three weeks while we were finishing everything for the opening of Whiskey Row and as soon as that was done, I was back to filming. Won’t be too long before I’ll be called back for the postproduction work, and then it will be time to gear up for the prerelease madness.” She shrugged and went back to staring out into the rain. It had been raining for nearly an hour and it made her wish she was at home with a book and a cup of coffee, not dealing with business. “But I’ll have plenty of time to rest as soon as I’m done here.”

  “Your vacation.” JD nodded as he got up from behind his desk. He refreshed his coffee and poured her a cup without asking, bringing it to her after he’d doctored it with cream.

  She accepted and took a sip. It didn’t hit with quite the same zing as always. Her stomach had been acting up on her the past couple days. Just another thing to lay at Sebastien’s feet.

  If only he wasn’t a jerk. If only he wasn’t still in love with Monica.

  Her eyes started to burn, but she refused to linger on any of that. She’d cry him out of her system while she was taking some time off.

  Putting the coffee down, she sighed. “Look, maybe in a few more months, you can try again. Right now, Sebastien is just too . . .”

  “Angry?” JD offered when she couldn’t find the right word.

  “Well . . .” She remembered the frenzied passion between them and how it had turned so quickly to anger. But was anger really at the root of it all? She didn’t know. “I’m not sure if he knows how he feels right now.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t,” JD said, moving to join her at the window. “But sitting at home and refusing to come back to his life isn’t helping, either.”

  “I know.” Without lifting her head, she shifted her gaze to the endless wall of rain. “But I think it’s getting better. He’s heading out to see his folks—or at least thinking about it. That’s more than he’s been willing to do in a while.”

  JD nodded, but his expression remained grim. “This isn’t just about the movie, you know that, right?”