“Tell me something, Marin. You’ve got some . . .” Sojo ran her tongue across her teeth. “Information that we’ve been protecting. Do I need to be careful of what I say here?”
“They both know,” she said, irritated already.
“Excellent.” The way Sojo’s golden eyes gleamed made Marin feel like she’d just been cornered by a lioness.
As the woman leaned forward, Marin wondered if maybe this was what a mouse felt like when it was being stalked by the house cat. The idea pissed her off and she squared her shoulders, realizing she’d been slinking back into the cushions of the couch.
“Any idea what these two school boys were fighting about, Marin?” Sojo asked.
“Well . . .” Marin drew the word out slowly. “I can’t speak as to what was going on in Dash’s mind, although from what I could tell, he was just taunting Sebastien. Sebastien was the one who started it.”
“Indeed.” Sojo’s smile widened. “And just what do you think was going on in his mind?”
“He hasn’t had a good brawl with his brothers in a while,” Marin said sourly. “He probably needs one of them to come up here and knock him around, help him blow off steam. Maybe he saw Dash and thought a fight would do him good.”
Dash tried to turn his laugh into a cough, but it didn’t work.
Marin didn’t look at him.
Sojo arched a brow. “You really think this was about Sebastien needing to . . . brawl?”
“You don’t know him like I do.” Giving Sojo an innocent look, she lifted a shrug. “I was around all of them growing up. It was like if they didn’t fight once or twice a week, they stopped getting oxygen to their brains. And he hasn’t spent much time around his family lately.”
Sojo looked like she wanted to laugh, but she didn’t.
Throughout all of this, Sebastien stood stone-faced, staring at the wall, saying nothing.
He might have gone on saying nothing if Sojo hadn’t shifted her tawny eyes his way and said in a silky voice, “Well, Sebastien?”
“Well, what?” He sounded bored, like she wanted to discuss the weather.
“Are you just suffering from a massive testosterone buildup? I could call Zach, see if he’d fly out here for a tussle. If I’d known that was the case, I would have told Abigale to make sure he came with her. It could be fun . . . and a fascinating promo for the movie.” Sojo studied him the way one might examine a rare and strange insect.
Marin really didn’t envy him.
But she had to admire him. Maybe it was because he’d been the object of such intense female scrutiny before. After all, Denise Barnes had one hell of a look and Sebastien had been known to end up on the wrong side of his mom before.
All he did was slant a look at Sojo and shrug.
“What does that shrug mean?” she asked. “Yes, you are suffering from testosterone poisoning? Yes, I should call Zach? Give me something here, Sebastien. Otherwise, I might start speculating.”
“Speculate all you want, Sojo. I’m not the problem here.” He jerked his chin toward Dash. “Casanova over there is.”
“Hey!” Dash pressed a hand to his chest. “I don’t think I deserve that.”
He grumbled under his breath and it was so quiet, Marin knew neither Sebastien nor Sojo could have heard it. She did, though and she almost choked. “I haven’t gotten laid in almost six months . . . I’m going to have to turn in my Casanova card, asshole.”
Marin hid her smile behind her hand as Sojo angled a look at Dash. “What was that?”
“Oh. Nothing, general.”
That didn’t settle quite so well with Sojo. She was well aware of her nickname and honestly, Marin thought she appreciated it—in private. But she didn’t appreciate it as much when it was laid out in front of her. Still, she didn’t address it. Instead, she kept her attention mostly focused on Sebastien. “Just how do you figure that Dash is to blame for the fact that you grabbed him—while he had his back turned, no less—and threw him to the ground? Really, Sebastien. That’s not like you.”
Marin saw the temper burning in Sebastien’s eyes and she started to shift uneasily on the chair, wondering if she should say something, do something.
“Yeah, Seb,” Dash asked, his voice sly. He scraped his fingers down his jaw, lightly raking the faint stubble his part in the movie called for. “Why don’t you tell Sojo and Marin just why I’m to blame for this . . . mess?”
His eyes gleamed and Marin could feel the pit of her stomach dropping out.
“Dash.”
He shot her a look and she read all sorts of trouble in it.
He’d held her while she cried the night before and then demanded she lay things out for him. Why does he think I am the father, Marin? You slept with him, right?
It had taken her some time to screw up the courage, but eventually, she’d laid it all out and Dash, God love him, had listened, nodded, patted her back. Then he’d called her an idiot and told her she had to tell Sebastien. Immediately. She’d reiterated that she’d been trying.
Apparently Dash decided he’d just pave the way for her.
I’m going to kill you, she mouthed.
She had a good feeling he knew exactly what she’d said because he said softly, “You’ll thank me eventually, darling.”
Sojo took in this exchange with no comment but before either of them could say anything else, she pointed a finger at Marin. “Be quiet.” That finger then arrowed in Sebastien’s direction. “Out with it. Just why is Dash to blame for you acting like a Neanderthal?”
“Shit, are you blind?” Sebastien shifted on his feet, one big shoulder moving in a restless shrug. “She was awake half the night crying. She’s not sleeping all that great to begin with and I was figuring it was because of the baby, but now I think it’s because that dick can’t keep his dick in his pants.” Sebastien gave Dash a look that should have skewered him.
Except Dash had nothing to feel guilty over. Rising from his chair, Dash smacked his palms against his thighs as if dusting them off. “See, this is where you’re messing up, Seb. It’s not my dick that caused this.” He looked over at Marin, offered a faint smile as if to say, Sorry, darling.
Marin just covered her eyes.
“Huh.” That was the only noise to penetrate the silence.
Marin parted her fingers, peering at Sojo through the crack. The woman had stood up and was shaking her head, looking both bemused and frustrated. “Well, I’ll give you credit, Sebastien. If that’s what you’re thinking, I can see how you might be pissed off. But how about you take your head out of your ass?” Then she leveled a finger at Marin. “And you . . . clear the air. Come on, Dash. We’re going to do some fast-talking and change up the schedule. These two need to talk. Marin won’t give me much but shit work today if she doesn’t deal with this.”
Sebastien still hadn’t said a blessed thing.
While the other two left, Marin rose, smoothing her robe down. “I’m going to my trailer,” she said calmly.
She was out the door, had almost closed it before he snapped out of whatever fugue he was in. But by the time he was moving and calling her name, she was already outside and Sebastien was smart enough to know that having this out—whatever this was—where everybody on set could see them wasn’t ideal. He caught up to her easily, his long strides eating up the ground. Tension all but emanated from him and it was hard not to respond to it, but Marin kept her movements casual and unhurried.
“I’m coming with you,” he announced unnecessarily.
“Really.” She glanced over at him. “I wouldn’t have ever guessed.”
They said nothing else until they were inside her trailer but once she’d closed—and locked—the door, Sebastien rounded on her, his blue-green eyes burning bright. “What in the fuck did he mean by that? He can’t mean he’s not the dad. You told me he was.”
Sebastien screwed up his face, scowling at her. “What in the hell do you mean no? No, what?”
“No,” she repeated. “As in no, I didn’t tell you that he was the father.”
“Yes, you did.” He took a step toward her.
Marin held up a hand, and although she couldn’t understand why, she felt like smiling, so she did. “Let me refresh your memory, shall I? I had just finishing puking up everything I’d eaten in the past decade—or so it felt. Dash had come by and he’d seen my vitamins, just like you did. FYI, that’s when he found out. Both of you are nosy bastards, really. He was there when it hit me—he opened a bottle of beer and the smell just gagged me. You said you heard shouting, it was probably him. He was worried when I suddenly took off running for the bathroom. It freaked him out and he called out after me. You came barging in—like a Neanderthal— saw him with me and you assumed.”
He went to interrupt. “Oh, I’m not done, honey,” she said, slashing a hand through the air.
Sebastien clamped his mouth shut and lifted his chin.
“Then, while my head is still spinning, trying to figure out how to explain . . .” She sighed and the weight of everything crashed down on her. The sleeplessness from the previous night caught up with her, her fear over how he was going to react . . . all of it. Pressing her fingertips to her eyes, she leaned back against the counter.
She sniffed and irritation exploded when she realized how watery it sounded. Damn it, she was not crying again.
“Ah . . . Marin? Hell, you’re not crying, are you?” He looked at her uneasily and when he shot a look toward the door, she thought she might grab something heavy and hit him.
Bad enough that every time she’d tried to tell him, he’d just avoided her—or he’d been letting Evie give him a good look at her tits. Now he was looking panicky because she was getting a little upset?
“Guess what, Sebastien? I’m pregnant!” She shouted it loud enough that he winced. She realized she probably needed to get her temper under control and it was entirely likely that her secret wasn’t so secret now—these trailers weren’t exactly made with shouting in mind. But just then she didn’t care.
That one rational part of her mind sighed and flung up her hands. You will . . .
“Marin, come on, now . . .” He took a step toward. He shot a look toward the window and offered her the same charming smile he’d used to get himself out of trouble a hundred times.
It wasn’t working. She pointed a finger at him. “Bite me. You insisted on coming with me. You wanted me to explain, guess what? That’s what I’m going to do and if I start crying, it’s your fault.”
“I’m not trying to make you cry!” Sebastien said. He jammed his hands into his pockets, looking put out.
“You can’t tell by me! Avoiding me all the time, letting Evie rub her tits all over you—pushing me toward Dash all the time.”
“He—” Sebastien clamped his jaw shut just before he could finish.
“Smart man,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted the damn robe off. It was annoying her, but they were shooting—or supposed to be shooting one of the scenes where somebody broke in on her while she was changing and Sebastien’s character rode in to save the day. She was wearing only a bra and panties for it, up until he grabbed clothes for her to put on, right before hauling her out of the house. Under the robe, all she wore were the bra and panties. Sojo had announced, privately, that they would get any scene that involved her scantily clad out of the way early on. Since the robe was supposed to protect the lingerie and she needed the lingerie for today’s work, she was stuck. She wasn’t about to have this argument—discussion—whatever—with Sebastien while she was in her panties.
Sebastien finally spoke and this time it was through clenched teeth. “How about you explain to me how you didn’t tell me he was the dad, because I distinctly remember . . .”
His voice trailed off and Marin cocked a brow. Propping her hands on her hips, she started to tap her foot. “Yes? You distinctly remember . . . ?”
It was almost cute, how he glared at her for a minute and then spun away. Stalking over to the window, he stared outside, although she doubted he was seeing anything out there.
“Let me refresh your memory. You decided that congratulations were in order—for both of us. Even though we both tried to cut you off, you just kept going and before I could correct you, you just climbed on your high horse and rode on out of there. I even chased after you, trying to catch up with you on the porch and you didn’t want to wait—not even for two minutes.”
“I was fucking jealous!” he shouted, spinning around to glare at her. “I’ve had a thing for you for as long as I can remember and there you were—” He stopped, sucking a breath and blowing it out so hard, his entire body worked with the movement. “I was jealous, okay? So maybe I assumed it was Dash’s. You were dating him and . . .”
“One or two dates doesn’t exactly paint us as any sort of fixture, Sebastien. I haven’t even slept with him if you must know.” Her heart was twisting in her throat now. The look in his eyes wasn’t that much different than if somebody had knocked him across the head, but she was too busy processing what he had said. “What . . . you . . . just what does that mean that you had a thing for me? You were . . .”
She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve been all shut down over the past year because of Monica. You were going to ask her to marry you.”
For a moment, Sebastien said nothing. He looked like he was still taking in everything that had been said in the past few minutes. Finally, he sighed. “Hell, Marin.”
As she watched, he moved over to the couch and dropped down, scraping short nails down his jaw and drawing attention the fact that he, like Dash, was expected to be scruffy-looking for much of this movie. Dash, whether he had five o’clock—or even ten o’clock shadow—still managed to look pretty. A year ago, she might have been able to say the same about Sebastien.
Now he looked dangerous. Heart-stopping. Breath-stealing. The scar stretched from his left eye down his cheek, almost to his mouth, paler against his tanned skin and that imperfection somehow just drew more attention to the surreal beauty of his face. He was still beautiful. She knew he didn’t see it, but he was still so beautiful. His eyes came up to hers and the hard sigh that left him seemed to come from the very bottom of his soul. “I did love Monica. But I was a kid when we hooked up and what I was looking for . . . Shit, it wasn’t what you need to make it last. I get that now. I know the difference. I . . .” He looked away, then. “We don’t need to do this. Look, I care about you. Maybe a little too much and it was rubbing me wrong thinking that Dash and you were . . . well . . . Top that off with the fact that the hound dog can’t keep it in his pants and that’s why I was going nuclear. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to him and I’ll . . . I’ll get my head straight. I thought I was getting better at that, but guess not.”
He shoved upright, the muscles in his arms straining against the sleeves of his white T-shirt. He started toward the door.
Marin said softly, “You’re always trying to walk away when I’m trying to tell you things. I wasn’t done talking to you yet, Sebastien.”
One big hand clenched at his side. “Marin . . .”
“Sebastien . . .” She echoed his low tone as she moved closer. “Here’s the thing. You . . . well, you need to hear what I’m saying, okay?”
He turned slowly, facing her.
“Yeah? Why is that?”
Marin licked her lips and went to slide her hands into her pockets, only to remember she was in t
he dumb robe.She looked down at it, and then shook her head. Pointing at him, she said, “Don’t leave. Otherwise, I’ll just hunt you down and if we end up having this out on the damn set, you’ll be sorry.”
He grumbled behind her and she moved down the short hall to the small bedroom the trailer was equipped with. There, she had a real robe, not that pitiful excuse for one and she shrugged out of it, reaching for hers just as Sebastien appeared in the doorway. She caught sight of him and stilled.
His eyes slid down, lingering on her breasts.
Hurriedly, she grabbed her robe and jammed her arms into the sleeves. “Damn it, Sebastien.”
Heat burned in his eyes. “Sorry.” Then, in a mocking echo of the words she’d flung at him weeks before, he said, “It’s not like I haven’t seen you all naked before.”
“That’s not the point.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she remembered those seconds where she’d seen him fisting his cock, pumping up and down.
His pupils dilated and for a second, she thought he’d make a move toward her, but all he did was close his eyes, then shake his head. When he looked back at her, that heat was gone and there was a tight, curious blankness to his face.
It pissed her off.
It pissed her off enough that she left the robe hanging open as she slid past him, swaying just a little too close. Her left breast brushed against his arm and while she’d been prepared for the contact, it still sent a jolt through her.
Sebastien hadn’t been prepared.
His body stiffened. She glanced up at him. “Excuse me.”
Nostrils flared, he stared at her. The harsh rise of color in his cheeks, the way his pupils grew so large and intense, the black all but swallowing the blue-green of his irises.
Raw, sexual hunger arced between them. It was palpable. If the very air around them had caught on fire, she wouldn’t have been surprised. She suspected if she leaned in and kissed him, he’d have her pressed to the wall at her back in five seconds. He’d be inside her within fifteen.
And nothing would be solved.
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