“Don’t tax yourself. It’ll come to you.” The heavy gold ring on the small finger of Jack’s left hand needed careful adjustment. Then he looked sharply at Nasty. “I make it part of my job to be sure nothing upsets Polly. She’s temperamental— most actresses are. And she means a great , deal to me. If I thought someone was interfering with her peace of mind, I’d have to step in and sort that out.”
The man might be strong. He was not, and never could be, any match for Nasty Ferrito. Very slowly, Nasty gathered his feet under him and rose. “What made you decide to come here this morning?” he asked softly. He had a head and shoulders on Spinnel.
“I’m the one asking questions.”
“You were the one asking questions,” Nasty corrected him. “Now I’m asking. There’s no law against taking a Zodiac along the waterfront.”
“There’s a law against stalking women.”
Nasty stepped close enough to make the other man have to raise his chin. “Do you want to rethink what you just suggested?”
“You don’t frighten me.” The sound of Spinnel swallowing made a liar of him.
Nasty smiled. “Of course I don’t. Brave dude like you wouldn’t be scared of anything. Too important, right? Too used to getting your way. Too used to pushing people around and having them be grateful for the honor.”
“I didn’t come here for a fight.”
Dusty snickered.
“Just as well,” Nasty remarked. “You’d go away disappointed. You will anyway, but only because I make it a rule not to hit weaker opponents. Get out. Don’t come back.”
“Look here—”
“Out,” Nasty said, turning away and opening a door.
Spinnel’s attempt at nonchalance failed. His hands shook as he pushed them into his pockets. “I’ll go. Because I want to. I’ve got a show to direct. I’ve said what I came to say. I’m heading you off at the pass. Just remember that.”
“I can’t seem to make out a word you say.”
“Stay away from that dock, or I’ll have to warn Polly not to walk out there.”
“Did Polly ask you to come here?”
“Just stay away.”
“In other words, she didn’t. You’d lie and say she did anyway, but you’re afraid I’d find out you were lying. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not the one who needs to be afraid.” The sun shone on Spinnel’s impressive dome. He walked out, but jammed a foot in the door when Nasty would have shut it behind him. “You’re being watched. Remember that. Every move you make, I’ll know about it. Don’t go near Polly again.”
Either Polly had mentioned Nasty’s approach last night, or her boss made it his business to watch every move his star made—and every move made in her direction.
“I’ll have my assistant call you about a segment. Do we have an agreement?” Tension tightened the skin around Spinnel’s eyes. He really didn’t want anyone going near Polly.
Nasty had never walked away from a challenge. “We’d love to talk to your assistant,” he said. “We’ll look forward to it.” And he intended to find out if Polly enjoyed having Jack Spinnel as a personal keeper.
He heard Jack let out a breath as if he’d just won the battle. “Great. Just great. I knew you’d see this my way.”
“Oh, I see everything real clearly now, Jack.”
Jack giggled. “Yeah, well, we’ll be talking. I’ve got a lot of clout around here, Ferrito, a lot of clout.”
“I’ll just bet you do.”
“People do what I tell them to do.” Spreading his arms, he backed away. “They know better than to mess with me.” He bumped into the wing of the Mercedes, and sent a lopsided grin in Nasty’s direction before vaulting into the driver’s seat.
Nasty let the door swing shut and turned his back as the powerful engine burst to life.
“Better not mess with Jack,” Dusty said sweetly. “He might hurt you.”
Three
Gavin Tucker paced back and forth on the set, stopping from time to time to glare in the direction of each door into the soundstage. He tossed aside one of the big brushes he used to paint scenes live on camera.
“Can’t you calm him down?” Mary Reese asked Polly. “I: don’t know what’s got into him. He’s always so laid-back. Gavin! Cool it, will you?”
“Piss off, Mary, darling,” was Gavin’s response. He didn’t as much as check his stride.
“And the same to you, darling,” Mary said. “Why don’t you whitewash the john while you’re at it. If that won’t tax your talent too far.”
Gavin rolled his brown eyes and extended a hand pleadingly toward Polly. “Shut her up, pet. My nerves are stretched to the max this morning. I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
The camera crew lounged around their equipment, and makeup hovered near Polly. “Where’s Jack, anyway,” she asked Mary. “He’s never late.”
“He is today,” Mary said through her teeth. “He knows we’ve got a tight schedule.”
Polly stopped herself from asking Mary what was holding her lover up. She assumed everyone knew Mary and Jack lived together, but the fact was never mentioned.
Mary looked at her watch. “This is costing money.” She snapped her fingers. “Places, people. Let’s at least be ready to go. We’ll take a walk-through.”
Grateful to stop watching Gavin pound to and fro, Polly assumed her spot beside a park bench and ducked her head while a hairdresser draped hair behind one ear.
Makeup brushed blush over her cheekbones, powdered her nose, and went to repeat the process with Gavin.
“This is about fall,” Mary called. “About getting ready to go back to school. Saying good-bye to kids who visited their divorced parents for the summer. Children coming back after visiting a parent. Acceptance. Caring. Learning to appreciate the positives. Supporting the underdog. Being open to change. Love and friendship.”
“Sickening,” Gavin murmured. “Sugar drips around here.”
“You were saying?” Mary shouted from out front.
“Sweet,” Gavin said loudly. “I was saying this is going to be a really sweet segment. Give me a big kiss, Polly, pet. In the spirit of love and friendship.”
Polly had fallen into Gavin’s love and friendship traps before. Just thinking about his tongue in her throat made her feel ill.
“Come on, pet,” he wheedled, approaching with outstretched arms. “Just to pass the time. I’m sooo bored.”
“Cut it out,” she told him tersely.
He came close and hitched his slim rump on the back of the bench. Tall, whip-thin, and deceptively languid, sharp intellect and a devilish grin saved Gavin’s long face from being unremarkable.
“Polly, you are driving me nuts,” he told her. “Let’s go to bed.”
She didn’t bother to answer.
“You know you want me,” he said softly. “Why keep holding out?”
Polly laughed. “Save the jokes for the camera.”
“Did I say something funny?”
“I’m sure you meant it to be funny.”
He touched the side of her face, and his lips tightened when she flinched. “You’re the only thing that makes this job bearable.”
“Thank you.” Her skin crawled. When he wasn’t making a pass, Gavin could be a nice guy, likable. “You’re fabulously gifted. I like working with you.” That was true.
His features softened. “Ditto, pet. Oh, ditto, ditto. Wouldn’t you like to try your wings outside this little burb?”
“No,” she told him honestly. “The show’s national. I don’t have to go anywhere. I like this little burb. I like the show— and what it stands for.”
“Family values? Honor and truth?”
She wished she could put more distance between them without drawing the attention of the crew. “I think those are great values to present to children. It’ll all start with them.”
“What’ll start with them? Slow death by sugar-coating?”
“If you hate it so m
uch, why do you stay?”
He smoothed the backs of his fingers along her jaw. “I’ve already told you. I’d like to paint you, pet. Preferably nude.”
“Stop it,” she whispered. “You’re a very talented man. You’re the most talented person on the show. They need you, and I hope you stay. But I don’t want this from you.”
“This?” He raised one sandy brow. “What can you mean? A little harmless, friendly patter? Surely you don’t begrudge a man some entertainment.”
Polly made a great deal of ensuring her striped shirt was tucked into her jeans.
“Come to L.A. with me, pretty Polly.”
She froze. Her scalp prickled.
“Hey, hey,” Gavin said, looking closely into her face. “You okay? You look ill. Or are you overwhelmed with excitement because I’ve just suggested what you’ve always wanted to do?”
“…pretty Polly.” As she looked at Gavin, his eyes seemed to expand.
He took her by the shoulders. “Polly? What is it?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Pretty Polly was something she’d been teased with all her life. She was starting to see bogeymen everywhere she looked, and it had to stop.
“Calling Polly!” A crew member approached with a cordless phone in hand.
Polly smiled at him and took the set. “Polly Crow here.”
She heard a sound as if the caller clicked his tongue. There was a short laugh, then a dial tone. Polly waited a moment, then looked at the earpiece. “Are you sure someone asked for me?” The unpleasant flip in her stomach was too familiar.
The man frowned. “Sure I’m sure.”
Polly shrugged. “They hung up.” She handed back the phone, hoping she looked more unconcerned than she felt. “Thanks.”
Encased in red-and-yellow-striped spandex, Art Loder wandered onto the set, with his sister Jennifer trailing behind. Carrying their shaggy red costume heads, they were dressed as Down and Out, the much-beloved Main Monsters of Polly’s Place fame.
“Oh, goody,” Gavin murmured. “Here come the cutesy Aussie twins. It’s show time, folks.”
“Put a sock in it,” Polly told him. Who was tormenting her? Why didn’t he stop?
Gavin kissed her cheek, and let his mouth linger near her ear. “I bet you didn’t say that to the dive boy, my pet.”
She jumped away from him.
“Hey, mates,” Art said before Polly had a chance to ask Gavin what he meant. “What’s the bother, then? It’s bloody hot hanging around like this. Where’s Jackie?”
“How should we bloody know where your old mate is?” Gavin asked, aping Art’s accent.
Brother and sister were close to the same height, close to six feet, and very athletic. Among their credits were stints as circus performers in their native Australia and around the world. The show provided a perfect forum for spectacular acrobatic and dancing skills.
Jennifer grinned at Polly. The other woman had a wry sense of humor and had become a good friend. Jennifer had been with Polly the first time she heard the man on the answering machine. Jennifer had agreed that the less said about it, the better.
As she’d done so often, Polly considered who might be making the calls. Yet again, she came up empty of ideas—except for the ridiculous notion about the diver.
An outer door opened and thundered shut again. Frowning ominously, Jack strode through the jumble of wardrobe, props, equipment, and crew and fell into his chair. He ignored everyone and picked up the day’s script.
All eyes turned to Mary.
Mary advanced on Jack. She tossed back her curly auburn hair and swung her hips with each exaggeratedly deliberate step.
“Uh-oh,” Art said very quietly. “Might be time for us chickens to go on a walkabout.”
“And miss the show?” Jennifer said. “Never. She’s going to chew the bastard up and swallow him. Rather her than me, mates.”
Colorful language—and fantastic physical power and grace— added up to the Loders’ considerable, but only outstanding features. Hazel-eyed and brown-haired, with pleasant but ordinary faces, once out of the red-and-yellow costumes they’d never be noticed in a crowd.
Polly shrugged away from Gavin and sat on the bench. Thank God this wasn’t a day when they were doing a live shoot—and that they already had several shows in the can.
“I had business to attend to,” Jack shouted suddenly. “Am I supposed to ask your permission before I make a move?”
“Keep your voice down.” Mary didn’t. Fury emanated from her short, voluptuous body. “It could have waited—if it was something you had to do at all.”
“I had to do it. Let’s get on with this.”
Art and Jennifer put on their heads and broke into a series of tumbling falls.
“Cut!” Mary swung toward the set. “Take the day off.”
“Places,” Jack shouted. “Now!”
“Clear the goddamn set,” Mary said. “Go on. Clear out.”
Jack shot to his feet. “We don’t have time to take a day off. And you don’t give the orders around here.”
“If you don’t want…” Mary’s remarkable turquoise eyes glittered. “Don’t turn this into a bigger mistake than it already is, Jack.”
He threw the script on the seat of his chair and stalked to brace his weight against a wall. “I hate jealous bitches,” he ground out. “This is my show. Get it? Mine. You don’t like it—I find another writer.”
“Like hell.” Brilliant color suffused Mary’s pale, freckled skin. “You’re full of it, Jack. You may be the producer and director. I’m the story chief. And I’m your skin. Jack. Without me, you bleed.”
Jennifer and Art dropped to sit on the floor. The camera crews drifted toward the back of the soundstage.
“Children,” Gavin called sweetly. “Why don’t we all play together nicely. We’re going to teach the little darlings about love and acceptance. Isn’t that right, Mary, dear?”
Polly held her breath. She wanted out of here, and she wanted to stop looking for crazies around every comer.
Jack and Mary ignored Gavin’s interruption.
“Don’t stir it up,” Polly told him, letting breath out again. “Maybe we should just melt out of here.”
Mary stood very close to Jack, and said, “Where were you? Who were you with?”
“None of your…” Jack tilted his chin up. “Give it up, Mary.”
“Why are you doing this?” Mary asked. “It was something to do with her, wasn’t it? You ignored what I told you and went to talk to him about—”
“Shut up,” Jack told her, his teeth bared. “I don’t need your permission to do what the hell I like.”
“Don’t you?” Mary closed in on him. “Are you sure you don’t want to revise that? You do if you want things to keep running smoothly around here.”
“Ugly beast, is jealousy,” Gavin commented. “Makes the shrew forget to be careful what she says.”
“What is she jealous of?”
Gavin sat down on the bench and put an arm around Polly’s shoulders. “You really don’t know, do you? Amazing. That’s what I like best about you. You’re so naive.”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re suggesting,” Polly said, edging away.
He gripped her shoulder. “Let’s just say it could be a great idea if you and I showed Mary she’s got nothing to be jealous about.”
Polly stared at him. Then she stared at Jack and Mary. “Yeah,” Gavin said. “That’s what I mean. That’s what she thinks.”
“But I’m here. I’ve been here. How can she think he’s been with me?”
“She doesn’t. Not this morning, anyway. But I think I know what she does think. Let’s change her mind.”
“There’s nothing to change her mind about.”
“She thinks there is,” Gavin said. “She thinks Jack’s in love with you. Lust with you. We can make her feel a whole lot better by showing her we’re the swirl flavor of the month.” Polly turned her fac
e up to his—and gasped as his mouth closed over hers.
Daylight felt so much safer. Daylight and lots of people around. Polly crossed to Lakeview Drive and strolled along the shop fronts. Cars jammed the narrow street. The day was warmer than any during the previous week. Bare tanned arms and legs were in evidence again. Young laughter rippled among sidewalk throngs. Kirkland’s quaintly trendy atmosphere drew gaggles of well-heeled people from the surrounding areas.
Relaxing took deliberate effort. She let her shoulders drop and concentrated on breathing from her stomach. The morning’s shoot had been an almost complete disaster. Gavin’s segment had gone well enough. He’d painted a backdrop of trees, their leaves turning gold, while Down and Out pretended misery at being shunned. Then war broke out again between Mary and Jack.
Polly had excused herself and left.
She couldn’t put the latest telephone contact out of her mind.
The smell of fresh-baked bread drifted from a patisserie to mingle with the aroma of good coffee. Normal pleasures on a normal day. She had to stop letting that creep get to her. That’s what he wanted—to make her miserable.
Polly stopped to look at paintings in a gallery window. Seascapes were big here. And wolves. She stared at a pack of wolves among bare sapling trunks, in the snow. The desolation, and beauty of the scene tightened her throat.
Another browser stopped beside her, and she felt a harmony in their joint silence.
Above the group wolf painting, hung another of a single animal peering from the shelter of a rock. Polly looked from the animal’s light, piercing eyes, to the eyes of the person beside her.
He looked back at her.
“Crumb,” she said very faintly, scarcely able to breathe. “You just… appear.” She glanced down, half-expecting him to be barefoot. He wore tennis shoes.
“I followed you here,” he said with no sign of remorse on his coldly handsome face. “You were preoccupied. That’s why you didn’t hear me.”
“Did you leave messages on my answering machine?” she asked, blurting out the question before she could consider the wisdom of caution. “Did you call me this morning and hang up?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“As if you’d admit it.” Gathering what poise she could muster, Polly walked on.
Guilty Pleasures Page 4