"Oh no, I’m sure it’s nothing like that…I mean…" Brianna shot Rollo a look of panic. He stepped in and changed the subject to his favorite Louis L'Amour book. Once they made it outside, Brianna let out a whoosh of breath.
"This isn’t good. Melvin Turner doesn't want anyone to know that's not his real name. Oops. Not even you." She shook her head, the bright gingery waves gleaming in the afternoon sun. "But if Mrs. Murphy knows, everyone will. I'd better warn him right away. He’s been acting so strange lately. I’m really starting to worry. And why was someone asking about him? I don’t like this."
"You’d better tell me all about it. Coffee at Evie's?"
"Oh." Her cheeks turned pink and she gave him a flustered smile. "I really can't. Million things to do today. Say hi to Evie, though!" And she hurried down the street. A few minutes later, he saw her Toyota truck rattling down Constellation Way.
She was definitely avoiding him.
Except at night.
Every night, Brianna came to him in his dreams. She danced right up to him, laughing, teasing. Hoisted herself on the kitchen counter, legs dangling. Somehow they were always bare. Sometimes she arrived naked and climbed into his bed. Straddled him, all golden and freckled and mouthwatering. He'd lift his hands to her perky breasts. Joy and peace would flood his being. He'd fill his arms with her sweetness and warmth. And he'd be happy.
Until he woke up and remembered that he and Brianna weren't together anymore. Every morning, he picked up the phone to call Cornelia and cancel her visit. But then remembered his promise to his family. And his commitment to Dougie and the other charitable causes he funded. Except—Dougie was about to become a millionaire. He didn't need that fund anymore.
Maybe Rollo could help his favorite causes in non-financial ways.
Maybe he'd paid enough for his past behavior. Maybe he could walk away from his family responsibilities. Choose a different destiny. Marry someone he…wanted. Needed. Loved?
Was this love, this constant pesky ache?
But Cornelia kept sending him cheerful emails about her trip and he couldn't bring himself to call it off.
And Brianna was treating him like one of her buddies. She'd seen that other side of him—the Park Avenue jackass in a suit. No wonder she was avoiding him. She probably wanted nothing to do with Rollington Wareham III.
27
Finn finally finished the rough draft of his screenplay and invited everyone over for a "table read." Sean refused, since he was still opposed to the idea of a movie about the burnover they'd survived. But knowing that Brianna would be there, Rollo wouldn't have missed it for anything. Besides, he'd offered up his house since the guesthouse wouldn't hold that many people.
Rollo, Evie, Suzanne, Josh, Brianna and Merry gathered around the coffee table in his living room while Finn handed out copies of the script. Brianna sat cross-legged on the floor, her copy spread open in her lap. She wore one of the new outfits she'd gotten in New York, a baby doll top in star-spangled indigo silk along with rolled up jeans. A length of yarn held back her hair; he overheard her telling Merry that she was getting back into knitting now that the slow season for gardening had begun.
He walked around the room, distributing bottles of root beer, and tried not to stare at the bright-haired firefly perched on his floor. But God, it was so hard. When he handed her the bottle, his arm brushed against her curls; it felt like a bolt of electricity streaking through him. She didn't meet his eyes as she accepted the drink. Instead she aimed a vague smile over her shoulder, as if it were salt tossed for good luck.
He wanted to kick everyone out and haul her into the bedroom and make love to her until that distant look dissolved into one of wild-eyed passion.
Lost in that fantasy, he just stared blankly at Merry when she asked him a question. She smirked and looked back at her copy of the script.
Get ahold of yourself. He passed his root beer bottle across his forehead, hoping the cold glass would keep him on track. He sank into the leather armchair he'd purchased when he realized Cornelia would need a place to sit.
Finn stuck an unlit cigar between his teeth. "All right, listen up, everyone. Your lines are highlighted. Man, woman, doesn't matter. Characterization doesn't matter. Don't worry about your fricking motivation or anything like that. We're firefighters, right? Simple folk. Our motivation is to put out the fire and not get killed."
Merry raised her hand. "Based on my research into hotshots, I have to say that I disagree. What about the motivation for doing such a dangerous job to begin with?"
Finn scowled at her beneath his dark swath of hair. "Why'd I invite you again?"
Merry smirked. "Because of my valuable journalistic skills and sparkling personality."
"She has a point," Evie intervened in that calming way of hers. "Firefighters have all kinds of motivations. Some join because they want to be heroes, some want the adrenaline rush, some just don't want a normal job. Some like being outdoors."
"Then there's Rollo," said Josh. "Rollo, what was your motivation again? You needed help picking up chicks, right?"
Rollo glared at him. "I wanted to hang out with a bunch of idiots."
"Oh right, that was it. Anger management by way of a chainsaw and a forest."
"Don't be silly. It was so he could grow that magnificent beard." Evie smiled at him with gentle affection.
"Nah, you're all wrong," said Finn. "He joined the service to piss off his family. It worked, too."
Merry cocked her head curiously. "Seriously, so what was it? What inspired a guy with a big-ass trust fund to pick a career running into flames? Serious question. I really want to know."
Josh coughed, burying the words "death wish" inside the sound.
Rollo's leg jittered up and down. He wished himself a thousand miles away, in the middle of a forest somewhere. This interrogation was a load of crap. He lifted his bottle of root beer to his mouth.
Brianna caught his eye and made a sympathetic face, as if she knew exactly what he was feeling.
She raised her hand. "I know. Call on me, teacher."
Josh waved his bottle at her. "The redhead in the front row, go ahead."
"Rollo joined so he could save your worthless ass from a forest fire." She stuck out her tongue at Josh as the room erupted in laughter and a chorus of “ooh, burn” and “oh, snap." Josh pretended to be struck in the heart with a dagger; he fell back on the couch, where Suzanne plopped a kiss on his nose.
"For which he will forever be my hero," she proclaimed. "Rollo rocks."
"Wait a second," grumbled Josh good-naturedly. "I'm the husband. Don't I rate as your hero?"
"Ask me later." Suzanne kissed him again. "You can be extra heroic tonight."
He grinned and nestled her under his arm, while the rest of them hooted and whistled.
Finn called the table read back to order and they all turned to their screenplays. Rollo focused on the lines marked with yellow highlighter as Finn read the stage directions.
"Exterior. Aerial shot. Big Canyon Wilderness. Miles of untouched forest, a mix of pine and birch. On the horizon, smoke billows. We fly like a bird over the canopy toward the column of smoke. Slowly, sounds are heard. The hum of an airplane engine. The click of a safety harness. The radio spitting out coordinates."
Finn paused and motioned to Evie, who started. "Oops, sorry. Oh my God, it's so good, Finn! I'm totally drawn into it already."
Finn grinned. "Going for the drama. Go ahead, read your line. You're the pilot."
"Approaching the fire lines," Evie read. "Jumpers ready?"
It was Rollo's turn. "Go for jump. Hey, um, just a refresher, we're jumping into those flames, right?" He glanced up at Finn. "Nice. A little humor right off the bat."
"Wouldn't be firefighting without it, right?"
"Roger that," Evie said, reading her next line in a deep voice.
Finn picked up the thread. "The aerial descent begins. The flames come closer. We see nothing but smoke and fire below, as if
we're peering into hell. Then the side of the plane opens up. Three firefighters line up at the edge. One by one, they jump toward the flames. The camera follows the last firefighter, but when he heads for an open patch of ground, it veers off in a different direction. Into the flames. Smoke swirls everywhere, the world goes dark.
“Interior bedroom. A man sits bolt upright."
He paused. Everyone sat on the edges of their seats, completely riveted by Finn's dramatic reading.
"Brianna, you're up," he prompted.
"Right. Sorry." Peering at the copy in her lap, she read the next line in a nervous tone. "Fire had invaded my dreams."
"Stand up, if you want," Finn told her impatiently. "I can't hear you down there."
"Sorry, I'm just not much of a public speaker. Someday I'll tell you about the time I ran for class treasurer and had to make a speech in front of the entire assembly."
"You did great." Evie used that hearty tone meant to convince someone they hadn't screwed up. "It was inspiring."
"Yes, vomit inspiring." Brianna scrambled to her feet, tugging down her silky top. Rollo watched the way it hugged her little waist. His hands itched to smooth that sweet curve from her ribs to her hips. He clenched them into fists.
Brianna held the script out in front of her. "Fire had invaded my dreams," she read. "Whenever I closed my eyes, it was there. Stalking me. Mocking me." She giggled, then covered her mouth with a dainty cough. "Sorry, got something caught in my throat."
Rollo fixed his gaze on his own copy, knowing that if he caught her eye, he'd be the next to laugh.
"I knew fire, and fire knew me." Her voice sounded strained from the effort of taking her lines seriously. "We were as intimate as lo…lovers." A chuckle burst forth, but she clapped a hand over her mouth with another very obvious fake cough. Rollo glanced up to see crimson flooding her cheeks.
"Sorry, I told you I suck at this," she gasped.
Finn scowled at his screenplay and made a slash with a big black Sharpie.
"Just skip that whole paragraph," he muttered. "Go on to the next part."
"Okay." She swallowed hard. "Next part…" She ran her index finger down the page. "The first time I heard the word 'burnover,' I assumed it came in flavors of apple and blueberry." She snorted, then bit her lip. "Ha! Good one, Finn."
"Keep going. You can skip the commentary."
Brianna lifted the script back up and kept reading. "Think breakfast pastry, maybe a little burnt around the edges. Turned out, I was the dessert." That was it. She burst into a snort of laughter. Once she started, she couldn't stop. She tried to read the next line. "And I was wrapped up in aluminum foil, AKA my emergency shelter." She turned away to hide her convulsions of laughter.
"Finn," she gasped. "I swear it's good, it really is. I'm so sorry. I just completely, totally suck at this."
"No. It's not you."
"It is! I promise. You should have seen me in New York. I did even worse there. Me and scripts just don't get along."
Rollo lifted his head with a frown. What had happened in New York that involved a script? He'd missed that.
Finn tapped his Sharpie on his root beer bottle and rose to his feet. His mouth was set in a grim line. He lifted his copy of the screenplay high in the air.
"Finn? What are you doing?" Rollo asked uneasily.
With his other hand, Finn dug in his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it, sparking a small flame, then touched it to the screenplay. Flame licked along the edge.
They all watched, paralyzed, as the thick sheaf of pages turned black and flames leapt toward the ceiling.
Then Merry started laughing. "How many damn firefighters do we have in this room? And you're all just going to sit there?"
With the silence shattered, everyone sprang into action. Josh stood up and dashed the contents of his root beer at the flaming screenplay. Then he grabbed Suzanne's bottle and did the same with hers, even though she tried to hold on to it. Some of the liquid hit the pages gripped in Finn's fist, but most of it splashed onto Merry, who shrieked in surprise.
Rollo ripped off his overshirt and grabbed the smoldering sheaf of pages with it. He flung them to the floor and stomped out the rest of the sparks.
Finn let out a crazy war whoop. "Yeah! That's the way." He dumped his root beer on top of the script, then stomped on it with one booted foot.
"Finn. What the hell?" Rollo dragged him away from the pile of cinders. "That's my floor. And my shirt."
"And my piece of crap screenplay." He stepped away from the pile of charred cloth and paper. "Thanks, ladies and gentleman, for confirming what I knew all along. I can't write for shit."
"No, Finn, that's not true…" Evie murmured half-heartedly.
"It's fucking true. Sorry, Evie. And everyone. Sorry to drag you all out here to prove I suck. It's actually a relief. Someone else can write their damn screenplay."
An acrid smoke rose from the debris. Rollo coughed and went to open a window to air it out.
Brianna wiped tears off her cheeks. "Finn, I feel terrible about this. Your script wasn't the problem; it was totally me!"
"Nope. You were great. I might even give my dad your number. Next time he wants to know if a script is any good, he should have you read a few lines. It'll be completely obvious. So." He brushed off his hands, looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. "Who wants a real beer?"
"Count me in. I gotta shower first, though. Josh, your aim sucks." Merry jumped to her feet and headed for the bathroom. Josh helped Suzanne to her feet, and they went into the kitchen to help Finn with the beer.
That left Rollo, Brianna and Evie. Brianna had such a mortified look on her face that Rollo wanted to swoop her off her feet and whisk her into the moonlight, where he could kiss the worry away. He practically vibrated with the need to get her alone.
Evie looked from one to the other of them. "I'll just…help Merry in the bathroom. Because root beer in the hair, ugh, that's just never good. Be right back." She hurried away.
Brianna rubbed a tear away with one thumb, as if she was trying to hide the fact that she was crying. "Why am I such a disaster?"
"Honey, this wasn't your fault. Come on. Let's go outside. It's too smoky in here."
She sniffed, nodding, and he guided her out the door. Finally he had her alone. Starlight shimmered in her eyes, on her hair, on her skin. He ached to take her into his arms and kiss her breathless.
But Cornelia was coming. She was probably on her way to the airport right now. It wasn't right.
"What happened in New York? What were you talking about?" he asked.
Her gaze swooped up to meet his. "No one told—? I mean, nothing. Nothing happened."
A muscle flexed in his jaw. He knew his Brianna and her inability to hide the truth. Obviously something had happened, and everyone had decided to keep it secret from him. "Was it why you left so suddenly? Because of whatever happened?"
"I left because I wanted to leave." Furiously, she dashed the tears off her cheeks. "Is that so hard to believe?"
"Not at all. I always want to leave too. But you were having fun. We were—" He broke off. If he could say what he wanted to her, it would be something like “we were having the best sex of my life” or “we were falling in love.” But he couldn't say those things because he couldn't be with her. And Cornelia was coming.
"Just let it go, Rollo," Brianna whispered. "Do you think this is easy for me? I—I want the best for you. I care about you. So just leave me alone, okay?"
She stepped away from him, the ocean breeze molding her shirt against her body. He had the sense she was merging with the starlight while she disappeared from his life.
"I don't know if I can, Bri," he said harshly. "I miss you. Come up on the roof with me. We'll watch the stars. Talk the way we used to."
"Sorry, I just can't. We can still be friends, just like tonight. In a big group, it's fine. But none of this sort of thing." She waved her hand back and fort
h between the two of them.
His control snapped. "You mean none of this?" He stepped closer and snatched her into his arms. Lifting her into the air, he crushed her against him and claimed her mouth. He couldn't tell her how he felt, but he could show her—with his body, with his passion, with his lips and mouth and hands.
She responded with the same raw desperation running through his body. For one perfect moment, everything was exactly how it should be. The stars twinkled, the universe sang, his heart soared.
Then she tore herself away and stepped back. When she stumbled, he reached out for her, but she quickly righted herself and threw up a hand to hold him off.
"Don't do that to me! It's not fair, Rollo! Do you have any idea how—?" She spun around and headed blindly for her truck. "Tell everyone…tell them I had a gardening emergency. Threat of frost. Plants to protect. Something."
His body one throbbing mass of frustration, he shoved his hand in his pockets and watched her run across his lawn. Goddamn it. He'd fucked everything up, for Brianna, for himself, for Cornelia or someone else just like Cornelia.
As soon as she arrived, he'd have to explain that he could offer everything except his heart. Because his heart was Brianna's. And it always would be.
28
Rollo picked up Cornelia at the regional airport early the next morning. Despite the awkward travel time, she looked fresh and businesslike as she sauntered across the tarmac in white jeans and a lilac blazer with the sleeves rolled up.
White jeans. Who traveled in white jeans? He tried to imagine Brianna taking a risk like that. How many inflight beverage stains would she have by the end of the trip?
They exchanged pecks on the cheek. Rollo helped her into his SUV and they drove into town. He showed her the downtown area with its charming B&Bs and historic cedar-shingled storefronts. "Jupiter Point is kind of a niche market for honeymooners and stargazers," he explained. "They name everything after stars and planets and so forth. There's an observatory just outside of town. Something about the air currents makes the conditions better than average here. We could do a nighttime stargazing sail, or maybe get a tour of the observatory if you're interested."
Into the Flames (Jupiter Point Book 3) Page 19