by Carol Grace
Of course not, she told herself impatiently. But someday she’d have it all. Until then fame and fortune would just have to do. And the way to fame and fortune was to keep her cool, not let emotion get in the way of success, make the photo shoot the best she could—and get the hell out of town as soon as she could, without making a fool of herself by falling in love with the most unavailable man she’d ever come across. It sounded like a lot, but she could do it. She had to do it She had no choice.
Chapter Nine
The film crew was scheduled to arrive at ten in the morning on Monday. Josh had been warned by a brief phone call from Bridget. He was feeling remorse ever since their encounter in her rented room, and he’d been forming an apology in his mind. But she didn’t give him a chance to put it into words. He’d realized on his way home what mixed signals he’d been sending, coming on hot, then blowing cool, but on the phone she’d cut him off after telling him what to wear and what time to be ready. He vowed to make things right with her when he saw her, explain to her that she was the most attractive woman he’d seen in a long time, but...
But what? What if he’d given in to his instincts that night? He’d arrived at her door hot and bothered, ready to take whatever she’d give, but when she started blathering about her life in the city, it hit him all over again how really different they were and how impossible the situation was. And what a fool he’d been to even consider... What? A future with Bridget It was ridiculous. She knew it as well as he did.
He wondered over and over what would have happened if he hadn’t flown off the handle like that, if he’d kissed her senseless, then joined her in an escalating spiral of passion on that narrow little bed. What if they’d both peeled off their clothes, one by one, tossing them in a heap on the floor. He would have covered her body with his kisses until she was a sweet, sexy, overheated bundle of silk and velvet begging for him to fulfill her fantasies. She wouldn’t have to beg. Just thinking about it still had him hot and bothered all over again, and breathing hard.
That wasn’t the only reason he was bothered. After all these years of relative solitude, he was getting hooked on company—the company of his old friends and the company of one new friend. Her. He missed her when she wasn’t around. So did Max. That went without saying. His son was restless and irritable, and still itchy. Josh felt exactly the same, and he hadn’t even had chicken pox. He couldn’t concentrate; the hours dragged; and he and Max were at each other’s throats.
“Pick up your toys. The film crew will be here, and Bridget will be here, and the house is a mess.”
“When, when will they be here?” Max demanded.
“Tomorrow, I told you.”
“I’m bored,” Max said.
“Bored? When I was your age—” He bit his tongue. When Josh was Max’s age, he hated to have his parents nag him, and here he was behaving just the same way toward his son.
“Are they gonna take my picture, too?”
“Are you gonna smile?” Josh asked.
Max gave him a toothless smirk which made Josh smile for the first time in days. He ruffled the boy’s hair. “That’s it. They’ll like that. Go practice some more smiles in the mirror. And when they see you, they won’t be able to resist. You’ll be the Wild Mustang Boy.” Josh certainly had a hard time resisting his son, especially since he’d been sick.
When the three-man crew finally arrived in their van behind Bridget’s car, Max was an impatient basket case and Josh wasn’t much better. It was just a photo shoot, he told himself. All he had to do was get on his horse and ride and let them worry about the rest. What if Bridget ignored him? He might have hurt her. He forced himself to stop pacing back and forth.
Josh watched while the crew, all long-haired artistic types in stiff new jeans and wraparound sunglasses, piled out of their van and stared at the vast open spaces, the dusty red earth and the bare distant hills as if they were in the valley of the moon. While they unloaded their equipment, Max ran headlong for Bridget, threw his arms around her knees and almost knocked her over.
“Hey,” she said lifting him up in her arms. “Let me look at you. Are you all better now?”
“Yep. I got rid of my pox and I’m all better. Can I get my picture taken, too? Dad said I gotta smile. Like this.” Josh couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine the same smirk Max had been practicing for two days.
Bridget laughed and looked over Max’s head at Josh. When her gaze met his, the familiar world around him faded away. The red soil and the distant hills and the wide-open sky all blended together. His heart pounded. He rocked back on the heels of his boots and caught his breath, as if he’d never seen her before. God, she was beautiful with the sun picking up gold highlights in her hair and the laughter on her lips.
“Sure you can, tiger,” she said, turning her gaze back to Max. “They brought plenty of film. You can even take some pictures if you want. I told them you already know how. First I’ve got to get my groceries out of my car. I’m making dinner for you all tonight.”
“I’ll help,” he said without Josh even reminding him. Josh offered to help, too, but Bridget said she and Max could manage. Instead he went to the barn to check on the horse he was planning to ride today. For the umpteenth time. He came out just as Max and Bridget emerged from the house.
Max was tugging at Bridget’s hand. “Let’s go take some more pictures of you acting silly. You gotta do some more songs and dances ‘cuz my dad laughed so hard when he saw you.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” Bridget asked, walking slowly toward the fence with Max at her side. Josh had settled on the top bar of the fence, bracing himself with his arms outstretched along the rail.
“Oh, yeah, he watched so many times he ‘bout wore out that videotape you gave me.”
Josh could have cheerfully throttled the boy. He didn’t want Bridget to know he’d sat up half the night watching her and many nights since. She might think he’d lost his mind. Or his heart. He didn’t know which he could more easily do without, his mind or his heart He shot his son a warning look, but Max just giggled.
“So you laughed at my singing and dancing, did you?” she asked Josh with her hands on her hips. “I’m glad I provided you with so much entertainment But that was nothing. If I’d known you were going to watch I would have enlarged my repertoire. I could have done better. I wasn’t really trying. I didn’t know you’d be watching.”
“Hey, you were great” Josh said, relieved by her lighthearted attitude. For all he knew he’d hurt her feelings irreparably. But she’d bounced back as if that night had never happened. “Especially that teacup song. How did it go? Tip me over and pour me out” He leaned forward, over the fence, to demonstrate, and Bridget to Max’s delight, reached up with both hands and pushed him off the fence onto the ground.
“If I didn’t know better,” he said, slowly picking himself off the rust-red soil and brushing the dirt off his pants, “I’d say you were jealous. I’d say you want to be the Wild Mustang Woman.” He walked up to her, his finger pointed at her chest, stopping only inches from the cleft between her breasts. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re not going to stop at a men’s cologne, you’re going to have women smelling like horses, too. And you’re going to be the symbol. You, a city girl, are going to take over. To win fame and fortune. Am I right?” he asked, tapping her lightly on the chest.
Palms forward as if to protect herself, Bridget backed away, while Max leaned against the fence, gleefully watching the adult antics, astounded to see his father acting so silly. It was better than a cartoon. Better than a movie. He knew Bridget could let her hair down, he had the video to prove it, but his father, his serious, hardworking father... well, that was another matter.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “Although now that you mention it, it’s not a bad idea.”
“That’s why you bought that shirt with the fringe, isn’t it? Now all you need is a hat and boots to go with it”
Bridget’s face turned scarlet.
She choked back a retort.
“You didn’t. Did you?” he asked. He turned to Max. “How would you like to see Bridget in a whole Western getup?”
“In boots and everything?” He bobbed his head up and down. “That’d be cool. I’ll take her picture.” Then he dashed off to watch the crew unload their gear.
Bridget watched him go. “Okay, I’ll bring my outfit to show you tomorrow, if you promise not to laugh. It’ll be my last day.”
“What?” Josh said, startled.
“If all goes well, they’ll be finished shooting tomorrow. I certainly wouldn’t want to take any more of your time,” she said.
Josh stared at her. He knew she’d leave soon, but not this soon. Tomorrow was her last day. He couldn’t believe it. He felt like he’d been thrown off his wild mustang on his butt. Dazed. Shaken up.
“I didn’t know,” he blurted. “I mean, I knew you were leaving, but... Max doesn’t know. I don’t know how to tell him. He’s going to miss you.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell him. I’m going to miss him, too. Come and meet the crew,” she said. “We should get started.”
She seemed so cool, so matter-of-fact. But what did he expect after their last meeting? Still, it was hard for him to accept that this was just another job for her. It would be even harder for a five-year-old whose mother had died. If she didn’t care about him, couldn’t she have some feeling for his son? Josh heard her say the names of the photographers but promptly forgot them. He shook hands with them, tried to look them in the eye, but all he saw was his haggard-looking face reflected in their sunglasses. Then they all set out for a tour of the property.
Josh took the lead; Max followed close behind him, half skipping, half running in an effort to keep up, proudly wearing a camera on a strap around his neck. Bridget walked along with the crew who were carrying their tripods, reflectors and camcorders, giving a running commentary and instructions.
“A silhouette...different backgrounds...profile...macho sexy symbol....”
Josh was still in a state of shock. Leaving. She was leaving. Without thinking, he automatically saddled the horse he’d chosen, one he’d tamed and trained a year ago. He made a few circles around the corral so the crew could get a sense of what they wanted. Then he walked his horse to the top of the hill, the crew following slowly and panting at the unaccustomed exercise, where Bridget suggested certain angles and certain shots. The photographers nodded, they made notes, and they made marks on the ground with chalk.
Josh put the horse through the motions. Rearing back on his hind legs. Racing over the hill. Tossing his head, his mane flowing in the wind. Well trained, it did exactly what the crew wanted with a minimum of commands from Josh. Which was fortunate, because Josh’s mind was unable to focus on horsemanship. His mind and his eyes wandered to Bridget and then to Max. He should have prepared his son for this. He’d told him she would leave sometime, but not when. When was she going to tell him? When, when, when?
Next they went back to the corral, and Josh did a few rope tricks from his saddle just to see if he still could, and the photographers loved it. They poked their heads through the slats of the fence to catch his act from all angles. They let Max snap pictures, too. They very generously let him sit on their shoulders and look through their viewfinder. They held him up in the air over their heads. He was beaming with pride.
That was Bridget’s doing, he thought, watching him focus his camera in an effort to be just like the professionals. She’d primed them to be nice to him. She wanted this to be a good experience for Max. A memorable experience. It would be. But it wouldn’t make it any easier for him to accept the fact that she was leaving.
It wasn’t quite true, as Bridget had said, that the photographers would work around him, that he could pose on his horse for a few minutes and then continue to do his normal work. He hadn’t really ever believed that, but only now did he realize how long it took them to get the perfect shot. How often they’d repeat the same action, over and over. He should have known what a perfectionist Bridget would be.
When they broke for lunch, he was tired of doing the same routine over and over and ready to go back to being a wild horse trainer. The crew brought a cooler full of beer and soft drinks to the picnic table behind the house, and Bridget went to her car for the ice chest containing the large meat and cheese sandwiches she’d ordered from the diner in town.
“I want a shot of horse and rider on the hill outlined against the sunset,” Bridget told the crew between bites of her sandwich. “Sunsets here are beautiful.”
“What about sunrise?” Josh asked. “Sunrises can be spectacular.”
“Sunrise. I never thought of that,” Bridget mused, as she took a swig of cola from the can. “Would you mind getting up that early?” she asked Josh.
“No, but would you? You’d have to stay overnight”
Oh, Lord. Not overnight. Not in his house, his beautiful, comfortable house where she felt so much at home. Too much at home. But what could she say? She was afraid to stay there for fear of forming an attachment? Which was a little like closing the barn door after the horse had escaped. She couldn’t give up the most spectacular photo opportunity of her career because she couldn’t trust herself to sleep under the same roof as Josh.
They’d been through this before. It was deja vu all over again. She’d made dinner in his kitchen, she’d been ready to spend the night then fate had intervened when his in-laws called and she left. Who would call tonight what would prevent her from spending her last night in Harmony under Josh’s roof? Who or what would save her from temptation? It had to be something, because this was the worst idea she’d ever heard.
This kind of temptation—the temptation to pretend she was part of the family—was too hard to resist. What if no one called. What if she was forced into sleeping under his roof, or worse, not sleeping under his roof, lying there staring at the ceiling thinking about him?
What if in the middle of the night she got up off the couch or the futon and went and knocked on his door and threw herself at him, begged him to make love to her before she left town? No, she didn’t trust herself. Better to head it off. Better not to stay there. “You already have a houseful,” she said. “I can’t take advantage of your hospitality. I’ll go back to town tonight and come back early in the morning. Before sunrise.”
“Stay here,” he said firmly, reaching across the picnic table to cover her hand with his. “Stay here with us.”
It wasn’t an invitation, it was an order. She was so startled she couldn’t speak. She looked around. The crew had wandered off to have a cigarette.
“I don’t understand you,” she said. “The last time I saw you you said—”
“I know what I said,” he said in a low tone. “And I’m sorry. I should never have come up to your room, and once I did, I never should have left. I can’t tell you how much I’ve regretted it”
“Coming up or leaving?” she asked.
“Both. But what’s done is done. If you’re afraid I’ll come on to you again, don’t be. All I’m concerned with is your future. Your happiness. Your job. Your success. I want you to stay here so you’ll get the best shots in the morning. So you won’t miss a minute of the action.” Just for a second she wondered if he was talking about more action than the sun rising in the east Though his words were earnest, there was a certain look in his eyes that caused her knees to knock together under the table.
Fortunately he couldn’t see under the table. All he saw was the casual shrug of the shoulders as if it didn’t matter one way or the other where she spent her last night in Harmony. But it did. Oh, yes, it did. Before she could say anything else Josh had turned to answer one of the photographer’s questions about panning for gold in Nevada’s river beds.
Max was ecstatic when he heard Bridget was staying all night He was also exhausted from running around all morning. So tired that when Bridget volunteered to take him in for a nap after lunch he didn’t even put up a fight. She
tucked him into his bed, wondering if this was the time to tell him she was leaving. Watching his eyes close, one little hand still holding hers, she knew she couldn’t do it
Especially when he asked her just before he drifted off, “You’ll be here when I wake up, won’t you Bridget?”
“Sure I will. I’ll be here all day tomorrow, and then...”
Even if she’d had the courage to tell him, which she didn’t, he was asleep. With one last look at him, she closed the door behind her and went back outside. There she found Max wasn’t the only one who was tired. The cameramen were ready for their naps, too. They’d made it as far as the cottonwood tree in the front yard before they collapsed on their backs under its leafy shade to digest their lunch.
“So much for your crew,” Josh said “One morning in Harmony and they’ve passed out.”
“This would never happen in San Francisco,” Bridget said, staring at the supine bodies on the grass. “It must be the heat.”
“So Max didn’t even protest?” Josh asked.
“Not a bit. Fell asleep immediately,” she said.
“You and I are the only ones left standing,” he noted.
Bridget met his gaze for just a moment. What would he do if she said she didn’t want to be left standing? That she wanted to send everyone away and lie on the warm grass in his arms, dreamily staring up at the branches of the juniper trees. She wanted to make love with him under those trees, to see the dappled sun on his sun-bronzed body. To feel the grass tickle her bare legs, to breathe in the smell of his hair and his skin, to feel his mouth on hers.