Gunther studied her face. “No waterworks. You know how I feel about that,” he said.
“This isn’t about how you feel, it’s about how I feel! Or can’t you get that through your thick head?”
“Temper, temper, Erica.” His words added fuel to her fire.
“I’m not a yoyo, to pull me up when you want to play and let me lie when you don’t.”
“I never said you were. You’re jumping…”
“Don’t tell me I’m jumping to conclusions.”
“Why not? When you are.”
She arched an eyebrow in response.
“Just because yesterday was crazy busy doesn’t mean we’re through. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you anymore. I had a dinner meeting with Gabe that went late last night.”
She stepped back, studying his face. Can I believe him?
“Doe-eyes, I’m still crazy about you. I’m just not ready to make it more formal, move in together or anything, yet.” He inched closer to her and ran his knuckle down her cheek.
“You didn’t have a hot date last night?”
“With Gabe? You’re kidding, right? Call him if you don’t believe me.” He reached into his pants pocket and produced his cell phone, offering it to her.
She sank down on the corner of her desk. He moved forward swiftly, taking her into his arms. Try as she might, she couldn’t hold back the tears.
“Baby, honey, doe-eyes. Don’t cry. Please, baby, it breaks me up.”
But she couldn’t help it. “My emotions don’t run on demand, Gunther,” she replied.
He held her and rubbed her back. Pressing her cheek into his chest felt good. His arms around her felt better.
“There’s nobody but you, Erica. You gotta believe me. But things are moving so fast now. Strange Bedfellows is kicking into high gear. Casting is underway. I’m on pins and needles about Sway, and there are two other productions I have to close out. I’m wiped.”
She knew what he was saying was true. I’m an idiot! He’s right. Business is through the roof now. No time for love and moving in together. Grow up, Erica. Show him you’re a woman and not a crybaby little girl.
She took the handkerchief he offered and dried her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m feeling a little…”
“Insecure?”
She nodded. “You’re not known for…well, you’re known for screwing around.”
“Maybe. Okay, yeah. In the past. I did. But now, it’s different. My business is finally taking off the way I want, and I have you. I do have you, don’t I?”
She smiled at the hint of doubt in his voice. Gunther Quill insecure? Never!
“You do have me.” Oh boy, do you have me. Totally hog-tied.
“Good. Then, I’m a happy man. I’ve been waiting all my life to put the pieces of the puzzle together, and they’re coming together now. I’m going to have my dream at last.”
“That’s good for you. But I have to take care of myself.”
“I’ll take care of you, babe. Don’t worry. Why don’t you come and spend the weekend with me at the beach? I have a great house there. We can relax.”
He knows just what to say. Give the fish some line then reel her in. What can I say? “That’d be great.”
“Good. I miss you in my bed.”
“Me, too.” He took her in his arms again and kissed her long and hard. She melted against him, wanting him totally and completely. He stepped back, his eyes dark with need.
She pushed on his chest, and he moved farther away.
“Not on the couch. I’m not going to be one of those. You’ll have to wait for the weekend.”
He took a few seconds to catch his breath. “Whatever you say. I can hardly wait. Making love to you with the sound of the waves in the background. Incredible.”
That almost swayed her. She came to her senses. “So what’s on the list this morning?”
“Contracts. Come in here. Geez, I hope I can get my concentration back.” His gaze swept her body, lingering on her curves. “Maybe you’ll have to wear a suit of armor to the office, or I’m not going to get any work done.”
She chuckled, grabbed her notebook and gave him a gentle shove. “Let’s go, movie king. Last week’s box office figures for Hustle and Dance came in. I want to show you something.”
“What?” he asked, moving toward his office door.
“The trend seems to be that the smaller markets are outperforming the bigger ones, based on percentage of population.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“People in the smaller markets haven’t seen the show on Broadway.”
“You may be right. We need to quantify this and put together a plan for all our movies from musicals. We need to examine shifting more advertising dollars into those markets. Great catch, Erica.”
She beamed at him, grabbed a folder off his desk, and followed him into his private office.
* * * *
Gunther pulled up to a carport in his Ferrari. Erica got out while he grabbed the luggage. The house didn’t look like much from the road.
“The beach is private. No public access,” he said, leading the way in.
When he opened the door, Erica’s mouth fell open. The inside was all white—walls, ceiling, sofa, chairs. The living room had a large, sectional sofa facing sliding glass doors. Outside, the surf was breaking within an easy walk. To the right was a small kitchen with black granite counters and barstools on the other side of a pass-through. To the left, an open area with a round table in sea green Plexiglas and six chairs.
“It’s beautiful!”
“Just wait. There’s more, a ton more.” She followed Gunther into a small bedroom with a queen-sized bed. The room was also white, with a blue and green sea motif bedspread and curtains. The floor was beautifully polished, light wood.
He put their suitcases down and opened a closet door. “Use this and the little dresser.”
Then, he took her by the hand and showed her the upper deck. He opened the glass doors. Outside were chairs and a small, round table plus a Jacuzzi. To the right was a huge gas grill and small refrigerator.
They walked down stairs to a small, lower deck with two comfortable chairs facing the ocean. There was an outdoor shower, too. Through another set of sliding glass doors, they came to a den with another sectional sofa facing the sea and a bigger dining area than upstairs with a rectangular table that seated ten.
“There are a couple more bedrooms, but we don’t need those.”
“This place is amazing.” Erica turned around and around, taking in all the details, from the modern painting in yellow and blue to the white wood cart crammed with exotic liquor and wine bottles.
“I love it here. My place in town is small. One bedroom. I come here every weekend.”
Erica plopped down on the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and propped her feet up on the glass coffee table. “I’m not surprised you spend downtime here.”
“Who said anything about downtime? I have to work while we’re here. I’m sorry, doe-eyes, but you know how it is right now.”
“Then I’ll cook.” She held out her arm, while slipping her shoes back on. “Give me the keys, I’ll go to the store.”
Gunther glanced at her hand then her face. “Keys to the Ferrari?”
“I’m not stealing your car. It’s just a mile or two.”
Still, he hesitated. “Trust issues, Gunther?”
“My car?”
She wiggled her fingers. He sighed, reached into his back pocket, and peeled off two one-hundred-dollar bills then placed the items in her palm.
“Anything happens to that car and I’ll find you.” He pointed at her, his mouth raised in a half-smile.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“Do you know how to drive stick?”
She nodded.
“And you know how to cook?”
She nodded again.
“Don’t be long.”
She kissed him quickly and headed for
the driveway.
Erica’s heart beat quickened as she turned the key in the expensive vehicle. Gunther’s baby. Don’t mess up. Her nerves were on edge as she eased the gorgeous car out onto the street. She remembered spotting a small, tony gourmet store on their way to Gunther’s house. She bought elegant food and drove home without incident.
Gunther plucked the keys from her hand after she entered the house. “No accidents?”
She shook her head. He let out a sigh, smiled, ruffled her hair, and returned to the sofa, where he had spread out some papers and had his laptop open. Erica unpacked the groceries, humming the song “Sway” as she put away the groceries and donned an apron.
She gathered the ingredients for a pesto sauce her mom made. She planned to have it over fresh pasta. A salad of artichoke hearts, baby arugula, vine-ripened tomatoes, hearts of palm, and calamata olives was next on her list.
After that, she mixed up some melted, fine bittersweet chocolate with a touch of heavy cream. She coated strawberries and juicy orange slices, then put them on waxed paper to cool. Gunther stood up to stretch before joining her in the kitchen.
“Something smells good.” He snaked his arm around her waist and nibbled on her neck.
“Could it be world’s most expensive aftershave?”
“It could be dinner or you…or both.” Nibbles became kisses.
She giggled when his lips tickled her. “Don’t get me started. Dinner is almost ready.”
“I’d like to have you for dinner.”
Erica’s pulse jumped and her insides fluttered. Don’t fall for him. He’s going to break your heart. But he’s so sexy and sweet. Gunther Quill, sweet? Alert the media!
She laughed at her own joke.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re not telling the truth.”
“It’s private. Come on, dinner is ready.”
He carried the big bowl of pasta pesto outside to the small table on the deck. Erica had set it with linen placemats, silverware, and wine glasses earlier. She grabbed the salad, a bottle of wine, and a corkscrew.
While they ate, she stared out at the constantly rolling waves. The Pacific was beautiful.
“Did you bring your suit?”
“Bathing suit? Yes.”
“Good. I love to take a little swim after dinner. Relaxes me. Helps me sleep.”
I know something you can do to help you sleep. She smiled at him.
“What?” he asked, putting a forkful of pasta in his mouth.
“Nothing.”
“Too many secrets, Erica. I hate secrets. Give.”
“I was simply thinking of another activity you could do that would help you sleep.”
He laughed. “That goes without saying.”
She got goose bumps at the thought of him in the big bed. She met his gaze with hers and sensed the heat between them. “Is it private enough to go skinny dipping here?”
“Unfortunately not. But there’s always skinning dipping in the Jacuzzi.”
A tingle went up her spine. Naked with Gunter in the Jacuzzi! “Sounds like a plan.” She covered her excitement by cramming some salad in her mouth.
When dinner was finished, Gunther helped with the dishes. Afterward, he pulled her into his arms for a kiss. Erica pushed up against him, wanting more. He gripped her butt and squeezed. She tightened her arms around his neck.
“Want me?” he whispered.
“You know I do.”
He chuckled. She ground her hips into his, and it was as if she’d hit a starter motor. He slipped his fingers under her tank top, feeling her skin and popping her bra open. Before she could blink, he had stripped her top off and was tugging her shorts down. When she was naked, he stood back, admiring the view.
“You’re perfect. Perfectly beautiful.” His eyes glowed. “And all mine,” he murmured. Taking her by the hand, he led her into the bedroom and pulled the covers down.
Am I all yours? Suddenly bashful, she quickly slipped under the sheet. “Drop ’em, mister,” she ordered, motioning with her hand. He obeyed, shedding his shorts and T-shirt. He’s the one with the perfect body.
He crawled up the bed, his sinewy, muscular frame moving with grace and power. The stare of his eyes, darker than espresso, sent a chill through her. His need, evident on his face, matched her own. When he reached her, he pounced like a puma, holding her wrists to the mattress with his strong hands while his mouth ravaged her mouth, neck, and chest.
Resisting at first, Erica relaxed and let desire rule. Every touch stoked her inner fire, the heat of passion melting her fears. She parted her legs, winding them around his in a gesture of submission. Take me, dammit.
“Do you want me?” he asked, his voice rough in her ear.
She sighed.
“Say it.”
“I do.”
“Say it!”
“I want you, Gunther, inside me. Hurry.” With a smile on his face, he reached down to touch her. His fingers dipped into her easily. She arched as he thrust them in again and again. She moaned, “You. The real thing. You.”
He nipped her breasts then licked, sucking on her peaks until she cried out. Before she could say anything, he eased her knees up, covered his shaft, and buried himself inside her. He braced himself as he moved in and out. Erica placed her hands on his cheeks and drew his lips to hers. She invaded his mouth, and he responded, his tongue dancing with hers.
As he picked up speed, she glided her hands down his neck and chest, then around to embrace him. The words “I love you” swirled in her brain, dancing with her senses. Shut up, shut up. She kept her emotions to herself, wanting to share with him, but afraid. He filled her completely, physically and emotionally. He had taken over her heart.
“Oh, God, doe-eyes,” he muttered, closing his eyes and picking up the pace.
She rocked with him, her hips bucking in sync with his. He shuddered and thrust hard three times. She called his name as they climaxed together. Pleasure shot through her body, calming her. Gunther dropped down, resting his head on her chest. She stroked his forehead, combing his hair back.
“Oh, baby. That was…monumental,” he whispered, moving his hand to caress her breast.
The lovers stayed frozen together. He kissed her chest, and she played with his hair. If I could stay like this forever… Erica closed her eyes. Her imagination fired up, flashing images of Gunther and her in this house day after day, season after season. Contentment washed through her veins.
“Penny for your thoughts.” he said, lifting his head to make eye contact. She smiled, but didn’t speak. “You’re zoning out on me again. You do that sometimes. One minute you’re here, and the next, you’re gone.”
“Do I?” Stop dreaming about what you can’t have.
He nodded, pushing up on his hands and rolling off her. He washed up in the bathroom, returned, and tucked Erica in. “I’ve got to finish a few things. I’ll be along soon.” She frowned, sticking out her lower lip. He chuckled, kissed her poutiness, and padded out of the room.
Erica dozed lightly until the bed dipped down. Her eyes opened to see Gunther’s shadowy figure move beneath the sheet. He stretched out flat on his back. She inched closer, snuggling her head into his shoulder, and sighed. Now, I can sleep.
“Goodnight, doe-eyes,” he said, closing his arm around her shoulders.
“Goodnight, my darling,” she whispered, with eyes half-closed.
“You called me ‘darling,’” he said.
“Hmm? Oh. Yeah.” But she was too drowsy to correct herself, make a smart remark, or explain. He kissed her forehead and drew her closer. Before long, the lovers were asleep.
Chapter Eight
Erica slinked into Whitmarsh Eddy’s classroom, her tail between her legs. Sam motioned for her to sit next to him.
“Why the doom and gloom?” he asked.
“I blew it.”
Sam raised his eyebrows, shooting her a q
uestioning look, but the coach entered the room and clapped his hands.
“All right, update time.”
Erica sunk lower in her seat, hoping to become invisible.
“We had a few folks try out. Let’s get the results.”
He called on several students before her, and Erica’s hopes that he’d forgotten her rose. But her small smile froze and fell off her face when he drew the class’s attention to her.
“Our shining star, Erica Stone. How did it go, Miss Stone?”
The silence was deafening. All eyes were on her. She swallowed, trying to moisten a mouth that made desert sand look wet.
“Well, out with it. What happened? Stand up.”
Erica pushed to her feet, grabbing onto the back of the chair in front of her to steady her wobbly knees. “I blew it.”
“What?” Whit raised his hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you, darling.”
“I blew it!” She fairly shouted. The room buzzed with comments among the students.
“How so? What happened?”
Erica gave a brief explanation of how she had frozen in front of the casting director and producers. She had forgotten the lines. So, they had given her the script to read. Her voice had cracked. She had taken water. Her emotions had been locked in her internal closet and wouldn’t come out. The reading had been wooden, and she had been dismissed with the mumbled, mandatory “thank you.” She had never heard from them.
“Stage fright?”
She nodded. Whitmarsh launched into methods and tips on how to cope with stage fright. Erica sank back down into her seat. She wanted to cry and run out of the room. Sam patted her arm.
“You’ll do better next time.”
She managed a feeble smile at his attempt to cheer her up. She put aside her humiliation and participated in the class. Afterward, Whit called her up to the front. Sam moseyed along, too.
“Erica, don’t be discouraged. You have talent. A ton of talent. I’ve set up another audition for you. A friend of mine will be there. I’ll tell him to go easy on you.”
She smiled, grateful he hadn’t given up on her.
“It’s the movie, Strange Bedfellows. A supporting actress got sick and had to drop out. You’re perfect for the part.”
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