Exposing Alix

by Scott, Inara

  Ryker was silent. They watched for another moment, Ryker peering nervously over his shoulder every few minutes.

  “Alix, it’s not going to do either of us any good to end up on the cover of a tabloid watching a couple make out in the park.”

  Reluctantly, she nodded, and he gave a warning cough as they started forward again. The couple barely moved as Alix and Ryker walked past, their bodies draped against each other.

  Ryker continued down the path, Alix following a few paces behind, careful not to accidentally come in contact with him.

  “You watch that sort of thing all the time?” Ryker asked. He looked back up the trail to the spot where they had seen the couple, though it was hidden now from view by the thick vegetation.

  “I’m probably a little too liberal with it,” Alix admitted, brushing the sweat from her forehead. “There are some who get annoyed.”

  “But you’re absolutely comfortable with it. With watching, I mean?”

  “It’s beautiful,” she said simply, her gaze drawn back by his soft voice. “I hate that people don’t get to look at that beauty. Why should we look away just because people are expressing love for each other?”

  Ryker paused in the trail, considering her words. “And that’s what you want our movie to look like?”

  Alix nodded. “That’s it.”

  He looked into her eyes, and Alix felt herself being searched, measured. She wanted to lean forward and touch the brown skin exposed at the neck of his shirt but instead jammed her hands into her pockets and turned away.

  He pulled her back with a gentle tug to her arm. “Okay, I get it. That’s what you want it to look like. But what’s it supposed to feel like, Alix? Can you help me with that?”

  Chapter Ten

  It took only the time for her to catch her breath before his lips swooped down to capture hers. And it took only that breath for Alix to lose control of all her convictions and dissolve under the heat of that kiss. Her arms, traitorous pair, wound themselves around his neck. He was tall enough that she had to stand on tiptoe, and that movement sent her off-balance, leaning into him and inadvertently pressing her body along the length of his.

  The kiss was different from the night before. Sudden. Intense. A depth of passion swept from her lips to her toes. He traced the edge of her bottom lip with his tongue, sucked gently on the plump flesh he found there, and then plunged into the opening beyond.

  His arm clasped around her waist, fingers tickling the sensitive skin of her stomach. Impatient, he tugged the bulky fabric of her shirt aside and reached for that bare skin. A soft moan came from somewhere. Alix realized, almost as if in a dream, that it came from her.

  He continued to bathe her in his kiss, stroking and licking, until she clutched his shoulders and pressed her hips closer to him, zinging sensations running up and down her spine, lingering in her breasts.

  “Is this what it should feel like?” he murmured, trailing kisses down her neck. “Or perhaps this?” She arched her back, unable to think about what she was doing, what he was doing. His teeth found her nipple, biting softly through the fabric of her shirt, and her hips jerked in time.

  She closed her eyes, fighting for control. “Ryker, what are you doing?”

  “Experimenting. I can’t direct something if I don’t know how it feels.” He cupped her buttocks in his hands, drawing her closer. She could feel his hardness nestled between her legs, and it sent her reeling.

  She gasped. “I thought we weren’t going to do this.”

  “Do what?” He stroked her stomach.

  She sucked in her breath. “This,” she said. “We weren’t going to do this.” She intended the words to come out firm, but they sounded breathy and uncertain. “We’re coworkers, remember?”

  He recaptured her mouth and sent her senses reeling with a series of long, slow kisses. “That’s exactly why we need this. You’re going to show me how our movie should be shot.” He tugged at the elastic containing her hair, sending it cascading around her shoulders. He tangled his fingers in its length. His fingers at her scalp produced a whole new series of tingles up and down her body. “As coworkers.”

  He gazed into her eyes, his dark liquid stare so intense and pure she couldn’t look away.

  “I wanted this for Jake and Lena,” she said, “not us. We aren’t the actors, Ryker.”

  “I know. They can barely stand each other.” As if to prove how different they were, he pressed her more tightly against him, leaving no doubt what bumped against the sensitive nub between her legs. She widened her stance, needing to feel pressure there from his body. Needing more.

  Except she didn’t want more. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to work on the movie and then go back to her book, her pride and sanity intact. Messing around with Ryker would leave both in question.

  He ground gently against her, and she gripped him tightly, realizing almost as an afterthought that she was clutching him around the neck like she was drowning. Then he kissed her again, this time slowly and deeply, until her entire body went soft and limp in his arms.

  He pulled back, surveying her flushed, dazed expression with satisfaction. “I think I’m finally starting to understand what you want. We’ll try that with Lena and Jake later this afternoon.”

  #

  Alix made a point of blocking all memory of the incident in the park from her mind, choosing to believe she and Ryker had simply seen a couple kissing and then walked calmly and casually back to his car. Perhaps out of pity for her wounded pride, he allowed her to perpetuate this myth, never mentioning what had really happened in the week that followed.

  Unexpectedly, given the potential for rising tension between them, things on the set improved. Alix fell into a routine of waking early and meeting Ryker on the set to talk about plans for the day. They would rehearse or shoot film and then view the dailies together before they called it a night. Things started to click. He could see the same flaws in a scene that she did. He knew what she was trying to achieve, even if he couldn’t get there himself. Together, they coaxed and cajoled Lena. Alix played good cop to Ryker’s bad. They tried to give Lena opportunities to take control of her scenes, to use the acting talent they knew she had.

  Little by little, things got better. It wasn’t what they wanted, but it was better.

  But the attraction between them only got worse. Sexual tension simmered silently, just below the surface of everything they did. Ryker didn’t try to kiss her again, but it took no more than a meaningful look or the brush of his hand against her thigh or the touch of his hand on her waist and Alix was left struggling for control. He was seducing her, little by little. She knew it, but she was helpless to fight it. If anything, his control only made it worse.

  So her heart leaped unsteadily when, on a Friday afternoon, he invited her to come to his house for a walk on the beach. Noise from some unexpected construction in the road opposite their soundstage had marred three takes in a row, forcing an early end to the day while one of the production assistants tried to figure out who to bribe to get the work moved to July.

  “I know you love the beach,” Ryker said, his gaze dark and inviting. “I’m making you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  “But we’ve got work to do here,” Alix replied, a lump forming in her throat at the thought of them alone, in his house.

  “I’m the director,” Ryker said. “If I say it’s time for a break, it’s time for a break. Tell you what, if you really want, I’ll have Amir make a tape for us, and we can watch some film while we’re there.”

  What could she do? She was terrified, yet unable to think of any good excuse to say no. Unable, or perhaps unwilling. Underlying his invitation had been just the hint of a challenge. And Alix had never been good at stepping down from a challenge. Besides, she told herself, she hadn’t spent any time at the beach since she’d arrived in LA two weeks before, and she wanted desperately to see the ocean. She grabbed her rattiest, most unattractive sweatshirt and bug-eyed sung
lasses and met him at his car.

  She was not a Ryker Valentine groupie, she told herself sternly. If he made a pass at her, she would find the will to say no. Her pride demanded it.

  Situated just off the winding Pacific Coast Highway, Ryker’s ranch-style beach house was nothing like what Alix had expected. The exterior was plain, even drab, with gray cedar shake siding and a row of small windows looking toward the road. A long driveway protected by a broad iron gate led down to the house, flanked by tufts of brown grass, gnarled cypress trees, and exposed rock. There were no flowers or soft touches; the house blended into the landscape as if it were a part of the cliff on which it sat.

  But the interior could not have been more different. Instead of Gunther’s white walls and creamy shag rugs, there were wood floors with colorful throws. The living room was full of overstuffed leather chairs that felt as comfortable as they looked. It was all carefully decorated, but it was vibrant with life and energy. And dominating every room were huge bay windows with stunning views of the ocean.

  Alix hadn’t realized, until that moment, how much she missed the ocean. In her years of living on the beach, it had become a part of her, from the sound of the waves to the smell of salt in the air. Despite the obvious luxury, and inescapable fact that this was Ryker’s house, she was instantly, perfectly at home.

  Ryker threw his keys onto a dark walnut end table by the front door. “What can I get you to drink?”

  Alix walked over to a set of french doors. She pushed gently on the brass handles, and the door swung open to a flat grassy area that seemed to hover above the pristine, empty beach below. A long rectangular swimming pool dominated the far side of the yard, with a hot tub on one end.

  She breathed deeply of the ocean air and felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Club soda?”

  Ryker flashed an unexpectedly warm smile. “After the week we’ve had, I’d expected something stronger.”

  Alix grinned, almost giddy with pleasure at the sight of the blue water stretching to the horizon. “Right now, things don’t look so bad.”

  Ryker stood at her side and pushed open the other side of the double doors. “That’s exactly how I felt the first time I walked into this house. Like it didn’t matter what else was happening in my life. Once I was looking at the ocean, I knew everything would be okay.”

  His voice was soft and warm, and the intimacy of the moment caught Alix off guard. She spun around, needing to put at least a few feet of distance between them. “Where’s the kitchen? I can help myself to that drink.”

  Ryker gestured toward a small flight of stairs that led to a hallway. “Kitchen’s that way. But you’ll never find anything useful in there. I have no idea how to cook. The only thing I keep stocked is the bar.”

  Along one wall of the living room there was a row of dark wood cabinets topped with a polished wood counter. Ryker opened one glass-doored cupboard, withdrew two tumblers, and set them down on the counter. He poured them both club soda, added two olives to each glass, and threw a few handfuls of crackers onto a silver tray.

  “Voila,” he said, extending the tray with a flourish. “Dinner is served.”

  Alix giggled and took her glass from the tray. “Remind me not to come for a visit when I’m hungry.”

  Ryker gave her a playful leer. “I never said I couldn’t satisfy a woman’s hunger.”

  She clutched the cold, wet glass, the laughter fading as Ryker focused his attention on her lips. She swallowed nervously.

  “Ryker?”

  An endless moment passed, and Alix watched Ryker’s eyes flick from her face to her chest and then back. He set the tray on the counter.

  This time, she thought, she would be stronger. She would push him away before things even got started.

  Then why did you come? A voice in her head mocked. You know why he brought you here.

  He took a step toward her.

  She took a step back.

  You know what he wants. You want it too.

  He took another step. He was so close she could make out the long, dark lashes that surrounded his eyes and smell his warm skin.

  At that moment, in a stroke of divine intervention, the phone rang.

  Ryker cocked his head and studied her with a rueful smile. “I should get that. It could be the studio.”

  A cordless phone blinked from a table in the hall beside the front door. Ryker turned his back to her as he picked it up, the breadth of his shoulders startling under the crisp fabric of his shirt.

  “Hello? Oh, Rosa… No, I didn’t forget… Of course… Yes, yes, I know… Look, I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?” His voice had changed from inviting to curt and coldly efficient. He angled his body toward Alix, his eyes raking her as he spoke. “Yes, I’m bringing someone… All right. Good-bye.”

  He hung up the phone. “That was my sister. She’s having a dinner party tonight, and I promised I’d go. And bring a date.”

  “Oh.” Alix tried not to look disappointed. She set her glass down on an end table. “Well, you can drop me off at the studio. I’ve got plenty of work to do.”

  “You’re the date.”

  She cocked her head. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  A funny feeling tickled her stomach, a mix of anticipation and horror. She looked down at her jeans and baggy sweatshirt. “I’m not sure I’m dressed for it.”

  He frowned. “Traffic’s going to be hell. We won’t have time to swing by the hotel. I’ve got a few things in the spare bedroom. Something should fit.”

  Alix blinked. “Of course. I mean, who doesn’t have a few extra outfits in the closet. For the opposite sex.”

  His lips twisted in an approximation of a smile. “You never know when you’ll need it. Follow me.”

  The upstairs hallway was decorated with original prints by several of her favorite photographers—Laboznikov among them. They were arresting images but hardly optimistic, from a man on a bicycle in front of a line of broken-down apartment buildings to an empty field littered with trash with a lone tree growing in the middle.

  “Are you a collector?” she asked

  He shrugged. “I pick up things when they strike me.”

  The spare bedroom was dominated by a king-size bed covered with a quilt made from seemingly random geometric shapes and a cacophony of colors. Though it had no discernible pattern, the mix of hues and shapes was soft, peaceful, and extraordinarily beautiful.

  “What an amazing quilt,” she said.

  “My sister Rosalia made it.” He pointed to a wedding picture of a beautiful young black-haired woman. “That’s Rosa.” A line of other pictures in brightly colored frames decorated the dresser and bedside tables. There was a picture of an older man and woman; Rosalia with babies on either hip; and school pictures of young men who had to be Ryker’s brothers. In one tall, wooden frame there was a photo of a woman who looked to be in her late teens, holding a newborn infant. “And the rest of the family.”

  He opened a closet where a number of shirts and pants hung in a neat line. Alix tried to avoid getting too near to him. They were, after all, only a few feet from a bed. But he made no move to approach her, looking out the window with shuttered eyes that gave no hint as to what he was thinking.

  He gestured toward a closed door. “There’s the bathroom. You’re welcome to take a shower if you’d like.”

  She shook her head. It was impossible to imagine being naked in the same house with him.

  “I’m going for a quick swim. Make yourself at home. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  She nodded and waited until he had left the room to look through the closet. The clothes were casual, a few pairs of jeans and trousers, simple knit shirts, and one tiered peasant-style skirt. The sizes were a bit of a puzzle—they were a mix of comfortable size eights and tens, hardly supermodel garb. Also interesting was the discovery of a playpen at the back of the closet, and a stack of baby-girl clothes. She shook her head at that. It was impossible to imagine R
yker holding an infant.

  Alix tapped her mouth with one finger and considered her options. She was a size four, so the fitted pants probably wouldn’t work. The skirt, on the other hand, had an elastic waist, and even if it was too big to stay at her waist, it would at least fall somewhere around her hips. A tank top with a scooped neck matched the swirling blues and greens of the skirt, though it too was at least a size too big. She pulled the pieces from the closet and laid them carefully on the bed, then moved to the window to close the blind so she could try them on.

  Naturally, Ryker chose that moment to emerge from the house in a pair of low-slung navy bathing trunks.

  She sucked in her breath. It was like watching a scene from Garden of Eden, except that now she’d touched that body and felt those lips on hers. She studied his lean hips and the ridge of muscle separating stomach from groin. Warmth bloomed from her stomach to her breasts, and she shuddered at the flood of erotic images that followed.

  Ryker, naked, next to her in bed.

  Ryker, naked, in the pool.

  Ryker, naked, his head buried between her legs.

  He approached the edge of the pool and looked up, catching her eye as she gazed at him through the window. A hot blush swamped her cheeks as he grinned and dove neatly into the water.

  She jumped away from the window and fumbled with the cord until the blind dropped. Lord, he had a way of eating her alive with those dark eyes.

  Alix jerked on the clothes and then sat on the edge of the bed. Steady, methodical splashes came from the pool. He’d said it would be half an hour or so before they were to leave, and she would drive herself insane if she sat here the entire time, imagining him in the pool, the water sliding across his skin and bubbling around his…

  Clearly, she needed some distraction.

  As she padded back down the carpeted steps, she felt again that odd feeling of comfort that she’d experienced from the first moment she entered the living room. Her glass of club soda sat on an end table, water beading up on the sides, and she sank into the chair beside it.