Exposing Alix

by Scott, Inara

  He would have to make sure they weren’t alone together. As absurd as it sounded, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to touch her again if they were alone.

  She was just a woman. He would have to keep reminding himself of that fact. She was a foolish, love-struck, train wreck of a woman who was looking for a fairy-tale ending. But he was no prince, and they’d all be better off if he stayed far, far away.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Gunther motioned toward the white couch. Alix sat, realizing from the set to his jaw that he had something he wanted to say, and conversation was nonnegotiable. He waited until she was seated and then positioned himself across from her, leaning backward and steepling his fingers as he studied her.

  “So, do I kill him now or wait until my movie is done?”

  Alix laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ryker. What’s going on between you two? He hovers over you like a jealous boyfriend all night, practically punches Anthony Sloane in the nose, and then you disappear in a room together. When you come out, he’s wearing a thundercloud, and you look like death warmed over.”

  Alix sighed. She knew she couldn’t keep anything from Gunther. “It’s complicated. I’d rather not talk about it.”

  He waited. “So?”

  “I said I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “I know what you said. I’m ignoring it. I want to know the truth. Did he hurt you? Because if he did, I’m going to kill the bastard. You know that, don’t you?”

  Alix pushed herself to standing. She started to move around the room, collecting empty glasses and setting them on one of the buffet tables. “You can’t kill him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “The caterers will be here tomorrow morning to clean that up.”

  “I know. I need to keep my hands busy.” She gathered a handful of napkins and threw them on top of a small china plate and set that beside the glasses.

  “You don’t have to give me the gory details,” he said, voice softening. “I just want to help. He’s a hard man, Alix. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She chuckled weakly. “I’m too tough for that. You should know that by now.”

  Alix continued to roam the room, collecting trash and dishes. Gunther sat silently, his icy-blue eyes soft as they watched.

  “Did you get laid, at least?” he said.

  Alix spun around, mouth open. “Gunther!”

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Look, he’s a good-looking man. I could understand if you got carried away.”

  Alix snorted. “Now that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all night.”

  “You’ve been alone for a long time,” Gunther observed.

  Alix pushed back a lock of hair and stifled a fresh wave of tears. “I don’t want to talk about my love life. I’m happy in Oregon. I know it isn’t the life you think I should be living, but I’m fulfilled. You might as well accept that now, because I don’t think it’s going to change any time soon.”

  “So you’re giving up? You and Ryker have a falling out, and you’re giving up?”

  “There was no falling out,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “There was nothing to fall out of. And my life has been settled for a while. You’re the only one who can’t see that.”

  He stood and began to help her, carrying over to the buffet table a half-empty glass of wine and a plate still bearing two limp crab cakes. “Alix, do you know when was the first time you hugged me? I mean, initiated the hug. Not just hugged me back.”

  She narrowed her brows. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Humor me. Guess how long it was.”

  She didn’t have to guess. She remembered. She’d run over to him at her high school graduation and wrapped her arms around his neck, almost inadvertently. She’d been horror-stricken when she realized what she’d done, terrified he would push her away. And then infinitely relieved when he didn’t.

  “It was graduation,” he said, filling in the silence. “More than three years after we’d met, a year after I’d come to check you out of the hospital.”

  She paused, swirling melting ice around in a cup. “Ungrateful little thing, wasn’t I?”

  “No, you were a scared little thing,” he corrected gently. “No one taught you how to trust. No one showed you what it was like to depend on someone or to love them. What worries me, liebling, is that you still don’t quite have the hang of it. ”

  She jerked her head up. His words were uncannily close to Ryker’s. “What do you mean? I adore you and you know it. Even when you are being a busybody.”

  “I don’t mean with me. I mean with other men.” He walked over to the picture of the couple that hung over the mantel and dominated the room. He studied it as he spoke. “I knew after the miscarriage that you needed space to heal. I even encouraged you to photograph weddings because I thought that way you’d have some exposure to couples who loved each other. But along the way, the wires got crossed. I think you gave up on reality. I think what happened to you was so frightening, you figured out a way to ensure it would never happen again.”

  Cold fingers trailed up the back of her spine. She’d barely gotten herself under control after Ryker’s attack by blacking out his words. She’d told herself he was wrong. Crazy. It only hurt because she wanted to trust him and now she knew she couldn’t. But she hadn’t anticipated a new attack from Gunther.

  “That’s absurd. I just decided not to have sex again until I fell in love. I don’t see how that’s giving up on reality. I would be thrilled to find someone. I just don’t have any luck with men. Lots of women have a hard time finding someone. It isn’t like I’m some kind of freak.”

  “Of course you aren’t. The problem is that I think deep down you’ve decided it’s never going to happen. Your vow of celibacy has turned into a kind of crutch. It’s become the excuse you use to push men away. You used to be terrified to say no, and now I think you’re terrified to say yes.”

  Alix shook her head. At least, unlike Ryker, he hadn’t said she didn’t believe in love. “You’re wrong. I just haven’t found the right guy.”

  “The way you’re going, you never will. You’re living through that damned book, Alix. Every time you take a new set of pictures it gives you a fresh excuse to lock yourself in that cabin and avoid putting yourself out there. I’m not blaming you, because you did what you had to do to survive. But you can’t love without risk. That’s the part you haven’t figured out. You’re trying to find the perfect, risk-free relationship before you commit your heart and your body, and it just isn’t out there. I’m sorry, but it just isn’t.”

  Alix rubbed her biceps. “I don’t understand why you’re saying all this. Do you want me to sleep with Ryker? Is that it? Are you telling me I should throw myself at Ryker so I can have the experience of being hurt? I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in that kind of life lesson.”

  Gunther walked over and held her at arms’ length. “No. I’m not telling you to sleep with Ryker. I would much prefer that you don’t, actually, because I would miss him if I had to kill him. But I am telling you that the path you’re on is leading nowhere. I just want you to be happy, liebling. Is that so crazy?”

  She leaned forward, collapsing into his arms. “No,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “No. It isn’t crazy at all.”

  #

  Alix walked into the studio just before six a.m. on Monday. Too bloody early after yet another night with little sleep. Her stomach churned with anxiety as she contemplated seeing Ryker again. After a long, painful weekend of reliving her conversation with him and with Gunther, part of her wanted nothing more than to hide in her room and cry the day away. But the other part—the part with pride—was determined to show Ryker that he hadn’t hurt her. That his words hadn’t cut right to the heart of every fear and doubt she’d ever had and those she hadn’t even known existed.

  Ryker stood beside Amir and Frank, pointing toward the fake w
indow at the back of the stage. The set was surprisingly busy. The first morning she’d been there, it had just been the two of them. Today, Frank, the director of photography, was there, along with camera crew, gaffer, grips, the caterers, Nick, who she hadn’t seen since her first day on the set, and a number of black-clad young people whose purpose seemed to be standing around looking bored.

  Ryker didn’t notice she was there until Nick waved. Then he turned, and a wry smile touched one side of his mouth as his eyes flicked over her loose, threadbare jeans, faded NYU film school T-shirt, and thick glasses. As usual, his presence hit her like a punch to the gut, the air seemingly sucked from her lungs at the sight of the full lips, dark skin, and broad shoulders she’d touched so intimately just a few days before.

  But that part of their relationship was over. They’d come too far to go down that path ever again.

  She hurried the rest of the way to the coffee table and focused on looking nonchalant and unconcerned when Ryker started toward her.

  “I thought about it over the weekend and decided you were right,” he said when he reached her side. “No sense in pushing things too hard today. We’ll get some film this morning, and then after lunch, we’ll take the afternoon off and go out to Marina del Ray. Gunther offered to take us for a cruise.”

  “Oh, I see. Sounds lovely.” She fought the sudden urge to pour her coffee all over his perfectly groomed hair and wrinkle-free linen shirt. How could he look so unconcerned? So off-hand? How dare he not have dark circles under his eyes, a stuffy nose and headache like she did from sobbing into her pillow until three in the morning? “I guess I should have brought my boat shoes.”

  Ryker chuckled, but it was an uneasy laugh, punctuated by a cough. While she added cream to her coffee, he cleared his throat and jammed his hands into his pockets.

  “Are you, er, okay? I mean, is everything all right?” He shifted on his feet.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, wanting for a moment to watch him squirm.

  “I mean…” He glanced around the room and dropped his voice. “I mean, after Friday. Things got a little out of hand. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine.” Though it would have been fun to keep him dangling in discomfort, her pride wouldn’t allow it. “There’s really nothing to talk about.”

  He frowned. “I had no right to say those things. I’m not sure what came over me. It was the whole day—Lena, the party, Gunther… I wanted to apologize.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said casually. “Can we drop it, please?

  “You’re sure?” He sounded painfully eager.

  She forced an easy shrug. “I thought from the start that it was a mistake for us to get involved. Friday night was…well, it was Friday night. We got too personal. So let’s forget it, okay? Get back to work?”

  He nodded vigorously. “Sure. Fine. Whatever you want.” He started talking, with visible relief, about whether it would be better to shoot the scene from Lena’s point of view or Jake’s, and whether they should open with a frame of the paperweight that Lena would later use on one of the thugs her brother sent after Jake.

  Alix stared at his dark hair, the long, elegant fingers he waved as he spoke, and decided that she hated him.

  She hated his self-assured cynicism. She hated the way he made her feel—the longing, the aching need for his touch. She even hated the way she trusted him and the way his darkness made her question the very core of her beliefs.

  And just to add to the pile, she hated him for the fact that she’d been ashamed, ever since Friday night, for the way she’d responded to Anthony Sloane. She now regretted every interview she’d done, every chance she’d missed to proclaim her beliefs to the world. Not because he was right about the way she felt, but because he was wrong, and she had done nothing to correct him.

  But there was nothing she could do about that now. She could only look to the future. The next time the reporters called, she’d tell them the truth. She’d say all the things she told Ryker, and damn the consequences.

  Meanwhile, life would go on as it had before. Ryker was running from her as fast as his legs could go, and she could hardly blame him. They were the most unlikely of couples. He was nothing more than an actor with an unfortunate family history and a terminal fear of relationships. He wanted nothing to do with love. For her, love was the only thing that truly mattered.

  She didn’t know what to think about Gunther’s accusations. She supposed it was possible, in a small way, that he was right. She was scared of being hurt. But she didn’t believe that she had been pushing men away or that she was burying herself in her photos because she was avoiding having a real relationship. After all, look at what had happened with Ryker. If she’d truly been pushing him away, they wouldn’t have ended up leaning against a doorway together, his pants around his ankles.

  She was here to make an easy hundred grand and then get back to her book as soon as possible. That was the only way she’d be able to put the doubts Ryker and Gunther raised to rest. She didn’t need to sleep with Ryker or fall in love with him for love to be real. She just needed to finish the damn book. It didn’t matter if she put the name Daisy or Alix on it. She wasn’t scared to believe in it. She just needed to finish it.

  Not to prove it to Ryker.

  To prove it to herself.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Lena adjusted her sunglasses and rearranged her position on the front deck of Gunther’s gleaming white yacht. Carefully, she fixed her bikini top so it lay smoothly over her breasts, and arched her back so her stomach appeared even flatter than it was. Her hip bones jutted nicely from the waistband of her low-rise capri pants. The breeze ruffled her hair, which sparkled with chestnut highlights in the intense sunlight of late afternoon.

  Everything was perfect.

  She glanced over at Jake, hoping he would give her one of those smoldering looks she’d been pretending not to notice all morning. When they left the dock, she’d made sure to take off her top slowly, right next to him, and he’d leaned over when no one was looking and breathed in her ear, “You’ll do that for me later tonight, won’t you?”

  She shivered with anticipation. Even the thought of being alone with him caused a pool of liquid heat to form between her thighs. Having sex with Jake hadn’t solved anything, of course. She didn’t trust him, refused to look at him while they made love, and certainly had no intention of picking up where they left off, as he seemed to suggest.

  But things had been easier today. Something inside her had been liberated, and she’d felt different, more comfortable in her skin. Though a wave of pure terror still washed over her every time she thought about getting into bed with Jake with the cameras rolling and her eyes open, she no longer felt compelled to run away.

  And she had to admit, Jake knew his way around a woman’s body. She didn’t like to think about where he’d gained all his experience, but in the ten years since they’d slept together, he’d become more patient, more skilled. He’d mastered her, played her body like a delicate instrument, and given her more pleasure than she’d thought possible.

  She focused on him and gritted her teeth. Damn it, he was still hovering over Alix like she was Jodi goddamn Foster, nodding and smiling like a fool after everything she said.

  Alix had put on a pair of enormous sunglasses, and she’d removed her shoes and rolled up her jeans and the sleeves of her ragged T-shirt. It was painful, really, to see how conspicuously awful she managed to make herself look. Nothing she wore fit right, her stomach wasn’t nearly as flat as Lena’s, and her hair—well, suffice to say that Lena doubted she even had a comb.

  Yet Jake didn’t seem to mind. He had barraged Alix with questions during the long ride to the coast, asking about her master’s thesis, her movies, her theories about filming sex, and then kept agreeing with everything she said or exclaiming “Oh, of course!” as if she’d just explained the meaning of life and it was exactly what he’d thought all along.

/>   Ryker drove them down in a sedan he borrowed from the studio. He’d insisted they ride together. Bonding or some such nonsense. Jake had offered the front seat to Lena and, thinking it best that they not sit next to each other, she’d accepted. But that had only put him in Alix’s lap.

  One would think he’d at least have the decency to pretend not to like her. At least when Lena was sitting only a few feet away.

  The only enjoyable part of the entire ride was realizing that Ryker was as irritated as she was by Jake’s fawning behavior. Every few minutes, he would look in the rearview mirror and scowl. Once, when Jake actually touched Alix’s shoulder, Ryker changed lanes so fast Lena thought she might get whiplash.

  Hard to believe there might be something serious developing between Ryker and Alix, with him being one of the sexiest men on the planet and her being somewhere close to housewife material.

  “You did good work today.” Ryker’s deep voice cut into her thoughts.

  Lena deliberately turned her back to Jake and Alix. She straightened her waistband again and took a sip of her gin and tonic. “Thanks.” Then, because she knew she had to say it, she forced herself to go on. “And thanks for being so…understanding. I guess I’ve been a little difficult lately.”

  He smiled, dark skin framing his snow-white teeth. Lena wondered, for the hundredth time, why she couldn’t get interested in Ryker. He was absurdly handsome and widely recognized to be a rising star, both as an actor and director. Yet for all that, nothing he did made her pulse race the way a single look from Jake could.

  “Difficult?” He chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

  Lena returned the smile. If nothing else, it was a huge relief to be able to talk to Ryker without feeling sick inside.

  When they’d started shooting, she’d been so stunned that she’d actually gotten the part, and so nervous that she’d screw it up, that she could barely look him in the eye. He was a great director, and she was nothing but a pretty face. Things had gone well at first, but he was still hopelessly intimidating.