by Nicole Helm
“Annie is my mother and our part-time secretary. She usually works from home, but she’s up here on Wednesdays. Ryan’s my brother. He’s a lawyer in Kansas City.”
She nodded. “And your father and grandfather?”
Nate didn’t scowl, though that’s what he wanted to do. “Hard to say. We don’t keep strict schedules around here, Ms. Marsh. You’re around for a week, right?”
She nodded.
“You’ll meet them all eventually.”
She frowned at that and studied her notes. “I see. Well, I have a lot of work to do this evening. Thank you for your cooperation. If I come by tomorrow around eight will someone be here?”
“Ten would be better.”
She let out a sigh. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He moved toward the door with her, intent on walking her to her car. “Where are you staying?”
“A place called Ivy Vines. It looked like the best option.”
“The only option, anyway.”
“Not a ringing endorsement.”
“Never been inside, but it doesn’t have the best reputation.” In Demo, not the best reputation was the worst of the worst. Nate studied her just-so outfit and hair. “It’s certainly not LA-nice from the outside view.”
She waved it off. “You have no idea how many weird places I’ve been to, and how many less-than-accommodating places I’ve had to stay.”
“Why don’t you tell me about some of them?” He widened his smile, a smile that usually got him what he wanted with the opposite sex, at least for a little while. “Over dinner.”
Not his best pickup line, and the chance of some sexy, successful California woman hopping into bed with him was crazy slim. Especially when he had no interest in giving her what she wanted—a show. Why not take a shot, though? He worked too hard not to take an opportunity for fun when it presented itself.
Vivvy didn’t say no or shy away, she looked up at him thoughtfully. “Is there someplace decent to eat in Demo?”
“Decent.”
“All right. I should go back and work on my report. I could be done by seven.”
“I’ll be in the lobby at seven, then.”
She stood. He stood. He had the blinding urge to kiss her. Luckily she held out her hand for a professional shake. “I’ll see you soon, Nate.”
He held onto her hand longer than necessary, and squeezed. “Soon.”
She studied him, then her lips curved upward. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”
“I surely hope so.”
She laughed, a low, throaty laugh that had his gut clenching with blinding lust again. But she was already to her car. With one last wave, she slid in and drove away.
He might be trouble, but he had nothing on Vivvy Marsh.
Chapter Two
“It’s looking good. Promising. I have a business dinner with Nathan Harrington this evening. You can tell Lee and Gerry I’ll e-mail them a full report in the morning.”
“Okay. That should hold them. So, you really think this one is going to work out?” Ellen’s voice lowered and Vivvy knew it was her confidant tone. The tone she used to try to lure Vivvy into a friendship.
Mainly she kept Ellen and her attempts at arm’s length, but she was still the closest thing Vivvy had to a genuine friend.
“Yes.” It was tempting to offer more. To gossip about Nate’s looks or confide in Ellen over the doubts Nate had, but that would be giving away too much.
Vivvy applied lipstick with the phone cradled between ear and shoulder. She had the control over her life now, wasn’t the little girl begging her itinerant actor parents to stay in one place, but that didn’t mean she had any illusions about herself.
Somewhere along the line she’d lost the ability to open up to that connection, and that was fine. Preferable, really.
“Just make sure they know it’s all going great. That I’m beyond confident.”
“I will.” Ellen paused. “You know, if there’s anything I can do to help...”
“You’ll be the first one I call, Ellen, thanks.”
“So, where do you think a business dinner in the middle of nowhere happens? I’m guessing sushi or fine dining is out.”
“Well, I haven’t had a Big Mac in years. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
When Ellen laughed, Vivvy knew they were skirting friend territory instead of coworker territory. “I have to go. Don’t forget to—”
“I’ve already written it down. I’ll tell them you called and things are good the minute they’re out of the meeting.”
Vivvy said her good-byes and then gave herself one last look in the mirror. Business dinner was probably a stretch, but what could be the harm? Dinner with Nate certainly wouldn’t impede her professional judgment. It wasn’t like sharing food and maybe a bottle of wine would make her some kind of mindless idiot incapable of making her own decisions.
Even mind-blowing sex wouldn’t do that. Not that she was planning on having sex with Nate. Sure she’d found a drugstore on her way back to the hotel, and yes, she’d bought a box of condoms, but...
Oh, who was she kidding? If Nate offered, she was going to jump his bones. He was gorgeous, charming, and the perfect candidate for a no-strings-attached affair. She was only here a week. And even if Tyson picked up the show, she’d move on to the next one. What could go wrong?
She’d changed into a black skirt with a high enough slit to show off some thigh with the right movement. Her plum button-up shirt was the one she’d worn all day, but she’d ditched the jacket and unbuttoned the shirt a little so her cleavage was more visible. A touch of smoky eye makeup, exchanging two-inch heels for three, and she was quite satisfied with the look. It was still professional, but a more seductive professional. Appropriate attire no matter which direction the evening took.
Hopefully it kept her away from Ivy Vines.
Ivy Vines was no five-star hotel. Maybe a half of a star. No, a fourth of a star. Everything was dingy, old. There was an incriminating stain on the carpet on one side of the bed. The man who had checked her in had made no bones about staring at her chest.
She would be spending as much time as possible away from this place. Even keep her suitcase in the trunk of her rental car. And find somewhere else to shower. If the sink was any indication, the shower would be dirty and hairy.
Vivvy glanced at the clock. Seven. Thank God. She made sure all her valuables were in her purse before leaving the room and heading for the lobby.
In the dim entry of the motel, Nate was already waiting. That, at least, made her smile.
He had changed into darker wash jeans and a black button-up shirt casually open at his throat. He still looked windswept and sexy. Most of the guys she had dated in LA were artistic actor types. More lanky than built, more tailored than casually mussed. Bored and aloof more than easygoing and funny. More needy and whiny than confident and casual.
Kansas’s appeal kept growing.
When his eyes met hers, there it was again. That warm wave of irredeemable lust. He crossed to her, full lips curving upward and softening the hard lines of his cheekbones.
“Vivvy.”
God, she already loved the way he said her name. Every time low, intimate, as though he was savoring each v.
“Nate.”
“This place is even worse inside.”
She tried to laugh it off. “No kidding. It’ll do for a few nights. Better than a tent in the woods.” Maybe.
“I know it’s none of my business, but you might not want to stay here. The guy behind the desk? Jason. Total wack job.”
“Great.” Wack job Jason had checked her in and knew her room number. “I don’t suppose there’s anywhere else to stay in Demo?”
“No. There’s a decent hotel in Addington, but it’s a forty-five-minute drive.”
Vivvy sighed. The tent was looking better and better. “I’ll risk it for one night, and if it really is that bad, I suppose I’ll go to Addington tomorrow.�
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“We can postpone if—”
She shook her head. “No need to postpone. I need a very large glass of wine before I do anything.”
“It’s a nice night and the restaurant is just down the street. I thought we could walk.” His eyes traveled to her heels, though they took their sweet time. “Unless you’d rather drive.”
“I’ve walked a lot farther than that in higher heels than these.”
He extended his arm, and she linked hers with his. It was an innocent touch as touches went, but the proximity was enough to make her heartbeat pick up.
“So, tell me about all these places you’ve been that are worse than Demo. Worse than Ivy Vines.”
They walked down the main drag, which had a certain small-town charm to it. Window fronts, an excess of antiques stores, uneven sidewalks, and aging brick. It was still light outside, though the sun had disappeared behind the stout buildings to the west. Vivvy noticed that the moon was visible overhead, and she had the foolish thought to look out for the first star to wish on.
Instead, she thought back on the past few years and the strange situations her job had put her in. “Ponton, Vermont. The family I was going to interview recommended this bed-and-breakfast. Vegan food only. No Wi-Fi. Every time I left my room they tried to convince me to do yoga with them. Naked, I might add.”
Vivvy smiled at his sidelong look. Ponton wasn’t the worst place she’d ever stayed, though it was one of the strangest. She’d just told the story hoping he would picture her naked.
“Naked?”
Ah, it worked. “Yes. It wasn’t a pretty sight.” But, naked yoga with Nate? That was an idea she could get behind.
He led her into a small restaurant in one of the brick buildings.
The young hostess smiled broadly at Nate. “Hi, Nate.”
“Evening, Sandy. Table for two.”
The young woman eyed Vivvy and didn’t look too pleased. Still, young Sandy led them to a booth in the back, away from the few other patrons.
The restaurant was nicer than Vivvy had expected. Sure, it would be laughed at in LA as hokey, but there was something kind of nice about the simplicity of it when compared to the pretentious, avant-garde restaurants she usually went to. The menu was small and very American. The decor could use some updating, but it was clean. After her brief hour at Ivy Vines, cleanliness seemed like a miracle. Even the wine list wasn’t horrendous. Subpar, but not horrendous. Vivvy decided on a decent red, debated ordering a whole bottle.
“You grew up here?” she asked.
“Born and raised.”
“Did you always want to be part of Harrington?” She scanned the menu even though she’d much rather be scanning Nate.
“Is this a business dinner, Vivvy?”
“No.” Vivvy looked up from the menu. “But if we discuss business, I can charge it to Tyson.” She flashed a smile, but he didn’t smile back. Instead, some of the easy charm flickered off his face.
“I’m paying for dinner. I did invite you.”
Male pride. It must be such a burden to carry around. “And I accepted. Why not charge it to the men who sent me here?”
He seemed to consider this. “I still haven’t figured that out. Why they sent you here, that is.”
“That’s the way our company works. So many ideas or possibilities never make it to the filming stage. They need someone to figure out what’s a good bet to pursue and when it’s best to fold.”
“Enter you.”
“Enter me.”
“Doesn’t that mean you don’t get to scout the TV shows you’re interested in? You just get assigned whatever, whenever.”
“Well, yes, but there’s something nice about that. Never knowing what’s next.” Of course, there’d be something nice about getting to pick her projects, too, but that’s not how Tyson worked.
“Don’t think I could do it. Pay attention to things I’m not interested in.” He leaned back in the booth, his eyes focused on her mouth. “But when I am interested, I give something my full attention.”
She studied Nate. There was something about him that would be good on TV. It wasn’t just the good looks. He seemed to understand his audience. Know when to use the charm. And when charm didn’t matter. If that translated when cameras were on him, even a not-so-great concept could run them a few seasons. If his family was equally charming, this might be exactly what she needed.
Maybe Demo, Kansas, had something to offer after all. Life would be so much easier if this show possibility turned out to be an amazing one.
With Nate, there was the possibility for amazing—in and out of a bedroom.
“You’re thinking about business, Vivvy.”
“How can you tell?”
“You stopped flirting with me.” He grinned, charm in place. “I prefer flirting to business, and smiles over that cool, unreadable business face you’ve got going on. Especially since my family won’t be doing the show.”
Vivvy shifted in her seat. Her cool, unreadable business facade was what had gotten her this far, was what worked for her day in and day out. But he had a point, because there was a nonbusiness element to Nate she would be very interested in enjoying. Besides, now was not the time to persuade him about business. Now was the time for enjoyment.
“Lucky for you, tonight I prefer that, too.”
The waiter, a shaggy young man who looked either bored or stoned out of his mind, took their drink orders and then ambled away.
“Where’d you grow up? LA?”
“All over.” Vivvy looked out the window of the restaurant and saw the few lights of Demo twinkling. “My parents were stage actors.”
“Ah, so you went into the family business then?” Nate smiled. “I can relate to that.”
She twisted the stem of her wineglass on the table. “Not exactly. I would have acted like my parents wanted me to if I had been interested in the family business.” Acting required too much emotion. Attaching to a role, then leaving it behind. Scouting suited her much better.
“So, why TV production?”
Vivvy tried to focus, instead of losing herself in retrospection. “We ended up in LA when Mom got a job on a soap. I took a temp job at a production company one summer, and I worked for a scout. I’ve never stayed anywhere long, so it was a good fit for me.” She frowned at herself. Talking too much was not something she usually found herself guilty of.
“So, you never stick with one show?”
She shifted in her seat. It was uncomfortable he would focus in on that one aspect. Nate was just asking to ask, to keep the conversation going, but the idea of not sticking reminded her of Steven’s almost exact same words last year. You don’t stick. I was only ever an afterthought. It was inevitable that I would find someone else.
Vivvy swallowed. She was not taking any more trips down memory lane tonight. “No. My job is to scout, not develop.” Because she was much better at finding something bright than nurturing something into brightness. There wasn’t a lot of nurture in her makeup. She was much more adept at cutting through bullshit and telling it like it was.
“Does it ever bother you, doing all the work for someone else? You don’t seem the type to enjoy taking orders.”
She fought off the frown her mouth wanted to slide into. She couldn’t tell if he was that perceptive or just lucky, but she didn’t like the way the conversation was shifting to her. “It pays the bills,” she offered as nonchalantly as possible.
She was more than a little grateful to see the waiter emerge from the kitchen. He brought the bottle of wine over and plopped it on the table.
“I imagine that’s not how it’s done in California,” Nate noted when the waiter left. He poured her a glass, then sipped from the bottle of beer the waiter had brought him.
“Not exactly, no. Of course, if I keep comparing California to Demo I’ll never get anything else done.”
“And what do you do in California for fun? Life isn’t all TV, is it?”
“
No. It isn’t.” But it was, mostly. Work. Work functions. About the only thing she did much of, aside from work, was fiddle around with video or photo editing. A silly little pastime also mostly done for work.
“What about you? What’s the allure of planes and flying?” After all, being here had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him.
Nate’s grin softened into something that spoke of a deep and abiding love she knew she could never understand.
“It’s genetics. My great-grandpa was a pilot in World War I, and from there on all the Harrington men have been plane-obsessed. Grandpa built Harrington Airfield and I grew up there. You grow up with the grease and the tools and the sky as your playground and, well, there’s no hope of doing anything else. You’re connected, no matter what.”
Nate began to tell a story about his first solo flight, but it wasn’t a monologue. He brought her in, asked her questions, wove the story in a way that made her forget why she was in Demo at all.
It was easy to get lost in his green eyes, because they weren’t just green. There were hints of blue and brown in them as well, depending on the lighting and the surroundings. And the focused attention he gave her, sometimes it made his gaze feel like a caress.
The waiter brought their food, which gave Vivvy enough time to regroup. She’d never been one for getting carried away with anything, but Nate was carrying her along easily.
Yes, he would be good on-screen. He could carry the whole damn show. Vivvy smiled. She wouldn’t be going back to LA empty-handed after all.
…
Nate watched Vivvy glide her fingers up and down the stem of the wineglass. He didn’t think she was trying to make the movement erotic, but it drew his thoughts that way as she talked about another one of the crazy TV ideas she’d researched.
There was more to this woman than met the eye. Something about the way her job echoed her moving around a lot as a kid poked at him. She wasn’t strangled by obligation. She could and did leave, as par for the course. Just like Ry. Nate had always been jealous of people who could do that. There were many things about his life he wished he could leave in the dust.
Grandpa, Harrington, even Demo itself held him by some cord he couldn’t cut. No matter what bad things happened, he was tethered to Harrington. He didn’t belong anywhere else.