by Claire Marti
Him riding a million takes on the horse?
A shadow of Jack peering at the script?
The cabin and yard, making it obvious the movie was a historical?
Or simply blurry shadows?
Probably only blurry shadows, right?
What good would it do for him to tell everyone now? The fact Harry was filming a Western wasn’t a secret. But the location was supposed to be. Damn it.
Was the media aware the movie was filming there and trying to get photos of People’s Sexiest Man Alive and Hollywood’s highest paid actress? Sometimes early on set photos would titillate the public’s excitement for a new film and up the box office results. But Harry had sworn to keep the set location under wraps.
Or was somebody clever enough to find out it was Chris McNeill’s ranch and sense a juicy story?
Either way, they’d figure out it was McNeill’s ranch and the tabloids would have a field day excavating the decade old tragic story. Pamela McNeill’s death had changed the course of the McNeill family’s life forever. Altered the course of Samantha’s life forever.
His gut clenched. Oh shit––Sam. She would go ballistic if she heard photographers had been here. She would try to convince her dad to move the production off their land before it was too late. More importantly, she would be devastated if the headlines read Chris McNeill Back on Set for the First Time since his Wife’s Tragic Death.
“Sorry boy.” He tightened the reins and cursed under his breath. Rocco angled his head back, his brown eyes questioning.
“We can’t go back to the house yet Rocco. Sorry.” Holt couldn’t play the wait and see game with the paparazzi. He wouldn’t risk hurting Sam.
If he alerted Harry now, the most powerful man in Hollywood might be able to kill the story before it appeared. And even if it meant postponing his own plans to retire and start his business when this movie was done, so be it. Even if it meant losing all his savings he’d invested. A sour taste rose in the back of his throat and he expelled a shaky breath.
He’d be damned if the paparazzi would screw up the movie or worse, destroy Sam and her family’s peaceful refuge.
He changed directions and urged Rocco back down the hill to once again share news nobody on Pacific Vista Ranch wanted to hear.
So much for a leisurely swim or a cold shower.
23
I really don’t have time for an impromptu family meeting. I’m elbow deep in rehabbing the McCullough’s mare. What do you think this is all about?” Amanda huffed, her usually soothing voice exasperated.
“No clue. Maybe the location isn’t working out after all and they want to film somewhere else?”
Why did her heart constrict considering Holt leaving before the end of the month? Once his taillights disappeared and the gate closed silently behind him, she’d probably never see him again. Well, unless she was watching an action adventure movie and scanning the dangerous scenes for any glimpse of him. And wasn’t that just pathetic?
“Your dad said they’d be up to the house in five minutes. I’ve got some fresh lemonade and some new local IPAs. We’ll be covered whatever the news might be.” Angela set down the drink tray on the dining room table, the official family meeting space.
Her sister paced back and forth across the hardwood floors, her generally stoic nerves nowhere in sight.
“Sit, Amanda. The clicking of your boots is driving me nuts.” The tick tock pattern of her walking reminded her of the old Poe story, The Telltale Heart. A sign of impending doom? Why did everything feel ominous right now? If one of the horses was hurt... Her temples began throbbing in time with her sister’s steps.
Chris burst into the house and strode to the table with Harry and Holt trailing behind him. His jaw was clenched, his tic was pulsing, and his face was flushed. Three clear signs he was spitting mad. “Angela, girls, let’s sit down.”
Sam couldn’t read Holt’s expression and Harry could win the World Series of Poker with the impassive look on his face.
Okay, so they weren’t going to waste any time on pleasantries. What in the world had happened this afternoon?
“Are the horses okay?” She couldn’t sit down and have a civilized discussion if something had happened to her animals.
“The horses are fine. Everyone, please sit.” Her dad sank into his customary seat at the head of the table. His tone was clipped.
Once they were all seated, he turned to Holt. “Why don’t you share what you saw? And, everyone, please let him tell the whole story before you ask questions.” He turned and narrowed his eyes at her.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms and hunched into the dining room chair.
“I hate to be the one bearing bad news––” Holt snagged her gaze for a brief moment before looking around the table.
Holt’s crystal blue eyes caught hers again for a second and he arched a brow. “Here’s what happened. I was riding back toward the house and saw some bursts of light in the trees by the far fence. It’s so hot and hazy and at first I thought maybe flames were breaking out on the property. A fire.” He hesitated.
“I couldn’t smell any smoke so I rode over to see what it could be. When I got closer, I realized it was the flash from a camera.” He paused again.
Sam shot to her feet. “A camera?” She whirled on her father. “Dad, cameras over the walls? Paparazzi?”
“Samantha, sit down. Please. Let him finish.” The grooves around her dad’s mouth deepened.
She plopped back into the chair, but her entire body was vibrating and heat raced up the back of her neck. The pounding in her temples increased to a death march.
“I climbed up the tree and there was a little sleaze ball with one of those long-range lenses snapping photos. I tried to grab him but he managed to get over the fence. The jerk had a ladder. I yelled at him not to publish anything or he’d get sued, but he peeled out in some crappy truck.” Holt’s posture was rigid and his sculpted lips compressed into a tight line.
Sam ground her back teeth together and struggled to slow down her rapidly escalating breath. She would not lose it.
She had full control of her temper. Of course she did. Hyperventilation notwithstanding.
She would keep quiet until the story was finished if it killed her.
“How in the world did they find out about the movie so soon? What happened to the airtight security? The ironclad privacy agreement?” Amanda glared at Harry, her creamy skin ghastly white.
“I’m going to find out. Everyone I hired is fully aware of the privacy and security. They also know damn well if they violate the contract their careers are finished. They won’t be able to work at the concession stand of a movie theater in Juneau, Alaska, if I find out they talked to the press. I don’t think it was anyone on set.” Harry’s jaw was set and his eyes were glacial obsidian chips.
“Well, who the hell was it? Someone obviously alerted the press the movie was being filmed here. We’ve been here over a decade and never once has a photographer climbed the wall.” Sam slapped a hand onto the rustic wood table and glowered at the director.
Nobody spoke.
“Dad?” Her stomach churned and bile rose in her throat. Not again. Please not again.
Chris raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “I have to agree with Harry. All these people care about is making movies. They wouldn’t be dumb enough to risk their careers by crossing him. I just have no idea who would do this.”
“Is there anyone here on the ranch who might––” Holt looked around the room, brows raised.
“Nobody on the ranch would do this. They are loyal, they make a great living, and are dedicated.” Sam declared. Nobody would betray the McNeills or endanger the ranch’s profitable operations.
“She’s right. We have a small staff, but most of them have been with us since the beginning. I doubt they’d want to have any harm come to the ranch. It’s in their best interest to keep things as they are.” Angela nodded her head.
“What about the neighbors bringing their horses in for rehab? Outside people?” Holt asked her sister.
Amanda shook her head, her skin still sheet-white, her eyes shards of bottle green glass. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never discussed the movie with anybody and the rehab facility is near the main ranch entrance. The horses come in via trailer and never go beyond the clinic area. There’s no way they could know the movie equipment or filming would be happening on the other side of the ranch. We’ve got over two hundred acres, remember?”
“What if someone saw the eighteen-wheelers and trailers arriving? Would those stand out on the single lane roads here?” Holt rubbed the scar on his forehead.
Amanda shook her head. “It’s not uncommon to see big trucks and trailers through here. Remember, everyone has horses in Rancho Santa Fe.”
“She’s right. It isn’t any of our people and my gut tells me it isn’t the movie crew either. So how in the hell did the stupid photographer end up in one of our trees?” Her dad bumped his fist on the table; the tic in his temple giving away his barely veiled temper.
“Well, however it happened, we can all agree the paparazzi wouldn’t be here unless the movie was here.” Sam snapped out the words and gripped the table so tightly her knuckles ached. “So, the filming here needs to end. Today. And Harry you need to quash this story and photos.” Cut. The End. Sayonara baby. It’s a wrap. They all had to leave.
“Hold on.” Harry held both hands up. “Hold on. Let’s not be hasty. Let me make some calls. I’ll make it crystal clear there will be major consequences if one single photo of a blade of grass from this ranch shows up anywhere. I can fix this. Chris?” He looked at her dad.
Her dad’s brows drew together. “Damn you, Harry. You swore everything would be simple. You had it all under control. We haven’t even shot one full day and already the press knows a movie’s being shot here. How the hell can I trust you now?”
“Look, both Jack and Ella have rabid fans. The photographer probably just got wind they were here and wanted to be the first to snap photos of them.” Harry looked around the table, reverting back to the charming Hollywood dealmaker.
“How do you know? How do you know they won’t dredge up everything? Do you think they won’t do the research and see this is our ranch? What if they dig up the story about our mom’s death? The accident? The scandal?” Sam shot to her feet and tightened her grip on the table with both hands. Her temples were pounding, her heart was racing, and she had the urge to toss her glass at Harry’s dumb pointy head.
“Everything with your mother happened a long time ago Samantha––” Harry’s tone was one used to address rabid animals or sociopaths wielding AK-47s.
“You weren’t at the funeral with reporters screaming at us or at our house when the helicopters were swarming, when reporters were camped in front of our gate, Harry,” Chris turned toward his old friend. “Those bastards followed the girls to school.” He closed his eyes and exhaled.
“Chris, I’m sorry about it, believe me. I think we all need to calm down for a moment. I’m sure I can fix it.”
Chris stood, his voice deadly calm and his hazel eyes flashing. “I’m not happy about this, especially since I’m the one who agreed to allow the filming. So here’s what we’re doing. Harry—make some calls and report back in an hour. Amanda, go back to the rehab center and try to focus on work. Sam and I will ride around the ranch and make sure all the fences are secure. Angela, do you want to ride with us or stay here?”
Everyone was silent for a moment, the tension in the air as thick as the Santa Ana haze lingering outside.
“I’ll stay here.”
“I could ride out with you guys.” Holt stood.
Sam shook her head. “No. This is family business.”
He looked at her with brows raised over hot eyes.
“It’s okay, Holt. It’s something Sam and I should do together. Thanks for the offer.” Her dad shook his head.
“Yeah, thanks for the offer.” Sam avoided looking at Holt. “Dad, let’s go.”
The headache and stomach pain intensified and she prayed she wouldn’t barf all over the kitchen. Her mind told her this wasn’t Holt’s fault––he had a lot riding on this film and wouldn’t risk losing it. Logic wasn’t leading the way now, however.
Family preservation was all that mattered and anybody who wasn’t part of the McNeill clan…she couldn’t be around right now. Not even Holt.
Especially Holt.
Everything about him was intertwined with this movie. His smart-ass sense of humor, their off the charts chemistry, and his surprisingly tender side. Right now she needed to focus on protecting Pacific Vista Ranch and forgetting about this movie.
His presence was a painful reminder their lives, as they knew them, could be over.
24
Here goes nothing. Sam hesitated, her hand gripping the doorknob, the cool smoothness a balm against the turmoil twisting inside her. She opened the door without bothering to knock. No need for manners at this point.
“Holt.” She strode into the great room and jerked to a stop. Swallowed to moisten her suddenly dry throat. He was sprawled on the dark leather couch, sporting a pair of running shorts and nothing else.
Could this man ever put a shirt on?
“I figured you’d be by. Did you guys find anything?” He shifted to a seated position, the sleek muscles in his chiseled chest and abs rippled; oh lord those abs. His smooth bronzed skin made him look like he was carved from caramel. She loved caramel.
She licked her lips and stared.
“Sam?” His dark blond brows arched.
Her well-rehearsed speech evaporated. Every last brain cell popped and disappeared. “Do you mind putting a shirt on? It’s hard to have a serious conversation with you when you’re naked.”
“Naked?” His perfect white teeth flashed and he powered up off the sofa. He took two strides toward her and halted when she put a hand out.
“Shirt. Please. We need to have an adult conversation.” Humiliating or not, she genuinely could not look at him right now and remember the gravity of the situation.
He was just too damn tempting. Now she knew the silkiness of his skin under her hands. The clean masculine scent and the slightly salty taste of him. Dangerous. A shiver shot down her spine and her pulse quickened.
He laughed and grabbed a t-shirt off the back of the armchair next to him. “Come on Sam, are you saying you can’t control yourself around me?” He took another step toward her.
“Shirt. On. Now.” At least she hadn’t yelled the words.
Focus. Why was she here again? Wasn’t she angry? Determined? Hell, his sheer physical presence made her forget anything but the feel of him. She shook her head.
The movie.
The paparazzi.
Disaster.
He pulled the white t-shirt over his head and now she wanted him to peel it off again. Damn him. Before she could react, he swooped in and wrapped his arms around her and captured her lips. When she kept her mouth firmly closed to him, he nibbled and coaxed until her lips parted on a groan and she sank into his delicious kiss. Sensation took over and she savored the minty flavor of his warm breath and the sheer heaven of his rock hard body against hers.
When his hands slid underneath her shirt and stroked up her overheated skin, she tore herself away from him and stumbled back a few steps.
“Stop. We need to talk.” And obviously speech wasn’t possible when he touched her. Or was in her line of vision for that matter. Her brain dissolved into a puddle, just like every other part of her body.
“Play now, talk later?” His grin was mischievous.
“No.” She forced her smile off her face. They had to be serious and she needed some answers.
“You’re tough. Fine. I’ll sit on this side of the sofa and you sit in the chair. Is that safe enough for you or should we build some kind of barrier so you don’t pounce on me?” He exhaled, plopped down and crossed his arms, the g
olden hair glinting on his sinewy forearms.
“I’ll do my best to restrain myself. You are such a smartass. Just stay on your side.” Maybe then she’d have a chance of remaining on track with her decision.
He scooted one inch closer to her. “Is this still my side?”
She snorted. Damn him. He made it impossible to remain angry and she was angry, wasn’t she? Why couldn’t she remember why she came here in the first place?
Focus, girl. “We need to talk.” Nobody had ever thrown her off the way he could, simply by being.
Holt frowned. “I told you everything I saw. Everything I could think of. Until we hear from Harry, I don’t know if there’s anything else to discuss about the trespassing scumbag.”
“Well, things have changed now. My dad hasn’t decided yet, but it’s possible he’s going to call it quits on the film. You guys will have to leave. Harry is just going to have to deal with it.” Everything had changed.
“Seriously? Look, Harry can put the nix on any story. And even if a photo or two of the actors surface, there’s nothing we can do about it now. We can up security, make some changes, but it doesn’t make sense to stop filming now.” Holt squared his shoulders and shifted back toward the other end of the couch.
“Look, why do you care so much? I understand it’s your job and you invested in the movie. But you’ll still get to make your movie. It might just get delayed until you find another ranch to shoot on. That’s business. This is impacting our entire life. Jeopardizing our privacy and our home. Can’t you understand that?” Her belly twisted.
“I understand that Sam. It’s not that simple though. I think you’re over-reacting. It was one photographer, Harry will handle it, and everything is going to be fine.” He crossed his arms and his mouth thinned.