Something Better

by Gail R Delaney

  David nodded and took a step toward her. "But, you're not too stupid to love. Because you're not going to let me assume anything."

  "Right," she said with a decisive nod, laying her hand against her chest. "And I'm not going to assume anything, either. I'm going to actually ask you what I need to know and that way there won't be any confusion. And I don't have to sit around wondering what's really going on, or try to convince myself that you're thinking one thing but you're not."

  He grinned at the way she could go on for three sentences without seeming to take a breath, and wondered if her thoughts always moved that quickly. If so, he was going to have to get some of those brainpower video games just to train his brain to keep up. He tested the waters by taking another small step toward her. She didn't move away, just tilted her chin up so she still looked at him.

  "What do you think I'm thinking, Andi?"

  She shook her head, tiny frown lines appearing between her eyes. "I don't know. That's what I need to find out. Maybe you're not thinking. Maybe you haven't thought about this enough. Because if you had been thinking, then you'd realize..." Her voice trailed off, and she drew in a deep, sharp breath that shuddered as she released it.

  "That's a lot of thinking."

  She nodded, her eyes shifting back and forth in tiny degrees as she looked up at him. "It's driving me crazy."

  You're driving me crazy. He smiled at the random thought and took the last step needed to bring them as close as possible without touching. David kept one hand at his side, not wanting to make her shy off again by touching her the way he wanted to, or too soon. The other hand he set on the counter edge near hers, and watching her face for any reaction, he curled a single finger over hers. She didn't pull away.

  "What would I realize?" he asked, keeping his voice low and just between them. Behind him, a car chase screeched and crashed on the television.

  "What?" she asked this time. After all that talking, she was the one who lost track of the conversation.

  David smiled again, something he found himself doing often when Andrea Parker was anywhere near him. "You said that if I just thought about things, I'd realize... I want to know what it is I'd realize."

  "Oh."

  The word slipped from her lips at the same moment she must have realized how close he stood, because she looked away, the single finger he held slipped from beneath hers so she could cross her arms, and she took a step back. She couldn't go far before hitting a small partition that divided the kitchenette area from the other half of the trailer that housed only a small bedroom and even smaller bathroom.

  David stayed put, curling his fingers into his palms. She hadn't moved far, but it was far enough to frustrate him. For all the women that he'd dated, and the few he'd had long-term relationships with, he'd never felt the need to touch them like he did with Andi. He couldn't help it. If she was within reach, he wanted his hands on her. It made his hands itch not to reach for her now.

  "I'm a divorced single mother with an ass of an ex husband," she finally said, the words practically running together she said them so fast. "I'm older than you."

  "By, what? A couple years?" he managed to slide in.

  "I'm just a... a... novelist," she continued, not missing a beat. "I listen to voices in my head. I don't fit here, I don't--" Andi shook her head. "I'm just--"

  David couldn't take it anymore, and stopped her with a kiss. He laid his hands against her cheeks and held her still, pressing his lips to hers until she released her breath through her nostrils and it skimmed across his cheeks as the tension eased from her body. Then he lifted his mouth away only far enough and long enough to cover her parted lips again with an open-mouth kiss.

  She leaned into him, and the small purring sound that vibrated in her throat shot a bolt of arousal through him. When her tongue met his first, and her delicate hands settled at his waist, just her fingertips slipping beneath his shirt to touch his skin, all pre-conception that he would keep this kiss simple was gone. He groaned, not caring that the sound echoed in the small kitchen alcove, and wrapped one arm around her to haul her against him. He pushed his fingers into her short curls, cupping the back of her head in his hand. The kiss took on a fevered pitch, and he couldn't hold her close enough, couldn't kiss her keep or long enough, couldn't touch enough of Andi to satisfy him.

  Her soft gasp snapped him back to reality, and he stopped short, realizing with almost dread that he'd turned them so her back was to the hallway wall leading to the bedroom, and he pressed her there, trapping her with his body. He eased away enough to let her take a breath, and set his forearms on the wall on either side of her head, still bracketing her to keep her close. David rested his forehead against hers, their heavy pants mingling hot breath between them.

  Andi raised a trembling hand to touch his cheek and he turned his mouth into it, kissing her palm as he held it against his lips. Her lips were slick from their kiss, and her pale cheeks were pink from his unshaved whiskers.

  "I wasn't going to kiss you," he said between deep breaths, "until we had a real date." She smiled, her eyes focusing on his mouth as he spoke, and he liked the spike of heat that look shot through him. "I think we need to be in public."

  The lines between her eyes appeared again and she frowned slightly. David kissed her forehead, holding his lips there until he felt the furrows ease. "Why?" she asked.

  "You ask that question a lot," he said against her skin. "Why do we need to be in public?" She nodded against his lips. David shifted his weight so he could look into her eyes as he pressed his hips slightly against her. Her eyes fluttered closed. "Do you need to ask why?"

  She raised her chin, looking him straight in the eyes as she took a deep breath. "You really want this? You want to be seen in public with me, where people will take pictures and assume things and write stories and--"

  He laid his thumb against her lips, not trusting himself to stop her again with a kiss. Her kisses were gasoline on fire for him. "You're amazing, and I want to know just how amazing. And you're ten kinds of sexy," he said, dropping his voice so low it made her smile; a smile that lit up her face and made her eyes shine, a smile that instantly made him do the same. "I think the better question is why wouldn't I want to be with you."

  She stared at him for several moments, her eyes shifting again back and forth in tiny movements, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. What she was working out in her mind that went twice as fast as anyone he'd ever known. Finally, she let out a long breath -- something she seemed to do when she'd made a decision -- and nodded her head.

  "Okay."

  He grinned. "Okay. Okay what?"

  "Okay, I'll have dinner with you. But I can't until Thursday night."

  "Thursday night. I can wait two days... I think."

  He'd be taking a lot of cold showers in the next two days.

  Chapter Four

  Andi woke the next morning with the sun spread across her bed, warming her all the way through. She smiled and stretched like a cat, humming as each muscle tingled then relaxed. Through her open shades, the mountains behind the house stretched out to touch the perfectly blue sky, and not a single cloud broke up the blue.

  She'd been up until nearly 2 a.m. finishing chapter twelve of her current novel, but the words had come fast and furious and the scene had unfolded so clearly and easily she had drank an entire pot of coffee to keep up with her muse. For weeks she'd struggled with the last two or three chapters. As the love between her characters unfolded, she'd felt the scenes were stiff and forced. None of the zing or chemistry she'd felt when writing her other books seemed to be happening for these two. But, then when she sat down after returning from the studio, she'd figured out what was missing. Once she started, she couldn't stop.

  Andi knew she could attempt to delude herself with the idea that she was just that good of a writer, but she knew better.

  It was because of David.

  When he asked her to have dinner with him, her first gut reactio
n was to say no. Every argument she'd convinced herself of since that first kiss ran through her mind, and with a virtual slap upside the head, she realized that she was no better than every annoying, whiney TSTL romance novel heroine she'd ever read about -- and tried to avoid writing. She was assuming things... doubting things... without just doing the one thing every reader screamed at their books when they read women like this... "Just ASK him, for cryin' out loud!"

  And hey-howdy-boy, was she glad she did. The man knew how to use his lips. Andi sighed and settled into the warm bed again.

  Then she bolted upright, flipping to her knees to crawl across the bed to the side table where her glasses sat beside the alarm clock. She squinted at the time, trying to make it up before actually putting the glasses on, and groaned. With the glasses on, she groaned again.

  How did she sleep until ten?

  "Crap," she growled, practically tumbling to the floor in her attempt to free herself of the twisted blankets. She was halfway to the bathroom still kicking her foot free of the sheet, pulling her pajama top off over her head.

  Shooting was scheduled to begin at eight that morning, and she'd wanted to be there before cameras rolled -- just so she could lay her eyes on the script again. Andi may have thrown a fit, and Maggie may have 'worked her magic', but that didn't mean that the script doctors wouldn't try to change things again last minute. Even if it were a simple change, something they thought meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, but that would mean everything to her.

  Andi threw the water on in the shower as she finished stripping, and stepped under the spray before she adjusted the temperature, gasping loudly as the too-cold water hit her back. She washed her hair in record time, skipping the '2 to 3 minutes' instruction on the conditioner as she practically rubbed in and rinsed simultaneously, and was pulling one of her many sundresses over her head by twenty past ten. By ten-twenty-five she'd fluffed her hair as dry as it would go and pushed it off her forehead with a headband, managing only a dusting of mineral powder on her face. She ran down the stairs with her sandals in her hands, waved quickly to Jake as he played video games with a shouted promise that she'd be home by lunch, and hopped on one foot to get the shoes on before hitting the front door.

  Then she came to a dead stop on the 101 thirty minutes later.

  By the time she pulled up to the studio security gate, she had a headache and was ready to eat off her left arm. But, she was considerably calmer and resigned to the fact that if they had filmed the scene wrong -- short of throwing a hissy fit in the middle of the soundstage -- there was nothing she could do about it. She hadn't ruled the hissy fit out, but she decided to keep it reserve until she knew.

  Today, when she parked her hybrid she kept it to one space and in a straight line, and left it calmly. She checked the time, and knew she'd have to call Jake soon since there was no way she'd make it home by noon. Even with lightning speed, she wasn't getting back to the valley in fifteen minutes. Stupid traffic. Since when was there heavy traffic at eleven in the morning?

  The interior of the studio was fairly quiet, which either meant they were filming or they'd broken for lunch.

  She took a right past the 'hospital' stage, heading to the back of the studio where the alien ship stages had been built. They were more formidable and permanent structures than some of the other stages, and the schedule had some of the torture scenes shot today. Just the thought of seeing those particular images live and in full, human color made her stomach twist. It had been bad enough writing the scenes with them playing in her mind. She wasn't sure she could even watch when the film was done.

  Andi reached the alien ship, and except for a handful of set guys moving a few things around, it was quiet. Lunch. In the same moment she was again annoyed with herself for sleeping too late, she was relieved that she hadn't had to watch any of the filming.

  She stepped over some cables and crouched down to pick up a rolled and creased copy of several script pages from the floor. That someone left the script laying around surprised her. Benton guarded copies of the script like a mama bear with her cubs. After David signed on for the film production, a lot of buzz had stirred up interest in the screenplay and sales of the book had skyrocketed. Andi's royalties hadn't been anything to sneeze at before, but after the announcement of the main cast, Maggie had taken great pleasure in telling her how sales had increased. With the media rush, copies of the daily scripts were like chunks of gold.

  So to have one left behind made the back of her neck tingle.

  Andi unfurled the curled paper and scanned the stage directions and lines. She read all the way through page six before some of the tension in her shoulders eased. The script -- at least this copy -- was the right script. The right scene -- not the sexed up, gratuitous scene the script doctors thought would 'sell' better.

  She released a long breath, letting the tightness go along with the knot in her stomach she'd had since yesterday morning. Even though Benton had promised, and Maggie had assured, she didn't believe it until she saw the proof.

  Andi rolled the script again and tucked it in her purse with the intent of giving it to Benton on her way out. "Hey, Jimmy," she called to one of the familiar faces working on the set. He was mopping at the concrete floor around the 'chair' that would have held Jason while he was tortured.

  He looked up, hearing her over the buds in his ears and smiled, pulling the buds free as he leaned on the mop handle. "Hey, Ms. Parker. I didn't see you. Sorry," he said with just the slightest of Puerto Rican accents. He grinned wide, his white teeth a sharp contrast against his black moustache.

  "It's okay. Do you know where Benton is?"

  "Probably still at the first aid center."

  "First aid center?" Her attention dropped to the floor as Jimmy lifted his mop into the yellow bucket tucked behind the chair. The cotton strands had a slight pink hue, and she noticed then that Jimmy wore latex gloves... a common practice when dealing with... blood?

  "Is Benton hurt?" Andi stepped over more cables and wires to move closer to Jimmy, but stopped short where the darker cement told her the floor was wet. "What happened?"

  "Nah, not Benton. It was Mr. Bishop," he said with a jerk of his chin toward the chair. "They took him to first aid about forty minutes ago, or so."

  "What happened?" she asked again, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she had to press her hand to her breastbone. "Jimmy, what happened?"

  "I didn't see, just got sent to clean it up. But Eddie told me it was real nasty."

  "Oh, god..." she whispered, covering her mouth. "Is he still at first aid?"

  Jimmy shrugged. "Dunno."

  Before he finished answering, Andi spun around and nearly tripped over the pile of cables in her rush. The thumb of her sandals echoed through the sound stage as she ran for the door. The first aid office was on the other side of the lot, too close to drive but a good run. By the time she reached the wooden steps leading into the small trailer that served as first aid, she was out of breath. She stumbled inside, the cool air-conditioned air hitting her in the face.

  "Are you hurt, ma'am?" a young man dressed in the recognizable light blue shirt of the medical staff asked as he rose from his chair behind a metal desk just inside the door.

  "I'm looking for David Bishop," she huffed, quickly regaining her breath in the cooler air. "I was told he was brought here."

  "Your name, ma'am?"

  "Andi Parker."

  The man's eyebrows rose and he grinned. "Of course," he said, nodding his head. "Yes, ma'am. He's in the back."

  "How badly is he hurt?" She knew it couldn't be too awful, or they would have taken him to the nearest hospital. Especially since David was the lead. They'd take no chances if there were any risk.

  "He'll be fine, ma'am," he said, taking an almost military stance with his hands tucked behind his back. He smiled, a lopsided grin that made him look even younger. He smiled wider. "Just through those doors, ma'am. He's in the last room on your left. Mr. Benton
is there with him."

  The hallway was quiet, and Andi spared a quick glance at the young man before she continued. He smiled and raised a hand in an abbreviated wave before sitting down again. Andi pressed her lips together and reached the last door. She leaned toward it for a few seconds, listening to whatever sound might be coming from inside. When she heard nothing, she slowly turned the knob and eased the door open.

  First she saw Benton, slouched down in one of the plastic and metal chairs provided in every medical center she'd ever been in with his forehead supported in his hand. His eyes were closed and his face shaded by his ever-present baseball cap with his too-long hair curling out from the rim. As she pushed the door open, he looked up. When he saw her, he sat up and held his finger to his lips.

  Andi nodded, pushing the door further open until she saw the narrow bed squeezed into the small room, and David's prone form. The bed was too short so his feet hung off the bottom, but his head was inclined slightly and his face was hidden by an ice pack covering his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His shirt was dirty and torn, and dark spots of blood covered the front. Andi winced and tried to console herself with the idea that not all the blood was his. After all, they'd been filming a torture scene so for the sake of make-up, he would have had fake blood applied to his clothes and his face.

  His hands rested loosely in his lap, and each breath rasped through him liked a muffled snore, probably from the swelling that the ice pack attempted to decrease.

  "Is he all right?" she mouthed, barely whispering.

  Benton eased from his chair, wincing when the plastic squeaked beneath his movement, and stepped lightly to the door. He motioned her into the hall, and she followed, but left the door open so she could see David.

  "He'll be fine. Nothing serious," Benton whispered, taking his cap off to run fingers through his flattened hair. "It was a stupid accident."