“You think so?”
“Sounds boring as hell, but I’m looking forward to meeting Jim Bailey. The guy is on fire. Everyone is chasing him. See if they can shoot me over a script before they arrive. I’d like to at least flip through the pages. You know I hate going into these meetings cold.”
“I know that,” he tittered, “and it’s already done. It should be here any minute!”
“Sorry I doubted you,” she smiled. “Get me some coffee, please, then get me Martin Malley at Fox, and see if you can track down Jack Mulgrew.”
“As in Mulgrew Realty?”
“That’s the one. I’m selling my house.”
“You’re selling your house? Knock me down and kiss me silly. I never thought I’d see the day. Damn, I wish I could buy it.”
“If wishes were… what’s that saying? Never mind, just get to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t forget the locksmith,” she called after him.
“Of course not!”
“Who calls a script One Autumn Day,” she muttered as she began to scan the document she’d opened. “Jim Bailey though. Sure would love to nail his ass to this company for his first big feature. Yes, sirree.”
* * *
While Amanda was firing instructions at her assistant, Braxton was still fighting the morning rush hour traffic on his way back to Sunset Plaza Drive, but he’d spent the time productively. He’d decided on a realtor for his house. Her name was Candy Sparling. She was relatively young, but she was smart and hungry, and when she’d attended a dinner party at his home she’d ooh’d and aah’d at every turn. Her praise had been sincere, and her date had told him privately that she was nuts about contemporary architecture.
After a lengthy conversation she’d agreed to meet with him that afternoon and give him a comparative market analysis and her opinion of an appropriate sales price. While talking to her, a call had come in from Peter Steinberg and Braxton had let it go to voicemail. As he ended the call with Candy and searched out the agent’s name on his phone, he felt a rush of adrenalin. He had a great deal of faith in One Autumn Day, and if they could land a deal with a decent production company he was convinced it would be well-received, but he’d been in the business long enough to know the one thing that might get in the way was his determination to play the lead. That could be a helluva sticking point.
“If Sylvester Stallone pulled it off with Rocky, I can do the same thing,” he’d told Peter during their early conversations.
Peter had been in the business for many years, and he’d stared back at Braxton and nodded his head thoughtfully.
“You just might be able to pull it off,” he’d said solemnly. “You’ve got a commercial look and some decent credits under your belt. It won’t be easy, but we might be able to make it happen.”
The conversation had replayed itself many times in Braxton’s head, and as he touched the phone screen and listened to the call go through, he was more determined than ever to stick to his guns.
“I’m not giving up that part,” he grunted. “I won’t. I didn’t put in all that effort to write the damn thing to just hand it over to someone else.”
“Peter Steinberg’s office,” announced a soft female voice, interrupting his thoughts.
“It’s Braxton Carter calling for Peter.”
“Hi, Mr. Carter. One moment, please.”
The girl’s voice had sounded young and nervous, and he immediately thought about Amanda. She was cool, confident, and self-assured, a woman who was comfortable in her skin and who could drop a man at fifty paces with just a look. That he’d had her wriggling and squealing over his knee, then moaning and sighing as he’d made love to her, sent a wave of energy to his loins. Everything about her had been a tantalizing turn-on.
“Braxton?”
“Hey, Peter,” Braxton replied, snapping himself back to the present. “Do you have news?”
“I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I’ve lined up several meetings over the next few days. Just exploratory, you know how it goes.”
“Shouldn’t I be there?”
“That’s why I’m calling,” Peter interrupted. “I think we need to be canny about this. Let’s get some buzz going, and when we get some serious interest we can bring you in and let people know you’re the actor who’s attached.”
“Won’t that piss people off? I mean, shouldn’t they know upfront?”
“I’m going to tell them any deal will be contingent on a certain actor playing the role, but I’m not going to tell them who that is just yet. If they love the script, and love Jim, then we’ll bring you in. You’re not famous, but you’re not a total unknown either, and you’re so perfect for the role I’m hoping you might even come to mind as the script is being read. It’s all a big chess game, you know that.”
“You’ve been in this business longer than I have,” Braxton remarked, “so I’ll trust your instincts. Just keep me posted!”
“Thanks. We have two meetings this afternoon. I’ll get back to you tonight.”
Ending the call, Braxton zipped around some cars and found some clear road. The morning drive had been a pain, but Amanda had been worth every minute of it.
“I can’t wait to move to a calmer area,” he mumbled as the traffic started back up again. “I’m so over this.”
As he turned off Sunset Blvd. and headed up the hill, he thought about seeing her again that night, but he decided to give her some space to come to terms with what was happening, and she would undoubtedly need a good night’s sleep. When he called her later he’d make plans for the following evening, and as he thought about it further, he recalled her words in the kitchen. I love it when you call me little girl.
“Being successful and responsible is all well and good, Amanda Anderson, but I’ll bet you’ve been independent and in control way too long. I know just what you need,” and with a thoughtful smile he accelerated around the turn and pulled into his garage.
Chapter Ten
Amanda was excited. She was more than excited. When the One Autumn Day script had arrived she’d scanned the first few pages and been shocked by how good they were. The dialogue was edgy, dark, and funny, and she’d canceled her lunch date so she could read through as much as possible in the hour that she had.
She’d negotiated deals with Peter Steinberg before. He was a shark. She’d have to play down her enthusiasm or he’d smell blood, but after just a few minutes with Jim Bailey, she’d been hard-pressed to conceal her eagerness. Initially the young director been reserved and awkward, displaying none of the effusive ego so common in the business, but then she’d asked him how he envisioned filming a particularly suspenseful scene. It involved the heroine being pursued by a serial killer, running down a perilous track on the side of a cliff. The young director’s personality suddenly changed. Gesticulating passionately, he unexpectedly jumped to his feet as he described how he would set up the helicopter shot and use GoPro cameras during a particularly hair-raising moment.
“It will have a Hitchcock feel,” he said dramatically as he sat back into his chair. “That man was a total genius.”
The meeting had come to an end, and she told them she would finish reading the script that night and get back to them. What she’d really wanted to do was draw up a deal memo and have them sign it on the spot. The script had grabbed her, Jim Bailey’s creative vision had captivated her, and after closing the door behind the astute agent and extraordinary young director, she took a long, deep breath. She wanted One Autumn Day, she wanted Jim Bailey, and she absolutely wanted Braxton to play the lead.
“How the hell am I going to pull this off,” she mumbled. “Every frickin’ production company in town will be after this and I’ll bet the actor who’s attached will be a royal pain. Can’t blame him. It’s a helluva role, but it’s tailor-made for Braxton. Shit. I have to find out who it is.”
Over the years Amanda had made contacts in all the right places, and she was just about to start making calls wh
en her cellphone rang. Picking it up, she saw it was Braxton. Her heart skipped and her belly flipped, and thrilled to hear from him, she answered the call.
“Hi. Perfect timing.”
“That’s good to hear. I thought I’d be leaving you a voicemail.”
“I just finished a meeting. A great one, actually. How are you? How’s your day going?”
“Really well, thanks. I’m going to list my house today.”
“You’re kidding! I’m going to be talking to someone as well, but probably not until tomorrow. Today I’m jammed.”
“I won’t keep you,” Braxton said, knowing she was probably about to leave for yet another pow-wow in a conference room somewhere. “I just wanted to say hello and let you know I was thinking about you.”
“I’m thinking about you too,” she purred, sinking into her chair.
“Sitting comfortably yet?”
“I can’t believe you just asked me that,” she retorted, feeling a hot blush cross her face.
“It’s just a simple question,” he said with a grin in his voice. “What’s the answer?”
“Um, sort of, but not quite,” she murmured.
“I think you should catch up on your sleep tonight, but if you’re free tomorrow—”
“I would love to,” she said, cutting him off.
“Do you have to get off the phone right now?”
“I have a minute, why?”
“I want you tell you what I have in mind,” he said, lowering his voice.
“Braxton,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “You know I won’t be able to think about anything else all day.”
“You want to feel like a little girl again? That’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to totally take care of you. I ‘m going to bathe you, feed you, spank you if you act up, put you to bed…”
“Ooh, Braxton, that sounds heavenly,” she breathed. “And, uh…”
“And what?”
“Something happened once, when I was very young,” she said quietly, then felt the blood rush to her face, shocked that she was about to admit something she’d never told anyone.
“Do you want to tell me what is was now, or wait until later?”
“I don’t think I can tell you at all,” she muttered. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“I can’t give you what you want if I don’t know what it is.”
“I want to tell you, I really do.”
“Why don’t you email it to me? [email protected].”
“Yikes. If I do that I may never be able to look at you again.”
“No worries. I can blindfold you.”
“Ooh, a blindfold. I’ve always wanted to be blindfolded.”
“I’ll make sure to have one handy,” he promised, “but you have to send me that email. That’s an order, little girl. I’ll be waiting for it.”
“You make my stomach do flips,” she moaned. “No one has ever made my stomach do flips.”
“I love that I make your stomach do flips,” he said softly. “You do things to me too, you know.”
A loud chime suddenly echoed through Braxton’s house. It was Candy Sparling, and he was about to tell Amanda he had to go when she beat him to it.
“I guess that was your doorbell,” she said, wishing he didn’t have to get off the phone, “but you have made my day. Thank you, Braxton.”
“You’re welcome. Send me the email, pronto. Did you write down my email address? [email protected].”
“I’m writing it now,” she said, grabbing a pen. “Okay, I’ve got it, and I will as soon as I get a chance.”
“Bye, Amanda.”
“Bye, Braxton.”
Ending the call, she leaned back in her chair and swung around to stare out her window. Her heart was racing. Could she reveal a secret she’d carried around her entire life? Was it as bad as she thought it was? She’d almost visited a therapist to talk about it but had chickened out at the last minute. Braxton’s promise to treat her like a little girl all evening was uncanny. It was almost as if he knew about the cloud that hung over her.
“So?”
Spinning around, she saw Jeremy walking toward her.
“So what?” she asked.
“The meeting. One Autumn Day. Jim Bailey. What did you think?”
“I want it. I want it badly, but they’re going to get a shitload of offers.”
“Sounds like we’re going into battle.”
“Like I said, they’re going to get a shitload of offers.”
“That’s never stopped you before, and it won’t stop you now,” Jeremy said confidently.
“Have you ever heard of this guy, Carrera Baton? What kind of a name is that? French? German?”
“I’ve never heard of him, and I have no idea which exotic country he’s from, but something tells me he’s cute. You know, like the car. Speedy, sexy, slick.”
“Jeremy, get your head out of wherever it is and get your spies working. I need to know who else Peter is meeting with, and I need to know the name of the actor who’s attached.”
“An actor is attached. Oh, dear.”
“Yes, oh, dear. You do have a way with words sometimes, Jeremy. See what you can dig up. Maybe you can find another script by this Carrera character. It can’t be his first. It’s too good.”
“Consider it done. You’ve got ten minutes before you’re due in the conference room. You want some coffee, tea, a candy bar?”
“Tea. Get me some tea. I have an important email I have to write so try not to disturb me unless it’s urgent, and call Matthews Mercedes. Find out what’s happening with my car.”
“Okely dokely.”
She watched him waltz out of her office, then turning her attention to her computer, she opened up her personal email account and began to type.
* * *
Braxton had played daddy a few times, and as he walked through the house to answer the door, ideas began formulating in his head. There were no hard and fast rules to age-play, and it was up to him to intuit Amanda’s needs. She’d jumped on the idea without hesitation, and he wondered how long it had been since the accomplished, take-charge woman had been able to lean on someone and be completely nurtured and cared for.
Shifting his focus to the realtor waiting for him, he opened the door, and standing on the porch, Candy flashed him a wide smile with freshly glossed lips.
“I’m so honored to be representing this house,” she beamed as she walked inside. “Thank you for giving me the listing. The houses in this area are flying off the shelves, and this place is awesome. The view alone is a million dollars, and that infinity pool… it will wow everyone who walks in here. You won’t have any trouble moving this place. You’ll have multiple offers in the first week.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but how can you be so sure?”
“Like I said, this area is on fire right now. Believe me, you’ll have a dozen showings in the first few days, and the offers will flow. I’ve already lined up my photographer for tomorrow. I hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah, sure, fine,” he nodded. “You’ve seen most of it, but let me give you a tour of the rest.”
As he led her from room to room, she made comments about how she’d like to ‘edit’ certain things, moving a chair to a different spot, removing some of his personal items, and though he was doing his best to pay attention, his mind kept wandering back to Amanda. Just the thought of another night with her was sending heat through his loins, making it difficult to focus on the bubbly young realtor and everything she was telling him.
“Do whatever you need to do. I really don’t mind, not a bit,” he said as they walked back through the wide passageway.
“What’s through here?” she asked, trying the handle of the door that led down to his decadent dungeon.
“It’s a bonus room. I have some furniture stored down there. You can’t show that part of the house yet, but I’ll get it moved out as quickly as I can.”
“Can I take a look so I can give
people a general idea of what it’s like?”
“Not yet. It’s totally cluttered, but soon.”
She was staring up at him with a twinkle in her eye. He knew the look. It was the we’re here alone, why don’t we have some fun look, and as she reached up and touched his arm he had to smile. It was all so predictable.
“Not even a teensy weensy peek?” she murmured, sending him a gaze filled with promise. “Not even for me, your dedicated, conscientious realtor?”
“Nope,” he grinned.
He saw the disappointment cross her face. He knew it was more about his rejection of her subtle come-on than being denied access to his basement, and he realized that not long ago he would have opened the door, led her down the stairs, and watched her reaction. At that point anything could have happened, but he wasn’t that guy anymore and it wasn’t just because of Amanda. The change had been happening slowly. Amanda had just brought it into focus. It felt good, and as he turned and headed back to the living room he smiled a secret smile.
“I have all the paperwork with me,” she announced as she followed him.
“Excellent. Would you like some coffee or tea while we go over it?”
“Make it coffee. I want to see you work that built-in coffeemaker.”
“I’ll be happy to show you,” he said as they walked into the kitchen. “Just so you know, I’m selling this place because I want to, not because I have to, so I’m not interested in any lowball offers. I’m putting it on the market because I want to move to a quieter area. I was thinking about maybe Brentwood, or Pacific Palisades.”
“Do you want a contemporary like this?”
“No, that’s the other thing. I want something traditional, maybe a Cape Cod style, even Tudor. I want something that has more of a homey feeling.”
“I may know of something,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s not on the market yet. It’s a Cape Cod with great ocean views. Quiet street, not far from the shopping village. Four bedrooms though. Is that too big?”
“No, I need a room for an office, and a guest room. An extra room is always good. Does it have a basement?”
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