Wild at Heart (Walk on the Wild Side #1)

by Lara Archer

  My God, I’m stupid. An absolute, first-class idiot.

  She should have read the signs when Nick ignored her all yesterday evening after they came back down from the mountain. Normally, he’d have been out checking his equipment, charging batteries, planning camera set-ups, getting a feel for the local light, asking a million questions about how Amber wanted to handle different scenes.

  Clearly, he’d been avoiding her. He wasn’t into talking after sex, apparently. No messy break-up conversations for Nick Turner. He just moved on to the next available warm body.

  Or…no, it was worse than that. He would have been perfectly happy to have her get in on something kinky with him and the next available warm body. “Don’t go, kiddo,” he’d said. “You should stay.” Oh, dear freakin’ God. The more the merrier, apparently. He’d probably have invited the sound-check girl too, if she’d shown up.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d known this about him. Well, not the penchant for threesomes. But the love ‘em and leave ‘em thing, the different girl in his bed every week thing. Somehow—and this was the really, really, stunningly stupid part—she’d thought, with her, maybe he’d be different. Because Nick actually knew her, and cared about her as a human being.

  Her stomach twisted sickeningly.

  Now they probably weren’t even friends anymore.

  And they were stuck for three weeks in a national park, miles and miles and miles from civilization, and they had to make a film together.

  She wanted to stayed curled up in a ball on her bunk the whole time and cry. She’d already skipped checking out the swimming hole the forest rangers told her about, the one that needed to be just perfect, perfect, perfect for the big crisis break-up scene. Amber always did her own scouting, but not today—she’d sent Onyx, her Assistant Director, up to scout the site instead. And Onyx was an urban girl who got freaked out by city parks, who’d practically hyperventilated when she learned there was no cell phone reception at Wild Mountain. By now, Onyx had probably gotten herself eaten by a coyote, and they’d wind up filming the scene back behind the Ranger Station latrines.

  Judging by all the clattering and banging and shouting coming from outside, the tech crew truck had arrived with the cranes and dollies and lighting equipment, more elaborate stuff than any Amber Waves production had ever used, and she really needed to go out and be sure it was all in working order. A professional make-up artist was on her way too, and an on-location colorist so Amber could see the look of the final product more clearly while they were still actually filming.

  Damn it. Curling up in a ball just wasn’t an option.

  She had a movie to make. The most ambitious movie of her career. A movie she owed to the 41,457 people who’d funded her Kickstarter campaign, whose money she couldn’t even return since she’d already spent every cent on the crew and equipment and two stunning new ARRI Alexa cameras that Nick had spent the last four months slavering over. She’d maxed out all her credit cards, to boot. And taken out two big bank loans, both riding on the fact that she had money-generating stars as headliners. This film was make or break for her.

  Nick might be slime, but he was not going to break her.

  She sat up in bed, swung her legs over the side, got her feet on the floor. There, progress. She was tough, she was strong. She was going to win a flipping Oscar—for herself. Best Fucking Director, Best Fucking Picture. And Nick Turner could just...go fuck himself. Or whoever else he could find to fuck.

  She stood up. Went to the little cabin sink and splashed cold water on her face.

  Took a deep breath and stepped out the door into the sunlight.

  The clearing by the Ranger Station was a swarm of activity—black-t-shirted guys moving large metal crates around. A catering truck from Sunshine Raw Organics, which was one of Ruby Torres’ diva demands, so she could stay on her crazy Paleo diet, though thank God Ruby was paying for it herself. Oh, and two guys in dark sunglasses and suit jackets, with ear-pieces and wires disappearing down under their collars—Ruby’s private security detail, who went everywhere she did. Except while she was having sex with Nick Turner, apparently.

  Amber couldn’t resist just one little glance over to Nick’s cabin. The door was still closed tight. No doubt Nick was still in bed with their leading lady, treating her like a human blow-up doll.

  And Ruby Torres was probably smart enough not to expect anything more from Nick than that.

  Thankfully, Amber’s thoughts were cut short by the grinding sound of tires on the gravel road. An ancient, beat-up blue Volkswagen came rumbling down to park between Ruby Torres’ limo and the Head Ranger’s jeep.

  Jake Hultensaalt was here.

  Okay. Amber’s head was pounding and her heart felt like it was stuffed with lead shot, but she had to plaster a smile on her face like she had everything 100% under control. Jake was sacrificing mega-bucks to make this tiny little film with her, and she didn’t want him to regret it the moment he arrived.

  At least he wasn’t the diva type. Far from it. One of the biggest names in Hollywood, a man paid millions per film, able to afford a fleet of Maseratis if he wanted—and he famously drove a Bug that had belonged to his dad in San Francisco in the 1960s. And carried a toolbox with him so he could do his own repairs.

  The engine no sooner wheezed to a halt than Jake threw open the door and leapt out, six-feet-plus of world-famous muscle packed into a faded pair of Levi’s and a tight white t-shirt. Thick mane of chestnut hair, chiseled cheekbones, perfect razor stubble, a mega-watt smile. And those shoulders—Jesus. No wonder he brought in such big money at the box office.

  The man was sex on wheels.

  He whisked off his sunglasses, his trademark laser-beam blue eyes hit her full force, and before she knew what was happening, he ran straight up to her and lifted her in a bear hug. A bear hug that made her realize you really could feel the individual ridges of a six-pack even through two layers of shirt fabric, if a guy was as superhumanly toned as Jake Hultensaalt.

  Holy sweet abdominals, Batman.

  Teenage girls around the world—hell, middle-aged women and white-haired grandmas around the world—would give their eyeteeth to get this close to this man. Maybe she ought to take a cue from Nick and have herself her own little affair with one of their Hollywood stars.

  “Amber Wakeling!” said Jake in his famously deep voice with its sexy hint of

  Southern drawl, as he set her back on her feet. “You have no idea how pumped I am to actually be working with you!” His smile was nearly blinding.

  Ah, yes—his famous balls-to-the-wall, all-in enthusiasm.

  “Me, too,” she said stupidly, then added, just as stupidly, “To be working with you.”

  And really, truly, she was. All that enthusiasm and charm and chiseled muscle came packaged with serious acting talent—the kind of whole-hearted, naturalistic, emotionally naked style that her films demanded. She thanked heaven once more for getting him to agree to work with her.

  “Seriously,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and staring deep into her eyes. “I felt a little shy about telling you when we had that lunch, but I basically worship your films. Nobody’s allowed to be friends with me until they watch Junkyard Baby at least twice. Fucking brilliant. That scene where they jump off the railroad bridge—that kills me every time.”

  Despite her awful mood, she felt a spark of pleasure go through her at that, even a little wave of giddiness. Jake Hultensaalt made his friends watch her first movie? Made them watch it twice? With him laser-beaming her so sincerely and with his hands on her shoulders, she wasn’t quite sure where to look, and stuck her hands in her jeans pockets like an awkward high school freshman. “Um, thanks. You’re—you’re brilliant, too.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” he insisted. “Other guys get drunk, they get into fistfights. I get drunk, I start acting out the coffee shop scene from Buckeye, doing all the parts. Even the angry nun and the barking dog.”

  She laughed.
“Really?”

  “Really. If I start doing it while I’m here and it bothers you, just punch me in the face a couple times, and I’ll stop. Probably. Unless I’m in the middle of Joey’s monologue, because then I’m in some metaphysical transcendent space and I forget I’m even connected to the real world.”

  “Oh. Wow.” She couldn’t put together anything more coherent to say than that. Between how terrific he smelled and the effusive praise for her work, her neurons weren’t firing properly at the moment. It felt good—a little bit of a balm to the wound of Nick’s rejection. But a couple more minutes of her staring at him with her jaw hanging open and he was going to decide her past films were a fluke and she was actually mentally incompetent.

  Or maybe every woman he talked to looked as gobsmacked as she did, and he didn’t realize anything was wrong with her.

  Apparently oblivious to her brain malfunction, Jake looked around at the woods and the mountains, drawing in a deep breath of the pristine air. “Wow,” he said, “this place is beautiful. This is going to be so amazing.” The laser-beam eyes swung back to her, and her heart skipped a beat. Was this guy actually human, or the product of some crazy genetic engineering experiment gone horribly right?

  “Wild Mountain National Park,” she said, as if he didn’t already know that.

  He smiled cheerfully, gave her shoulders one last squeeze, then let them go. “Is Ruby Torres here yet?” he asked, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Energy was practically crackling off of him. “How soon can we get started? I spent the last three months covered in CGI ping pong balls being a superhero lizard beast, and I want something real to do!”

  Clearly, working with Jake Hultensaalt was going to be fantastic—once she got her cognitive functions back under control.

  “Real,” she repeated. “We’re definitely going to get real.”

  Jake grinned with the brightness of a supernova.

  Amber sighed. Getting real with Jake Hultensaalt was going to be a pleasure. Unfortunately, “real” was also going to involve working with Nick Turner. But she was just going to have to handle that.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, Amber had Jake and Ruby up in the meadow, trying to take advantage of the gorgeous weather and perfect light to get the big love scene right.

  Getting her co-stars naked together right off the bat was a little tricky, but the next few days threatened to be overcast and possibly raining, so she couldn’t waste the chance to get a good take in the sun. Besides, a little shyness between her leads might capture the characters’ vulnerability in the scene as they took off their clothes and revealed their true selves to each other for the first time.

  She and Ruby had scarcely said a word to each other, and Ruby appeared to be as determined as she was to pretend Amber hadn’t seen Ruby sprawled out on Nick’s bed wearing nothing but a pair of false eyelashes and a throw pillow that hid nowhere near enough.

  For his part, Nick was bustling about in the meadow, looking very close to his usual self, rigging some reflective screens to send the sunlight just where he wanted it. Though this clearly wasn’t a normal shoot: on any day, he’d have been chatting with Amber, checking in with her, running ideas past her, working as a team. But today he wasn’t talking except for the absolute bare minimum, and he wasn’t making eye contact, either.

  Because of the nudity, they had a minimal crew up here with them. The make-up girl and gaffers had done their jobs and left. Only two remained: her AD Onyx, and Eli, their big, woolly-bearded main sound guy, wearing one of his seemingly endless supply of Star Wars t-shirts. Onyx was focused on manning Camera 3, the spikes on her black leather wrist bands warning everyone away, and Eli only liked recording sounds, not making them—he’d happily go for hours without talking—which meant neither one was going to be much help in breaking the awkward silence.

  To cap off the awkwardness, Ruby Torres and Jake Hultensaalt were standing ten feet away, wearing little cotton bathrobes for temporary modesty. With nothing underneath them—the clothes they’d hiked up here in were in piles on a boulder off to the side.

  Ruby and Jake had met for the second time in their lives this afternoon. Now they were going to have to get naked together. And Amber was going to have to stand there with Nick and watch while Ruby and Jake got it on. Right in the spot where Amber and Nick had gotten it on yesterday, for real.

  God, she couldn’t have designed a worse torture for herself if she’d tried.

  Well, there was no choice. A film had to get made here. The light in the meadow was absolutely perfect, and they couldn’t afford to waste it.

  So Amber straightened her spine. She’d just have to forget she’d ever seen Nick naked. She had to forget he’d been inside her body. Forget how he’d kissed her and held her as if she were precious to him.

  Because she wasn’t actually precious to him at all; he’d made that abundantly clear.

  “Okay,” Amber said, in her I’m-totally-in-control-here brilliant director voice. “Let’s get this party started! The point of this scene is nakedness—and I don’t mean just physically. It’s about emotional nakedness as they bare their bodies to one another for the first time. This is where the lovers really make their connection internally. After hiding from each other for so long.”

  Ruby nodded earnestly, looking surprisingly nervous, biting at her lower lip. “Nakedness, right.”

  “Emotional nakedness,” Amber repeated. “Real authentic human connection. Bodies are there to bring the souls together.” She tried not to give the impression that her words were in any way directly ironically at Nick, who pretty clearly didn’t have normal human emotions, maybe not even a soul, at least when it came to connecting with the women he got naked with.

  Well, any irony would surely go right over his primitive one-celled primordial-ooze-filled scumbag head.

  The worst part of all this was that she’d always liked what was inside Nick. He’d always seemed so smart about everything, and...and sensitive, and pretty much the most soulful guy she knew. At least around her. At least before he’d fucked her.

  She took a deep breath. Tried to find her center. Tried to tune out everything but the work she had to do. She nodded at Jake and Ruby. “Ready?”

  Jake smiled his famous, carefree grin. “You betcha. Let’s get going with the gettin’ naked.” And he dropped his robe in one smooth shrug and revealed the tall, lean, sculpted broad-shouldered body that had landed him that Sexiest Man People cover and all those millions of dollars in blockbuster film contracts.

  Sweet Cosmic Mother of Pearl, he was a gorgeous animal.

  And the man clearly had zero fear and zero self-consciousness about exposing himself. He looked as comfortable and confident standing there nude, with his cock on full display in its nest of black curls, as other actors would be in a tux on the Academy Awards red carpet. His expression was relaxed and open, Emotional Availability personified.

  But as Jake stood glowing in the sunlight, Ruby Torres seemed to hesitate, fiddling with the belt to her robe as if it were some impossibly intricate knot she had to undo.

  Ruby was nervous taking off her clothes? After all those music videos wearing little more than glitter and a few carefully-positioned scraps of leather? After that see-through Swarovski crystal gown she wore to the Met Gala? After that sexy thriller she shot last year, about the newly-divorced woman who has an affair with the mentally-unhinged teenage boy next door, featuring all those close-ups of her celebrated booty in a thong?

  Not to mention she’d been draped buck-naked over Nick’s bed this morning like a porn star on her coffee break.

  But apparently she was nervous, because her famously lush lips looked thin and pinched, and her fingers were even shaking a little.

  Weird. But okay—just give her a little space. The script was asking a lot from her here.

  Amber couldn’t help noticing that Nick kept his eyes pointed away from Ruby, as he tinkered with the settings on Camera 1. Whic
h meant…what? He’d suddenly developed a modicum of sensitivity, and wasn’t going to ogle his latest lover in front of the friend he’d casually fucked yesterday?

  Or did it mean he was bored stiff with Ruby already…and maybe making plans to bang Katie, that cute redhead in the Ranger Station gift shop, the one who sold the lariats and hand-carved howling wolves and who’d probably relish a hot night with a handsome stranger?

  Probably the latter.

  Which made Amber’s stomach tighten like it was going to toss up her breakfast.

  “Come on,” Jake said to Ruby, teasingly. “Don’t leave me out here all alone with my backside in the breeze.”

  Ruby still had her fingers on the tie of her robe.

  “Okay,” said Jake. “You leave me no choice.” He flashed his famous smile, and then started whistling the theme music from that surprisingly sweet male stripper movie he made two years ago. And oh dear Lord, he put his hands behind his head, fingers knit together to cup his skull, his elbows thrust out to either side, his biceps bulging, and started a slow bump and grind.

  Side to side, pelvic thrust, the muscles of his abdomen rippling as he moved, the deep grooves of his thigh muscles shifting enticingly.

  And, oh, Lordy—he knew how to move. Every muscle in that strong, lean, naked frame was perfectly coordinated, superbly under control, and it was impossible not to imagine what it would be like to be under the sheets with him, with those marvelous hips swiveling and thrusting.

  And why shouldn’t Amber imagine just that? Why shouldn’t she do just that, if she wanted? Louis wasn’t there to tie her down anymore.

  And Nick certainly wasn’t expecting her loyalty.

  The thought of starting something with Jake made her feel just a little bit better—and also managed to make her feel emptier than ever.

  She glanced over at Ruby to see if Jake’s sexy dance was working on her. The diva still looked nervous, face half turned towards the ground, but she was watching him too, from underneath her lashes, there was no mistaking that. She was frozen in place, attention riveted.