by Summers, Amy
Carly stared at her sullenly, then turned away. "I think I believe you," she said shortly, scrubbing hard at the counter with a dish rag. "I've got to admit you're different."
"Different?" Thawn put away the drain board under the sink. "Different from what?"
"Different from all the other women Rafe has gone out with." Their gazes met. "In fact, I almost think I like you, and I can't say that for any of the others."
Thawn wasn't sure she enjoyed being lumped with all Rafe's "other women," but she appreciated the compliment. When they rejoined him, she could see by the warmth of his smile that he got it now, that he didn’t think she was being cruel to his sister. And when she said good night to Carly, she was rewarded with the young woman's first real smile.
Chapter 7
The sun woke Thawn the next morning. Summer had finally come to the central coast. From now on the sky would be bluer than a jay’s wing, the sea a whitecapped azure. Once again the weather fit Thawn's mood. Rafe was her friend and lover, and nothing could be bad while that was true.
Rafe was her friend. She smiled to herself at the thought. He excited her as no man ever had, not even Mark. As long as she kept from wanting too much, maybe she could have the kind of exhilarating fling that other people had so easily. As long as she didn't try to turn it into something serious, she'd be safe from being hurt.
For the next two weeks she saw Rafe regularly. Most of the time she could even forget that he came from the show business world she despised. Only rarely did his work enter their conversations.
He still spent some time every day in San Luis Obispo, the closest city, less than an hour away. His office there had things set up to work with the studio in Hollywood directly, and those who couldn't do their business that way made the four-hour trip north by car or flew in to see Rafe in person.
"What are you working on at that office?" Thawn asked him one day, wondering if he would want to discuss it with her.
They were sitting on a boulder watching sea gulls fight over something floating in the water.
"I'm wrapping up my latest film," he explained. "It's in the final editing stages now. But mostly I'm doing preliminary work on new projects." He picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the waves. "Have you ever seen any of my pictures?"
"Aha—the loaded question." She grinned at him. "As a matter of fact, I saw the spy thriller you put out a few years ago."
"The Randago Twist? How did you like it?" His voice was casual, but she had a sudden intuition that her opinion mattered very much to him.
"I loved it," she said truthfully. "It told a good story and gave a sweeping view of Brazil at the same time."
His satisfied smile rewarded her. "How about Edge of Fear?"
"That I didn't see," she told him emphatically. "I don't like horror movies."
"But it was so much fun." He looked genuinely upset that she'd missed it. "I was really proud of the animated sequence where the dead rise up and—"
She held up a hand. "Spare me, please." She shuddered. "I don’t need pictures of death and bloodiness in my brain. I really can't appreciate the artistry in that sort of entertainment."
He tossed another stone into the sea. "Then I won't make any more of those," he said lightly. "Thrillers are my mainstay, what I do best, but I want to try everything." He laughed softly. "Did you see Remembrance?"
She shook her head. "I don't think I did."
"Probably not. The critics tore it apart, and the studio limited distribution." He smiled. "It was my first try at a romance." Reaching over, he planted a quick kiss on her nose. "That was before I met you. I didn't know much about romance then."
She laughed. "Stick with me, mister. I'll teach you all I know."
He tossed another stone into the sea. "I'm counting on that," he said softly.
She gazed at him speculatively. "What is it like to make movies that the whole world goes to see?"
He raised an eyebrow. "It's a lot like making movies that only the neighborhood kids come to see, which is what I was doing before." He grinned at her grimace. "Actually I guess it's just like writing a book, painting a picture, or having a child. It's wonderful. Exciting. When I'm in the middle of a picture, I'm totally wrapped up in it, hardly aware that anything else exists. But when it's over"—he shrugged— "it's on to the next one. That's what's so great about this business. There's always another project on the horizon, something even more exciting than the last one."
She'd heard before that he worked that way. Everyone had said so. But they'd also said he was that way about women, too. When Rafe Armstrong fell in love, it was deeply and completely—but it never lasted more than a few months.
Thinking about that made her sad, but she knew she was lucky to have him now. Never mind tomorrow.
She'd put off telling him about her brief time in Hollywood for so long there didn’t seem to be any way to bring it up now. Her relationship with Mark, the article, and her part in Mark's fall from grace—she wanted to share them with Rafe. But whenever she had a chance to explain, fear rose in her throat, cutting off speech. What would he think of her when he knew? Would he condemn her? She couldn't risk that. She put it off another day-
Time passed pleasantly. Rafe worked in the mornings. By late afternoon he arrived at Thawn's little cottage. Usually he took her back to his trailer. After he changed, they would lie nearby on a sunny boulder and talk or romp on the rocky shore. Sometimes they walked down to a sandy beach for a swim, explored the shops in the nearby resort town of Cambria, or took Carly for a drive along the Big Sur mountain road.
They talked more and more about the big compromise they needed to work out—the one that would allow Rafe to get his permit. "We really should get Tom in on this," Thawn told him more than once. "He's been with the company much longer than I have. Everyone on the board respects his opinion.
"That may be," Rafe retorted, "but how can you be sure Tom will be amenable to compromise? I have a feeling he won't go for it at all."
Thawn was afraid Rafe was right, but she had to try. And when she first approached Tom about it, he rebuffed her firmly.
"I'm not about to compromise my principles just so your sleazy Hollywood "friend" can put up some gaudy palace on the seashore, stomping all over an important ammonite site in the process."
"Will you just come out and take a look?" Thawn urged him. "Maybe you can help us find a way to make everyone happy."
"You mean make Rafe Armstrong happy," he scoffed. "I won't do it. Let him take his case to the board on his own—if he thinks he has one."
"If you would just listen to his side..."
Tom stopped her with a hollow laugh. "It won't work, Thawn. He can't offer me quite the same incentives he gives you."
She bristled with anger. "Listen, Tom, I don't sell out any more easily than you do. And you can keep your damn help for your own self-righteous self."
She had reached the door before he called her back. She turned, still angry, but something in his expression made her stop to hear him out.
"You know how I feel about you, Thawn," he said awkwardly. "I don't want to see you hurt." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "I wouldn't have done this... well, I did do it..."….
"If you have something to say, say it," she told him icily.
He looked down at his desk top and spoke quickly. "When I realized how serious things were getting with you and Armstrong, I decided to do some checking. I asked around about him—"
"You what?" she cried indignantly. "Who?”
He flashed her a quick look. "I know a few people in Hollywood myself, you know," he said defensively. "So I made a few calls. And I found out—listen Thawn, the guy is no good for you. He's had more ladies who thought they were going to be Mrs. Armstrong than most people have friends."
Thawn held herself very stiff, trying hard not to show how his words hurt her. "I have no intention of being Mrs. Armstrong," she told him evenly. "I know what I'm doing."
&n
bsp; Tom rose and reached for her, concern shining in his eyes. "The man is thirty-eight years old and has never had the slightest interest in settling down with one woman," he told her gruffly. "Why should he start now?"
She shook her head. "He won't. I know that." She wanted to say more, to rail at Tom, but she held back. She knew he was warning her out of concern and affection, and none of it was anything she hadn't already told herself, but his words beat at her ears almost physically, and she was sorry she had paved the way for this. She should have known better.
That afternoon she skipped the details when telling Rafe of her failure to get Tom's assistance. She and Rafe were swimming at the sandy beach on the south end of his property. On the lonely stretch, which was far from any public access except through Rafe's property, they felt comfortable—and safe from onlookers. Tired of body surfing, they were lying at the edge of the tide line, Thawn on her back in the wet sand, Rafe leaning over her. His long, lean body was clad only in swim trunks, though he had carried tan chinos down to the beach over his shoulder. She still wore only her brief bikini.
Each small swell swept cool water up around them, making them laugh and sputter when it caught them by surprise,
"Of course he refused to help," Rafe murmured as he planted a kiss on the end of Thawn's salty nose. "He's jealous."
"Don't be silly," she protested. "There's never been anything serious between us."
"Maybe not, but he wishes there were."
She lifted her head as another foamy wave swept in, washing over her sun-drenched body, then turned back to look at Rafe. "You're being overly sensitive," she told him. 'Tom's never tried anything."
"Never?" He grinned down at her, and pulled aside the strap of her bikini top, exposing one creamy breast to the ocean breeze. "You mean he never tried to touch you like this?" He uncovered the other breast and lightly tapped each tight nipple. "Never tried to kiss you like this?" His warm tongue, curling around the cool tip of her breast, sent a flame through her thighs.
"Never, never, never." She sighed, arching at his touch.
"The more fool he," Rafe muttered, raising himself on top of her and nipping softly at one breast while his thumb and forefinger gently tugged at the other.
Thawn gasped and pulled his wet head down harder, digging her fingers into his hair. "I thought you didn't like sand in your teeth," she teased breathlessly.
"There's always a price to be paid for anything really fine," he answered, moving his hips against hers in rhythmic seduction. "And you're just about the finest thing I know of."
She sensed his quickening desire and tried to pull away. "Not here, you idiot," she whispered.
"Why not?" he demanded, his eyes alight with the glow of rising passion. His teeth tugged gently at her earlobe before starting a trail of sensation down her throat. "Why not do the most natural thing a man and woman can do, right out here in this beautiful setting."
But Thawn was adamant. "Someone might see us," she insisted, rolling out from under him just as a wave caught her full in the face.
"You see?" He chuckled and shook his head in mock despair. "Just retribution. It doesn't pay to shun Mother Nature."
"I'm not shunning her." Thawn laughed as she pulled away the wet hair plastered against her cheeks. "I'm just showing a little respect."
"What are you afraid of?" he asked, sitting up in the now waist-deep water. "Helicopters?"
"Yes," she admitted, trying in vain to readjust her bikini top. "And sea gulls and sea otters and all the rest of them."
"Including World War II frogmen, I suppose."
"Them too." She fumbled with the ties of her suit. "Drat. Would you help me with this? You're the one who took it off."
"I'll help you," Rafe agreed readily, then reached out and unclasped the back closure. As the top fell away from Thawn, she cried out her protest.
"Rafe! Some help you are!"
"Don't put it on," he told her softly, pulling the flimsy beige-printed material out of her hands. "Walk back without it."
She saw the earnest entreaty in his eyes and bit back her protest. "All right," she said slowly. "If you really want me to."
He grinned. "I really want you to."
"As long as you let me cover up before we get in sight of the trailer. After all, you even have chinos to put on over your bathing suit."
He groaned. "Always more concessions. But I suppose that would be best. Come on"
They washed the sand off in the surf, then ran up the beach hand in hand.
"You look like one of those native girls in the geography magazines," he told her. "You look so sexy I don't think I can wait until we get back to the trailer."
"You're going to have to wait longer than that," she told him, laughing. "You're going to have to wait until after dinner with Carly, when you take me home."
The stricken look in his eyes made her laugh harder.
"They say that denial makes a man strong," he grumbled. "At the rate you've got me going, I should be ready to enter the Olympics as a weight lifter by the end of the summer."
They stopped to put on Thawn's bikini top, then approached and entered the trailer, where Carly had dinner waiting for them. When they'd finished their separate showers, they all sat down to chiles rellenos and a crisp green salad.
"You cooked these chiles individually, didn't you, Carly?" Thawn asked admiringly.
Carly nodded. "You wrap a stick of cheese in a piece of chile, dip it in a mixture of egg and flour, and deep fry it until it puffs up. Then you drain the fat, cover the chile with a nice Mexican tomato sauce, and eat."
"And eat and eat," groaned Rafe as he took another helping. "At this rate I may qualify as a weight rather than a weight lifter."
Thawn made a face at his bad joke, but as she looked around the table, she marveled at how far they'd come in a few short weeks. She felt so close to Rafe that it scared her. And Carly had changed from a sullen, shy young woman to an open and friendly one. Now when Thawn visited, Carly chatted with animation on a variety of subjects. Little by little she'd begun to open up, telling Thawn about her past life, the childhood she'd spent with Rafe acting more as a surrogate parent than a brother. But she'd never told her about the night of the accident. Now she joined in the discussion on how to appeal the permit denial. When Thawn told her about Tom's lack of cooperation, she looked thoughtful.
"Would he really make that much difference?" she asked Thawn, her dark eyes somber with concentration.
"We'll make do without him," Thawn told her, "but I'm sure he could really help us if he wanted to."
Carly picked up her water glass and swirled the ice cubes against the side, making a clinking sound. "He won't listen to either one of you because he's jealous," she said thoughtfully.
"Oh, I don't think that's quite right," Thawn began, but Rafe motioned her to be quiet, his eyes on his sister.
"What did you have in mind, Carly?" he asked softly.
She looked up at him, then back down at her plate. "I... if someone else were to try to explain our side to him... someone who isn't involved..." She stopped talking and took a long drink of water.
"Someone like you?" Rafe suggested slowly.
"No! I didn't mean me. Someone else." Carly put down the glass and closed her eyes. "No," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Rafe, but I just can't."
They stared at her for a moment; tears started to squeeze from between her thick lashes. "I'm sorry," she said again. She rose to her feet and ran from the room.
"Leave her alone," Rafe said in a low voice as Thawn jumped up to go after her. "She's got to get over this ridiculous shyness."
Thawn glared at him. "She's not ready yet. Don't make her feel guilty for not being able to face people." She rose and followed Carly to her bedroom.
She sat with Carly for a long time that night. They turned off the lamp and talked in the dark. Somehow that seemed to help Carly say things she otherwise couldn't have.
She talked about the accident, about
how frightened she was of life, about how much it had hurt to lose her fiance. Gary Jarvis had been a young actor Carly had met through her brother.
"Rafe hated Gary," she said at one point.
Thawn glanced at her, startled. "Hated him?"
Carly nodded. "He was against our relationship. That night, when it happened, we'd had a terrible fight. Gary had come to get me at the house in Beverly Hills. Rafe was there. He accused Gary of going out with me just to get a part in his picture."
Thawn frowned. Had Rafe been right? Had Gary been using Carly? But what did it matter now?
"He told Gary to leave, but I ran out a side door and jumped into the car with him." She shook her head. "Rafe didn't know where I'd gone. Gary was driving like a madman..." She shrugged helplessly. "Rafe thinks I should be over it by now." She twisted her fingers together. "What do you think?"
Thawn took a deep breath. "I think you'll get over it in your own time," she told her slowly. "But maybe instead of hiding you should start thinking of establishing goals for yourself, things you want to accomplish in life."
Carly didn't respond, but Thawn hoped she would mull over the suggestion. She thought she knew something about Carly that the young woman hadn’t accepted laltely. Carly was strong inside. Once she found that strength, she'd slowly recover. At least, that was what Thawn was hanging onto.
Rafe was waiting in the living room when she finally left Carly in the bedroom. Only one light was burning, and he sat low on the overstuffed couch, a drink in his hand.
"She's asleep," Thawn told him as she sank down beside him.
"It's time she pulled out of this," he said, looking worried. "She's got to go ahead with the skin grafts soon, and she needs a better frame of mind for that."
Thawn nodded. "But she has to do it on her own."
He moved impatiently. "Then what are we supposed to do, just sit back and wait for her to come to that conclusion herself? I feel like I've waited too long already. Maybe if I took a firmer stand..."
Thawn bit her lip. "Wait awhile longer," she suggested tentatively. "You know, I might just have a plan myself," she said slowly. "I don't know how good it will be, but at least it's something."