He's So Shy

by Linda Cajio

  Pen felt deflated. Richard had said they needed to be sure about this. But all she knew for sure was that one moment they were kissing and in the next he was disappearing faster than an ice block in a sauna.

  She leaned her head back in the chair and put her hands over her face.

  She’d think about this tomorrow.

  He had been a perfect gentleman, Richard thought as he climbed into his trailer that night. Absolutely perfect, and it had almost killed him.

  He wanted Pen, wanted her very badly. But he needed her to feel the same way. And he didn’t want to rush things. He wished he was more prepared to handle this, but he’d been alone too long. Nuances of relationships always seemed to escape him. But tonight he was on the right track. He had to be.

  So why did he need a cold shower? And why did he think there were a lot of them in his future?

  “Pen, we’ve got a problem,” Libby began the next morning.

  Not compared to hers, Pen thought as Richard emerged from his dressing trailer and crossed the set, distracting her from her cousin’s monologue. They were at a new location, up on cliffs above a quarry lake, about ten miles from Blairstown, although filming had been delayed for some reason this morning. But the rugged backdrop only emphasized Richard’s brooding looks—especially since she’d had tons of time to observe him. He, the real Richard, fit here in this lonely place.

  Oh, boy, but she had the groupie fever bad. She never should have invited him into her home, let alone kissed him. More than a kiss, she reminded herself. It had been like falling off one of these cliffs. If he hadn’t stopped things … at least that’s what she concluded he’d been doing. Despite continual self-reminders that this would be no more than a fling for him, a reckless, live-for-the-moment part of her wanted him—and damn the emotional consequences he’d leave behind.

  “… so you’ll do it. Thanks a bunch. You’re terrific. I told them you’d be happy to help out. Makeup! Wardrobe!” Libby shouted out.

  “What makeup? What wardrobe? What help out?” Pen babbled, staring at her cousin.

  Libby turned to her in exasperation as people came running from all directions, “The actress who was supposed to do the scene is sick, and the idiot girl never said a word to anyone! We’ve set all this up for the rescue scene, you know the one I mean, and not a word from that girl! How the hell am I supposed to stay on schedule for the studio when some ditzy actress, the only one for the scene, doesn’t even show up for work? And she’ll get paid for it, dammit! The actors’ union’ll see to that.”

  “But, but,” Pen sputtered as the horrible realization set in that Libby meant for her to take the missing actress’s place. “There has to be another actress around, Libby! I can’t do it!”

  “Of course you can. It’s simple. You go over the cliff with Richard to save yourselves from the Indians. All you’ve got to do is fall, for goodness sake! And there isn’t another actress around. We don’t have extra people on the set unless we need them, because we have to pay them. Union rules. By the way, you’ll have to join the union. See Jerry, who’ll arrange for that today. It’s irregular, but it’s happened before.”

  “But, but—”

  The makeup and wardrobe masters swarmed around her, cutting off her words. Libby said, “Okay, people, you’ve got a half hour to get her into shape. You’ll be great, Pen. Absolutely great. I’ll make sure you get in the credits. See? A little nepotism goes a long way. And just think of the great physics lesson you can teach on this: Can a woman fall faster than a man?”

  “No, she can’t!” Pen wailed as she was hauled away by people discussing her size, shape, and color over her head.

  Thirty minutes later, right on the dot, she found herself transformed into a colonial settler with striped skirt, white low-cut blouse cinched by a woman’s brown weskit, and heavy black buckled shoes, all appropriately dirtied. A dingy mobcap had been pulled over her forehead, her hair completely hidden, and half her face obscured by the wide ruffle around the cap.

  In wardrobe, Pen realized that the fall couldn’t be really dangerous. They’d never risk actors—and especially not the star—if it were. They’d get a stuntman and stuntwoman for this scene if the action posed any threat.

  She had to admit that the prospect of being in a movie was exciting. She’d be the envy of everyone in the teachers’ room at school.

  “You look great!” Libby said. “Richard! Come see your costar for today.”

  Richard walked over to them. Pen braced herself, feeling the tremor in her smile at finally facing him after last night. They had seemed to avoid actually speaking to each other all morning. He halted when he caught sight of her face under the cap.

  “You can’t be serious, Libby,” he said, eyeing Pen up and down. “Pen’s no actress.”

  Pen bristled. “I don’t actually have to act, only fall off a cliff.”

  He glared at her. “I know you have to fall off the cliff. Have you even looked at the drop? It’s no piece of cake. This is work for stunt people.”

  “Oh, bull,” Libby broke in.

  “They wouldn’t risk you if they thought you’d get hurt,” Pen said, stiffening her spine.

  Richard just snorted in disgust, giving Pen the distinct impression that he knew exactly what Libby and the studio would risk. “Do you think this is your big break? Is that why you’re doing this?”

  Pen clenched her jaw to control her temper, then spat out, “I’ve jumped off high places before. I’m not scared.”

  “Only idiotic!”

  “It’s okay,” Libby said, hastily intervening. “Anyway, we can’t hold up the filming. And Pen volunteered.”

  Pen shot her cousin a look, ready to open her mouth again. Instead, she clamped her jaw shut. This was some greeting from the man who had kissed her senseless the night before.

  Richard turned and strode away, his body stiff with anger.

  “See?” Libby said, turning to follow him. “Everything’ll be fine.”

  Pen brought up the rear, cursing under her breath all the way. Richard’s moods changed like night and day. She’d never understand him. And what was that last crack about a big break? The only thing she’d be breaking was her neck.

  A look over the cliff showed a two-story drop into a lake. Pen swallowed. It was about as high as an Olympic platform diving board, she estimated. But the big question was, how deep was the lake?

  “How deep is the lake?” she asked, deciding not to pass on the question of the year.

  “Not deep enough to make this jump a piece of cake,” Richard muttered, walking away after his own look.

  “It’s fine,” Libby said, waving at the stunt coordinator. “Bob’ll tell you. Won’t you, Bob?”

  Bob made an unreadable gesture. “Jump out, not down, and you should be okay.”

  Pen glanced down and swallowed. Out, not down. Out, not down. Broken neck, not dead. Get out of this now. Breathing deeply, she said, “You’re only in the movies once. I’m ready.”

  Libby whisked her away, positioning her on the mark. Several Indians positioned themselves about twenty yards from her, the grins on their faces the only accessories to their loincloths. Hell, she thought, was Libby filming an accurately costumed movie or a Chippendale dancers reunion?

  Richard took a stance close to her. Her breath suddenly went shallow, and her chest still felt tight.

  He muttered, “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Have your precious filming for the day go down the drain? Have Libby murder me for saying no?” Her hands were shaking. She wasn’t sure whether her reaction was from anger, excitement, arousal, or healthy fear.

  He took her arm. “Yes, that’s exactly what you’re suppose to do. Dammit, Pen, you don’t know what you’re doing. You’ll get hurt—”

  “It’s an opportunity,” she interrupted, his touch distracting. “The kids—”

  “You’re not some damn experiment!”

  “Okay!
” Libby shouted, interrupting the argument. “Richard, you and the settler woman have been caught outside the fort by the Chickasaw scouting party. This woman has been coming on to you … you’re in love with Robertson’s wife, Charlotte … but there’s no hope there and so you intended to temporarily lose your pain with this woman …”

  Pen realized she was playing the fort’s whore. Great, she thought. The school board would probably fire her the instant the film came out.

  “… but you let your guard down and are now responsible for placing her in danger,” Libby continued, giving the motivation for the scene. “You have got to save her, or you won’t be able to live with yourself. You have burst out of the woods from your interrupted interlude, which is already on schedule to film tomorrow, by the way, so I’m sure Julie will be better for that.” Libby glanced slowly around at the crew, imparting the clear message that somebody had better tell this to the missing Julie. “Pen, when I say ‘Action,’ you just run like hell and follow Richard’s lead. Don’t anticipate the jump! Richard leads the girl right up over the edge of the ‘bluffs’ of the ‘Cumberland River.’ That’s the quarry lake here. Oh, and scream while you’re going down.”

  Pen nodded, not trusting her voice. Run like hell, follow Richard’s lead. Jump out, not down, but look like you don’t know to jump out, not down. And remember to scream. She had a feeling the last instruction was going to be a cinch to follow.

  “Pen, please,” Richard said, his voice low. “Tell Libby you can’t do this.”

  Pen stared at him. He cared about her, really cared about her. “I—”

  “Action!” Libby yelled.

  “Run, woman! Run if you value your life!” Richard bellowed into her face, his whole being transforming in an instant into Ezekiel Freemont.

  He grabbed her hand, yanking her off her feet, and broke into a dead run. She stumbled over the long skirts and nearly fell before she could grab them up out of the way with her left hand. Richard dragged her along, never stopping for her. The men behind her whooped loudly, clearly seeing the chance she was inadvertently giving them to catch up, the sound so close it raised the hairs on the back of her neck. They’d be overtaken, she thought, and Libby would kill her. Pen put on a burst of speed, the awkward shoes in danger of slipping on the smooth dirt and stones, until she was not only keeping up with Richard but almost passing him.

  They ran neck and neck in a sprint that Secretariat would have been proud of. A second later the ground dropped off under their feet, and Pen found herself sailing through the air.

  “Woooeeee!” Richard yelled joyously.

  The skirts flew up over her face, blocking her view, and she screamed in panic at not being able to see. She frantically pushed them down with her free hand and then she was plunging into ice-cold water. It hit her with a smack, taking her breath. The skirts came over her head and shoulders again, this time entrapping her in their smothering arms as the water closed over her head and took her down into its depths. She pushed the skirts out of way again, but could feel them pulling heavily at her legs when she tried to swim up to the surface. Richard’s hand was on her arm still, dragging her up with him as he swam. Her lungs began to clamor for air, telling her that despite her efforts she was far too slow. She kicked and pushed ever upward in yet another race, this one truly dangerous if she lost.

  She broke the surface with a whoosh. The water sucked her back in over her head, but she forced her way up, treading to keep her head above the surface. Richard was next to her, and she could feel the water swirling around both of them, like a sensual bond entrapping them together. His hair was plastered to his head, and water streamed off his face, beading his lashes.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She grinned, even though the skirts and shoes were heavy. Pushing the drooping mobcap out of her eyes, she pronounced, “I’m great!”

  He grinned back, nudging her with him as he swam closer to the shore. When their feet touched bottom, he stopped her and started to chuckle. “I ought to shoot you for doing this. You make me crazy.”

  “Do I?”

  “You do.”

  “You left last night so abruptly.”

  Those gorgeous eyes widened. “For you. I don’t want to rush you.”

  “You didn’t talk to me this morning.”

  “I was afraid I’d do what Ezekiel intended with the fort woman. If I had known it would be you … I like you, Pen.”

  She swallowed. “You do?”

  He pulled her to him, into the circle of his arms. Into his warmth. “I do.”

  He kissed her. His mouth was wet, his lips cool … but his tongue was warm, warming her. She ran her hands through his hair, delighting in the feel of the wet strands and the heat of his skin. Her skirts wrapped around both their legs, unsteadying them for an instant and breaking off the kiss.

  “Very nice!” Libby called out above them. “But you’re suppose to be drowned now, Pen, not kissing our guilt-ridden man here.”

  They looked up to see not only Libby but everyone else crowded along the edge of the cliff. Pen blushed, horrified to realize that the entire crew had seen the kiss.

  “Okay,” Libby called out, breaking up the audience. “Pull ’em out, blow dry ’em off and into makeup again. I want to get a second take in the can.”

  “I can’t!” Pen exclaimed, in shock. Once over the cliff into madness was quite enough.

  “Too late,” Richard said, grinning.

  As she looked into those green-green eyes that mirrored the humor and intelligence within the man, she knew it was too late for a lot of things. Even as her heart lifted up, she knew she was sunk.

  Richard took her hand and pulled her to shore.

  FIVE

  “Are you free for an after-dinner walk?” Richard asked the moment Pen opened her front door.

  He couldn’t help smiling to himself as she stared at him in bewilderment. She was in that flowing caftan again, the seeming de rigueur fashion for her evenings. Didn’t she get out? He wasn’t complaining, he decided, only wondering.

  “An after-dinner walk?” she repeated, blinking.

  “It’s after dinner,” Richard reminded her. In fact, the last rays of the summer sun were tilting over the mountains, turning the sky a muted orange-gray. “I thought we’d go along the pond behind the waterworks building and take the footbridge on the academy side.” His gaze lowered to the curves of her breasts. The thin silky material beautifully draped their fullness. Blood began to pulse in his veins, lightly, controllable still—but not if he continued to stare … and imagine. He shifted his gaze to her face, and found himself mesmerized by the slight tangling of her hair. The strands seemed to curl in and around each other as if his fingers had threaded their way through them. He leaned slightly forward. “A walk in the moonlight, Pen. It can be very romantic.”

  “I’m never sure who you are at any given moment,” she said wistfully.

  He chuckled. “Me neither, sometimes. Can I just be Richard tonight?”

  She sighed. “I shouldn’t. But I’ve been doing a lot of things I shouldn’t lately. Like jumping off cliffs. Come on in while I get changed.”

  She opened the door wider, and he stepped inside. Lolita immediately rushed to greet him, meowing her pleasure at his arrival and rubbing against his legs.

  “She certainly knows how to welcome people,” Richard said, picking up the cat and placing her in the crook of his arm. He petted her, and she purred loudly.

  “Good thing she’s not a watchdog,” Pen said. “I’d be lucky if the house was still standing.”

  She excused herself, and Richard watched her go upstairs, belatedly realizing how stiff the undercurrents had been for two people who had kissed passionately in front of a crowd just hours earlier. Maybe she was tired from the strain of the two jumps. After all, this was different for her, hardly the usual school day.

  He went to the foot of the stairs. “Are you okay after today’s jumps?” he shouted up to her. />
  “Fine!” she called back, her voice muffled through a closed door. Now she sounded strong, not particularly tired. Richard shrugged.

  A walk, he told himself firmly. He might be feeling like jumping from the rooftops, but he should try to keep his euphoria under control, he warned himself. Still, he felt on top of the world—and all because of that very public kiss he and Pen had shared. With it he’d declared himself for all to see, and for some reason that open commitment made him feel ecstatic.

  Pen came back downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in beige walking shorts and a blue and white shirt, the sleeves rolled up above her elbows. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and held by a blue ribbon. Richard thought she looked gorgeous.

  “We’ll probably get eaten alive by the mosquitoes,” she commented.

  “No, we won’t,” he said, putting Lolita on the floor and shooing her into the living room with a gentle pat on the rump.

  Pen laughed as they went out the front door. “You’ve been away from New Jersey too long.”

  “I have a special survival technique for keeping the mosquitoes away,” he said, standing on her doorstep.

  “Really? What’s that?”

  He pulled a small aerosol can out of his back pocket. “Bug spray.”

  Pen burst into laughter. “Stinker!”

  “That’s what we’ll be after this. Here, hold out your arm.”

  She did, while saying, “You know everyone thinks you’re using bear grease or some other old-fashioned survival trick, making yourself another Daniel Boone.”

  “Daniel Boone would have killed for some of this stuff. Besides, I’ve got to be me once in a while, and this is definitely one of those times.” He took her by the wrist and sprayed a light dose of the repellent along her arm. Her skin was warm to his touch, and silken. His hand enclosed her wrist easily, the feminine bone and muscle seemingly fragile yet having a resilient strength.

  He got them both sprayed with a minimum of fuss, and they began their walk toward the old waterworks building, now the town library. The pond and the footbridge lay behind it.