He's So Shy

by Linda Cajio

  He kissed her again. “Let’s go into the house.”

  Inside was still as sterile as she remembered it. No wonder Richard was becoming withdrawn again.

  “I heard Mary Jane walked off the set today.”

  Richard uttered a curse she hadn’t thought he’d even know. “You’ve been hanging around Libby too much.”

  “I’ve got a lot more of them too.” He made a face. “I hate actors. What spoiled brats they are. She blew up because I missed my cue. Once.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He shook his head. “No. And I didn’t miss my cue. But she threw a tantrum in front of everyone.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t strangle her,” Pen said.

  “Me too. But it had nothing to do with my missing cues. Mary Jane walked only because there’s all this publicity and none of it’s going in her direction. The producers will have a fit and blame me.” He made another face. “I sound like I’m whining.”

  “No. Just mad.”

  “Hell, this is no way to make a picture, Pen. I can’t stand to be on the set. There’s nothing.” He gazed at her. “This is a plum part for me. A great character, so well-rounded. Sweet Jesus, but you could see him leaping off the pages of the script. I can’t look at the dailies; a lot of actors can’t watch themselves. But I feel it. Or I did before Mary Jane got to the set. And Libby’s doing a helluva job. She’s going to get an Academy Award nomination—if one prima donna doesn’t take the whole thing down.”

  “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

  “You have no idea how bad.”

  Words were left unsaid, but they hovered in the air. Tangible. Waiting.

  Pen sighed, knowing she had to face facts and her responsibility to two people she loved. “I suppose since Libby is now your true love in the eyes of the media, I could come up to the set. Or maybe you don’t want me to.”

  He pulled her to him and practically growled, “You know damn well I do. I need a friend, Penelope Marsh.”

  With a lazy, promising smile, she rocked herself intimately against him. “A friend like this?”

  “You bet.” His arms tightened around her. “And one I can trust too.”

  His mouth came down on hers.

  Pen drove onto the set, her stomach tight with knots even before she spotted the mob of reporters being held behind a barrier by several security men who looked as if they meant business. She parked the car behind several perimeter trailers and got out to brave the gauntlet.

  Her nerves danced as several looked curiously at her. If they knew who she was, they didn’t show any interest. Neither was any interest shown when she murmured her name to the one security guard with a clipboard. She was checked off and let through. A round of groans went up from behind her, but only because she’d been admitted and the stringers hadn’t.

  An odd disappointment rose inside her, and she grinned, knowing she was being idiotic to be miffed that she was a nobody again. Even if she boldly announced she and not Libby was Richard’s “item,” she was positive they’d think she was lying to protect her cousin.

  But as she emerged into the area of actual filming, another kind of anxiety took over.

  She was definitely back in the lion’s den.

  TEN

  Richard spotted Pen as she slowly approached the edges of the filming area. She looked as if she were being forced to walk the plank, he thought, but it felt so damn good to see her. More than good. He wanted to run over and drag her into his arms, then kiss her senseless. He knew he couldn’t, but he felt ready for anything now—including another of Mary Jane’s temper tantrums.

  The crew and those cast members who knew Pen greeted her cheerfully and with genuine smiles. It had been a while since anyone had seen those, he thought as he made his way toward her.

  “Old George the Third in the midst of Washington’s army wouldn’t look as glum as you, miss,” he said, stopping short and not touching her. But he drank her in with his gaze, the light flowery skirt and long sleeveless vest hiding nothing of the body he knew as well as his own. Her sandals were a couple of straps and no more. Although he had no interest in toes, he had to admit that the effect of the delicate sandals was sensual. “Or as pretty.”

  “Everything looks quiet on the frontier, Mr. Freemont,” she commented, smiling as she shaded her eyes against the brutal August sun while glancing around the set.

  “Quiet now that reinforcements have arrived—and you’re a damn sight better lookin’ than these folks.” She was keeping him in character. He needed it. He’d felt as if he’d lost the thread of Ezekiel with Mary Jane’s disruptions.

  She grinned. “What do you wear under that loincloth, anyway?”

  “Just you whenever possible.”

  Her face colored and he chuckled. Maybe Ezekiel was wearing off on him. They kept their voices low so no one would overhear. Richard knew it looked as if he were only exchanging pleasantries with the cousin of his latest “woman.” The urge to laugh nearly overwhelmed him, but he pushed it away. The urge to kiss her was more troublesome to control.

  “Mary Jane hasn’t graced us with her presence yet,” he continued, deciding that if the discussion kept up in the same vein, he would be “up” before long. “She’s three hours late. Every TV show from ‘Entertainment Tonight’ to Joan Rivers’s gossip segment has picked up on the tabloids, so I wonder if she’ll even appear. I wish I could touch you.”

  “Better not.” But the words never reached her eyes. In them were reflected the desire of all the nights they’d shared. “Libby looks calm, considering her female star is late.”

  Richard glanced over at Pen’s cousin, who was watching the playback camera which showed a continuously running videotape they made of the production. “She does, doesn’t she? All I know is that she says Mary Jane is fine now and she’ll be here.”

  “You’re calm too.”

  “Because you’re here.”

  “And sassy.”

  “Because you’re here.” He lifted his hair from his neck, the August heat getting to him, and pulled a rubber band from his leather ammunition bag to wrap his hair in a tail while they were waiting. The linen shirt was cool enough, but the leggings and mocs didn’t breathe. Everyone was wilting while they waited on the “star.”

  Finally a murmur of relief began at one end of the set, slowly growing as people parted. Richard turned with Pen to see Mary Jane striding through the crowd. She was dressed in street clothes, clearly not even close to being ready to film. He felt Pen stiffen beside him and glanced at her in puzzlement. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Mary Jane checked her gait in front of him.

  “You look terrible, Richard,” she said, eyeing him. “Like you’re ready to collapse.”

  “You’re not looking so cool yourself,” he told her in return, not allowing her an inch in the war she’d chosen to wage. It was obvious that whatever Libby had done to get her back on the set, she hadn’t managed to change the lady’s attitude. He added, “I guess we both better visit makeup ASAP.”

  Someone had the nerve to twitter in the ensuing silence. A murderous look came into Mary Jane’s eyes. Richard merely smiled innocently at her.

  “You’re the little cousin, aren’t you?” Mary Jane said to Pen, clearly deciding she was the next victim.

  “That’s me,” Pen replied in a cheerful voice that made Richard wonder if he’d imagined her earlier tension. “Little … and Libby’s cousin.”

  Mary Jane smiled maliciously. “You haven’t been around for a while. Where’ve you been?”

  “Vacation.”

  “Well, you’ve really missed some hot stuff with Libby and Richard here. I’m surprised their affair didn’t get out sooner.”

  Richard immediately opened his mouth to deny Mary Jane’s words when Pen laughed. It was an easy one, filled with good humor. “If you think they’re bad here, you should see them at home.”

  Richard decided Ezekiel would grin and keep his tail out o
f the cat fight, so he just grinned and kept his tail out of the cat fight.

  “Mary Jane, my angel!” Libby called out, coming over to them. “You’re here. Go get into costume in your nice cool trailer. We have a sweet little flirtation scene, where you shine. Pen, be a love and babysit my darling Richard while we’re waiting. I have several things to go over with the lighting people, and you’re the only one I can trust with this sexy hunk. I wouldn’t want him overheating, either. You can use his trailer.”

  Libby patted Richard on the cheek—not the one on his face. He hoped he didn’t flinch in surprise.

  Mary Jane’s expression was positively ugly, and he expected her to walk straight off the set again. But she whipped around and headed for her trailer. The wardrobe girl raced after her. The entire set breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t hit you,” Pen murmured to her cousin.

  “Control.” The two of them laughed.

  As they walked to his trailer Richard said, “Want to tell me what that ‘control’ bit with Libby meant?”

  “A joke between cousins.” Pen eyed him. “What have you and Libby been doing while I was in hibernation?”

  “Being wild and passionate,” he said with a straight face. “Don’t you read the papers? Can I kill Mary Jane and get away with it?”

  “You’ll have to wait in line … behind me.”

  As soon as they were inside his trailer, he backed her against the door, plastered himself against her, and kissed her thoroughly. Cool air wafted over his skin but didn’t chill the heat building inside him.

  “I’m not sure this is the babysitting Libby had in mind,” Pen said breathlessly as he spread kisses along her shoulder.

  “It is. Trust me.” He kissed her again on the lips.

  “This is dangerous.” But Pen’s hands were trailing down his back, her fingers kneading his flesh through the light shirt.

  “Not this,” he muttered as his blood surged dangerously. “Making love to you is as necessary as breathing and eating. Meet me at the house tonight. I need you.”

  “I need you.”

  Things hadn’t progressed to the necessities of life when the call came to return to the set, but Richard took his mark near the fort’s wall in exactly the right frame of mind for a flirtation scene. Easy and relaxed …

  “And … action,” Libby called.

  “Line,” Mary Jane immediately requested, blowing the entire mood.

  Richard waited patiently as Mary Jane was fed her line. He glanced at Pen, resisting the urge to exchange an intimate smile. Somehow her presence gave him the patience to abide the nonsense. When Mary Jane was ready again, Libby called for action.

  They got a three-sentence exchange filmed when Mary Jane announced, “Richard’s off. I can’t get into it.”

  “Sorry,” Richard said, deciding not to argue the point. It wasn’t worth it, and it would only hold everything up.

  They tried the scene again.

  “The sun’s in my eyes,” Mary Jane suddenly complained. “I can feel myself squinting.”

  “Kill the sun!” Libby called out as everyone groaned and began running to reposition equipment.

  Mary Jane smiled smugly at Richard. “By the way, I’ve got a big interview with ‘Entertainment Tonight.’ It’ll be their lead. Isn’t that terrific? It’s about time someone talked about the film.”

  “Great,” Richard said, feeling the stab. He knew this was what had lured the woman back. And she was throwing it out to him to upset his emotional balance yet again. He refused to permit it. “You’ll do a good job, I’m sure. I turned them down three times last month, so the publicist will be happy they went for someone else.”

  Mary Jane stiffened. Richard knew it was petty, but her manipulations grated on his nerves. If this scene even approached quality, it would take a helluva acting job on his part.

  The scene began once again. This time it was Libby who called a halt to the proceedings. Richard glared at his director, wondering what was wrong now. Mary Jane was finally cooperating, having run out of complaints.

  “Mary Jane’s a little too much in the shade now, and we can’t see her face. Set the light reflectors back a little, and we’ll try it again.”

  They tried it again. Libby yelled “Cut” about halfway through the scene. And she did it once more—without even looking up from the clipboard on her lap. In neither case did she say what the problem was.

  “What?!” Mary Jane screamed in frustration. “What’s wrong now?”

  “I’m not really sure,” Libby mused, her gaze going back to the clipboard. “Try it again.”

  Richard set his jaw, the retakes beginning to get on his nerves, too, when he noticed Libby exchange a swift look with Pen. That “control” talk earlier suddenly fell into place. Libby was controlling her actors, not the other way around. The whole bit, from playing along with the tabloids to asking for retake after retake without explaining why, was designed to put Mary Jane in her place. Subtle, but clearly effective.

  Richard relaxed, willing to reshoot the scene for the next ten years. He decided the producers ought to pay Pen just for showing up.

  She was definitely good for the picture—and positively essential for him.

  “Okay!” Libby called out. “That’s a wrap for today. Remember, everyone, on Monday we move into the New York set for the big love scene. Buses leave Sunday afternoon from the college for those of the crew who are needed.”

  Pen tensed at her cousin’s last words. What big love scene? Richard had never said anything before about a big love scene. Neither had Libby.

  “That ought to be some acting,” a crew member said to another as they passed by her. Others around her were already talking about the prospects of going into the city for a few days. A few days! How the hell long did a love scene take to film?

  Maybe it was between Mary Jane and her character’s husband, she told herself, even though she had a sinking feeling it wasn’t. Watching the flirtation scene was enough. Not really flirtation, more like tentative admissions of their feelings for each other. Even with the disruptions, it had been almost painful to watch Richard gaze at another woman the way he had. But a full love scene … a few days … his dislike of Mary Jane could turn to something else entirely.

  She couldn’t even stand the thought. It was her worst nightmare come true.

  Libby walked over to her. “It was great to have you here today.” Her voice lowered. “Really good for you-know-who. How did I do with my crabby child?”

  Pen couldn’t help smiling. “You were a bitch in control. I don’t think anyone but her minded.”

  “It was time to let her know things would be different.” Libby grinned.

  Pen refused to ask, didn’t want to ask, wasn’t going to ask … “What’s this about a love scene?”

  “The biggie in the movie between Charlotte and Ezekiel.” Libby shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

  “You just said it was a biggie. Is it …” Pen swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. “Is it a nude scene?”

  Somebody called Libby away before she could answer. She patted Pen’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Pen muttered under her breath, heading for her car. She passed the line of reporters without even breaking her stride and got in her car. Again none of them showed any interest in her, so her visit to Richard’s trailer had been accepted at face value—if they’d even heard about it. Not that she was worried about that now.

  She was pulling into her driveway when she remembered Richard had asked her to meet him at his house after the day’s shooting. She pushed the gearshift into “park” and just sat there with the motor running, knowing the last place she wanted to go was Richard’s. He’d never said a word about this upcoming love scene.

  “You’re a coward, Pen Marsh,” she said. “Yeah, I know.”

  She jammed the gear back in “drive” and peeled out of her drivewa
y. Richard wasn’t there yet when she arrived. She didn’t wonder why she was there waiting, against all her good judgment. She knew.

  She was in love. And she hated it.

  Despite all the impossible obstacles, she’d fallen in love. And like a doormat, she kept coming back for more. Because she knew there wouldn’t be much more, she acknowledged. Because she didn’t care about the heartbreaking aftermath; she wanted desperately what was the “now.” It was a bargain she’d made from the beginning with herself. And it was one she needed to keep.

  Richard finally arrived in an electrical supply truck from the set. He got out of the cab after a comment to the security man behind the wheel.

  The moment the truck was out of view on the private road, Richard swept her up into his kiss. Pen forgot everything as she lost herself in sheer sensation. Nothing mattered when he kissed her like this. And he always kissed her like this, as if she were the most important woman in the world and he couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Richard,” she murmured, clinging to him helplessly when he finally eased his mouth away.

  He just laughed. “See what having you on the set does to me?”

  They went inside the house, Pen not quite sure how she walked on her wobbly legs to get there.

  “Will you come to New York with me?” Richard asked as he dropped his backpack on a foyer chair.

  Pen blinked, nowhere near ready to deal with the question, let alone the problem. “Uh … I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  He turned around, something in her tone having given away her apprehension. “You will go, won’t you? I’ve been planning to surprise you with it tonight, but Libby spoiled it with her announcement. Pen, we’ll have a few days together out of Blairstown and in anonymous New York. I’m in a suite at the Plaza Hotel.”

  “But …” she began, struggling to find the right words that wouldn’t make her vulnerable.

  “If you’re worried about people finding out, don’t.” He laughed. “All the rooms were taken in the producer’s name, and the hotel’s reputation for being discreet is above reproach. They wouldn’t survive if they weren’t. Besides, nobody’s going to budge from the notion that Libby and I are a hot item.”