"Planet Vabre," Rich rushed out.
Xander shook his head, even though Rich wasn't there to see. "No. I don't do B-rated sci-fi. Romance is my thing, my forte. What's the next romance on your desk, Rich?"
"That's just it, X. They all want young twenty-year-olds for the parts."
Xander clutched the steering wheel so tight his knuckles went white. "Jesus, Rich. You're killing me."
"Listen, when Illegally Yours comes out in a few months, the offers will come rolling in again. Right now, you need to be diverse. You've done over twenty films, all of them romances. Try something else."
"Rich, I'm sticking to what I'm good at and what keeps me on the guest lists and VIPs. Switching can ruin my career."
"So could sticking to the same genre. Well, come back to L.A. We'll talk about it some more." As usual, Rich hung up without a goodbye.
Xander had been making films for ten years. The offers for him to play the next big role had never stopped coming…until apparently, now. He turned a drab flick into a masterpiece. His Creole and Spaniard blood gave him an exotic appearance like no other man in the business. He didn't want Rich to be right; he wanted to be right. Guys who played in B-rated sci-fi and horror flicks barely got noticed. He didn't want to be one of those guys, lost and forgotten among the reels. Xander scoffed. I think not. He'd been a six-time 50 Hottest Guys winner, for Pete's sake.
His phone rang. It was his publicist Perry. He was probably afraid Xander might've tainted his image somehow. He always wanted to be ready when the impending paparazzi snapshots were set loose to the media. Xander was tired of being coddled, tired of being monitored, just fucking tired of being brushed aside until they worried he did something wrong
"Damn it!" He rolled down the window and the bitter chill wind caught him off guard as he chucked his ringing cell out the car in a fit of rage. There was no way he would bend on this. Chicks thought he was a romantic guy. Hell, most of the time he didn't even try hard to bed them, not when their affection was already there. If they didn’t seem all that eager, he merely had to drop a few small lines from his flicks and they never even knew the difference, unless they were devoted fans and knew his lines word for word. A sci-fi flick would ruin all of that with one bad rating.
Damn Rich for not remembering to forward the memo. Xander was fading off the radar and no one noticed but him. Rich had the young actors and actresses on speed dial when something promising landed on his desk. They were to be the next big star. That used to be him: eager young stud who became an acting god onscreen. Thirty isn't old. There were still older actors who were big hits and still making bigger names for themselves. But then again, the young stars were the “in” thing now. Like Kingsley Victor. He sneered when he thought of the boy's perfect hair and the fans he stole daily.
With that remembrance, Xander realized he was still driving toward a movie set he no longer belonged on and that he was a dipshit for tossing out his phone. He found an open patch on the side of the road and made a U-turn. Not a patch at all but a bank of snow that gave way under the weight of the small sedan. The front end of his car dropped into a steep ravine and his face collided with the steering wheel. Pain burned through Xander's nose. He winced, trying to breathe through the agony.
The sting dimmed just as warm liquid dripped down over his lips. Still somewhat dazed, he noticed red stained his expensive coat and pants. To stop the bleeding, he clutched his nose and realized the car was at an angle that would need a tow truck. He went to reach for his phone and then recalled throwing it out. Fuck. He clenched his fist and hit the dash, groaning at the throb that ricocheted through his hand. This day was turning into shit. His nose bled for a few minutes more before he slowly unclenched it. He flipped the visor down to make sure it hadn’t broken. Though it might make his image seem more rugged and manly, it was a multi-billion-dollar face. Rich would be pissed if he jacked it up. After digging crumpled napkins out of the glove box, he stuffed a few in his nostrils and called it good. He flipped the visor back up and scanned his surroundings. He hadn't caught sight of a town for miles, but signs put him ten miles shy of Trapper Creek. His eyes caught a glimpse of something tan some yards away from the road. It stood like a dirty giant boulder along the pristine snow. And was that tire tracks leading to it? He squinted to focus better. Hot damn! Across the snow, what looked like hundreds of yards away, sat a small cottage. Smoke wafted from the chimney, which meant someone was home. They should have a phone.
****
Freezing his nuts off, Xander trudged to the cottage porch with his backpack and luggage. The snow was falling like clouds of dusted sugar. Visibility in the distance was near impossible and he wondered how much farther he would've gotten up the road had he still been driving. He pulled the bloody stuffers out of his nose and buried them in the snow before marching up the steps. He knocked briskly at the door and waited. It opened to reveal a petite woman of average height, sporting a reddened nose and cheeks against toffee skin and bloodshot eyes. When she caught sight of him, her puffy eyes widened in shock and her mouth gaped like a fish as she rendered herself speechless.
"Can I use your phone? My car is in a ditch." He set his bags on the porch and she stepped back, swinging the door wide for him to enter the small homely cottage. "Thanks, I should be out of your hair in a second."
The first thing he noticed was the undecorated Christmas tree with no presents underneath and a welcoming fire. At the base of the hearth, a photo album with pictures scattered all over littered the living room. The next thing was the TV. Tennessee Rain. Of all his movies, she was watching that one. He loathed that film. They’d edited the best parts out and put the bad-angle views in. She flicked the screen off, as if she didn't want him to know she'd been watching his film, and retrieved her purse from the two-seating table. She handed him a cell phone and kept staring in shock. Self-conscious about the blood all over his shirt, Xander faced away from her. He dug the business card out of his wallet and called the rental car place, hoping perhaps they knew or had a tow truck service. After going through the recorded prompts on the line, he was able to speak to a representative of the service department.
"Sorry, sir, no tow trucks are dispatching till the storm comes through and is over," she said.
"Well, the car is in a ditch," Xander said gruffly.
"And there it will stay till after the blizzard. We don't risk these things. No other tow truck company will come and help you. In fact, I'm the last one in the office and I'm leaving after I hang up with you."
"So what am I supposed to do?" Xander growled.
"Stay where you are and call us after the storm. Merry Christmas." She hung up on him. This was just freaking great. He turned to see where the woman had gone and spotted her on the floor stacking up her photos, casting awe-filled glances his way. Fans.
Next, he dialed Rich's number by heart.
His agent answered on the second ring "Happy Holidays, this is Rich Daly."
"Hey Rich, it's me, Xander. I'm gonna be stuck in Alaska. Some blizzard is coming through and people are freaking out about it."
"Where are you at?" Rich asked, not seeming too concerned.
"A cottage using a lady's phone."
"She hot?"
Xander gazed down at the woman and studied her. Her black hair waved down her back and her thighs were plumper than what he typically went for, but he could still see them straddling his body while he had his way with her. "The possibility is there."
"Well, not all is lost then. You'll be stuck there for Christmas. Make the best of it and call me when your blizzard's over."
Xander clipped the phone shut and glanced at the woman. She must've been in shock or something because she still hadn't spoken a word. "Do you have a bathroom I can use?"
She pointed to a narrow walkway. Xander started forward, passing by a room that had a single bed in it. This wasn't going to be good at all. He took a step back for a double look when he realized there were rose petals all over the comforter. N
ot good at all.
THREE
Shalaine was panting heavily with all the raw emotions running through her head. Xander Christian had just walked into her cottage. Xander Christian was in the bathroom. She’d noticed the blood from his nose on his clothes, but that didn't take away from his captivating aqua eyes, his honey skin, and dark-chocolate hair. Even more embarrassing…he caught her watching one of his movies. She was devastated. Could this week get any worse? Her pictures of Nathan had been strolled out all over the shag rug and her face looked like punched hamburger. It always did when she cried. It was a sick joke that fate twisted them together here of all places.
Even more terrifying, it sounded like she'd be stuck with him until the storm cleared. Christmas with Xander Christian, every girl’s fantasy, yet she felt completely inadequate to form a single coherent sentence—one reason why she’d never interviewed him. She knew she'd just embarrass herself in his presence with the cameras rolling. Here, she'd already done that and not even spoken a word. She practiced her calm breathing. I can do this, I can do this. She heard the sink water cut off and panicked. He's coming out here! What do I do? What do I say? How's the weather? She frowned and glanced at all his movies scattered by the TV. Must hide those. I don't want to be labeled as a stalker-fan. Getting down on her hands and knees again, she pushed his films behind the classic movies, as far back into the TV stand as they would go
"Excuse me?"
She jumped and hit her head on the lip of the TV stand. Way to go, Shalaine! She moved back and turned to look at him, still not trusting herself to speak.
"I'm afraid I'm stuck here. Is your boyfriend or husband coming back soon? Maybe he can help me get the car out of the ditch." He seemed to be waiting for a reaction and when she didn't give one, he raised a questioning eyebrow, just like he did on camera when someone said something sexually suggestive.
"No, my boyfriend isn't coming and I'm not married." The thought of Nathan made her toss the remote a little too forcefully onto the couch.
"Ah. She speaks!" he teased as he walked to the front door, where he opened it against the whistling wind and pulled his bags in. Man, it was getting wild out there. A part of her was glad that Xander was safe inside instead of trying to drive in the storm.
"I speak…I speak quite well." She smiled at the fact that she didn't stutter…much.
"So, your boyfriend isn't coming?" He glanced at the spot in front of the fireplace where the photos were still somewhat hazardously scattered.
Was he deaf? "I said no and I don't have a boyfriend anymore." She huffed.
"Ah, so you're in the middle of a pity party," he said matter-of-factly while unzipping his bag.
"You're here now. Maybe I could bake a cake." She found it easier to talk to him now that he was irritating her. She didn't want to be that obvious with her emotions, but he'd caught her at her during a breakdown and it was the worst timing ever in the history of her career.
She’d just offered to fix Xander a cake while she was snotty and weeping over a breakup. This took on a whole new meaning of fan-girl dementia. What cake could she possibly cook? Red velvet, super moist from her tears, and red like her eyes? The whole idea was laughable and if Xander's concerned look in her direction was any indication, he seemed leery about her being so unhinged.
"I only rented this place for a week. Maybe we won't be stuck here the whole time." She could tell by his facial expression that he hoped the same. She couldn't blame him; at the moment she wouldn't want to be stuck with her either.
"That's what I'm hoping for." He grabbed a few toiletries and clothes and went back into the bathroom while she stumbled for something to say back.
That was a bit hurtful. She never would have expected him to be such a jerk in real life. His interviews and behind-the-scenes footage all put him as an easy, laid-back, sure-of-himself kind of guy. Why the curt undertones and snappy remarks? Either way, she could still kick him out; she rented this place, not him, and he seemed to be taking over as if it were his personal property. She crossed her arms over her chest after she turned the TV back on. Tennessee Rain picked up right where Carson was released from prison. A sweet rendition of a 1940s romantic classic tale and a far cry from the man in the bathroom. She hadn't missed the snarl when he glanced at the TV. It seemed the actor was his worst critic, despite winning Academy Awards for his role.
Screw him. She shouldn't have to be ashamed of watching his film. She was a movie reviewer, damn it, and he should be used to seeing his work everywhere he went.
A few moments later, after she’d submerged herself back into the film, Xander exited the bathroom wearing a fresh black dress shirt. Shalaine tried not to flush. He looked good in black, on and off screen. She sat on the floor but couldn't burn the photos in front of him, so she bundled them inside the book and pushed them into the corner between the TV and fireplace. They'd have to be put on hold for now. The actor sat on the couch and caused a whiff of cologne to tantalize her nose. It wasn't fair to feel the heat of the flames on her left and Xander on her right. She began to sweat. From the fire or X. Christian's presence, she wasn't sure. She tried to focus on the TV, but the way he lounged on the couch made her want to jump his bones. Hell, anything he did made her want to jump his bones.
"Why this film? Of all the work I've done, I hate this one the most. Bad plot, bad dialogue, and Sophie Jimenez would have played a better Julie than Yancey Otter," he said with a little heat in the words.
Without looking at him, Shalaine answered in defense of the film she'd given high marks to in the past, "The dialogue is perfect; it's set in Tennessee and not meant to be seen as something prim and proper. Yancey Otter was perfect for Julie. Sophie would have overshadowed everyone else in the film, including you.” She shot him a pointed look. “The compelling plot of the story is that you can always love someone, doesn't have to be the person you always thought it would be."
"Yeah, but it was Emily's sister writing him while he was in jail. She pretended the whole time to be Emily and when he found out, it wasn't a big deal. I thought it should've been. I didn't get the fact that he was so okay with it, but I played the part." He shrugged and glared back at Shalaine for her rebuttal.
At this point, she turned to face him fully. She would defend this movie to the grave. He'd gotten so many high marks for his portrayal of a love-struck convict. His badgering his best role shed more light on the Entertainment Billboard's post about Xander's self-destructive image. He was his worst enemy. Many knew that from the choices he made in his life as well as his career.
Still, she needed to set him straight. "Once he knew it wasn't Emily writing him, not her sister, he didn't care anymore. When he went to prison, Emily claimed she loved him but then married another man. Carson fell in love with Julie through her writing. It wasn't Emily's words he fell in love with. Emily had moved on without him, even after promising him she'd wait for him. Julie was the one who cared for him the most while he was incarcerated. Carson understood that and accepted it. Love has no boundaries." Shalaine said the last part in a whisper, but he heard her.
"Who are you?"
She had to look up at Xander, who watched her through narrowed eyes. "Shalaine Harper."
His dark eyebrows dipped low. He was obviously trying to place her name. Recognition dawned. "You work for The Review. I've read your articles. You're blinded by a lot of stuff."
Shalaine gave Xander her full angered gaze and crossed her arms. "Oh, like what?"
"Like the whole damn movie. The reviews you give are not that great and give false hope and prophecies of box-office hits."
Furious at his gall, she got up to go into the kitchen. She needed to get away from him before she threatened to throw him out. That would make her a horrible person, especially if he died of hypothermia. "I liked you better in your movies."
"Yeah, a lot of women say that," he quipped.
FOUR
Xander watched her walk into the small kitchen space. Her b
lack wavy hair tempted him to grab a handful of it and pull until she said his name in a gasping whisper. He didn't know why he was being such a jerk to her. She was attractive and he liked the feisty spark that he awoke in her when he criticized his work. Xander got the reasons why his character did what he did; he just wanted to get Shalaine riled up. He needed to stop pushing her though. They were going to be stuck together for a few days and he didn't want to wear out his welcome. He might as well make the best of it and have a little sexual fun in the process. The condoms in his bag weren't going to use themselves. It was Christmas, he was single, and she was single as well. Nothing like a good time to take their minds off being snowed in. A part of him sensed that Shalaine Harper wasn't that type of woman and that sex with her wouldn't be a one-time deal. That thought made him nervous. He never went back for seconds with random women and he certainly didn't stay any longer than one night. It would make the morning awkward if they wanted space away from each other.
The howling of the wind grew violent outside. The window panes rattled as the high whistle of air found small cracks. He stood, walked to the small window, and then pushed the heavy curtain aside to gaze out at the stretch of land. The snow fell fast and thick and he couldn't even see the tail end of the rental car sticking up anymore.
There was clattering in the kitchen and he twisted to look. The woman glanced at him from the doorway as she walked by but turned away to reach into a cabinet. He felt the heat of her angry gaze aimed right at him. Perhaps he shouldn't have badgered her articles. He'd read all the ones she wrote on his films and she always gave him high marks. The Review was a popular magazine about upcoming movies and personal interviews with celebrities, though he didn't recall her interviewing him. Xander thought back to make sure. He didn't want to seem foolish and have her correct him by saying that she'd interviewed him four times. However, he was certain he'd never seen her before; he'd remember those lips or that smooth cocoa skin.
The Christmas Key Page 2