by Kim Lawrence
‘How did you get the job?’
‘You mean did I sleep with the producer? Or would it bother you more if it was the director?’
Anger flashed in her sister’s eyes, but Lindy didn’t back down; she stared calmly back. Something was clearly bothering Hope, who normally had a sunny disposition.
‘I meant, how did you get the job?’
‘If you must know, I did a test for a part in Shadow of Her Smile,’ Hope said more coolly, referring to the previous year’s summer box-office hit which Lloyd Elliot had produced and directed. ‘I didn’t get it, but Lloyd remembered me, and when he got involved in the project with Sam he mentioned my name. I did a test that blew Sam’s mind,’ she said with engaging frankness. ‘Before you say it, yes, I am grateful to Lloyd but not that grateful.’
‘Something’s going on.’
‘Just forget it, Lindy, forget it,’ Hope pleaded wearily.
Lindy sighed. What choice did she have? she thought, giving a philosophical shrug. ‘Is the food always this good?’ She pushed aside the empty plate before she got to her feet. The catering trailer appeared to produce vast quantities of food all day. ‘I’ll be the size of a house if I go on like this.’
‘Not with your metabolic rate,’ Hope scoffed. ‘It’s my hips that doughnuts love.’ She gave a sigh before placing her hands on said luscious curves. ‘Incidentally, I think Sam has sent out the cavalry to find you.’
‘I wasn’t hiding,’ Lindy observed. Wasn’t there going to be a second of her day when the darned man wasn’t brought into the conversation?
‘Are you quite sure about that?’ Hope gave a little smile which set Lindy’s teeth on edge. ‘I hope you and Sam didn’t miss me too much…?’
Lindy kept her face placid. ‘I can’t speak for him but, quite frankly, I did. I could have done with some hand-holding to break the ice.’
The spikiness evaporated instantly from her sister’s lovely face. ‘Of course you did,’ she said with contrition. ‘I know I’ve left you to sink or swim, but I can’t imagine you drowning.’
For some reason the colour of Sam Rourke’s eyes popped into Lindy’s head. She flicked her ponytail with her fingers and banished the recollection of vivid blue. The most a girl could hope for would be to tread water when she looked into those sinful orbs.
‘It’s mostly high-tension monotony really,’ Hope soothed. ‘There’s no reason to feel intimidated. Sam’s pretty demanding, but he doesn’t stamp around ranting—he’s much too subtle for that,’ she reflected drily. ‘I suspect he’ll employ whatever tactics he sees fit to drag what he wants out of us. He obviously has a clear mental image of how things should be done, but he’s quite willing to listen to ideas, up to a point. He’s incredibly devious.’ She sounded quite admiring about that.
‘The crew seem to be high-spirited,’ Lindy said. If the couple of hours she’d spent watching that morning were anything to go by, that was an understatement.
‘The humour can get pretty vicious at times, not to mention X-rated,’ Hope agreed. ‘And, no matter what everyone thinks, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the only one not having a fling. If a fraction of what’s going on behind the cameras was to end up on film the censors would blow a fuse! So don’t say I didn’t warn you!’
‘Does ‘‘everyone’’ include Sam?’ She couldn’t match Hope’s acting ability and the question didn’t quite achieve casualness. The knowing look her sister cast her made Lindy want to moan. For someone who wanted to emphasise she wasn’t interested, that had been a foolish thing to say.
‘It rather depends on who you listen to,’ Hope responded slowly. ‘Magda, the one in Make-Up—but then you wouldn’t know her, would you?’ she said, her eyes skimming her sister’s pale features.
Lindy’s hand went self-consciously to her scraped-back hair. ‘I’ll leave the glamour to you.’
‘Magda in Make-Up, tall, blonde…’
‘Who isn’t here?’ Lindy felt an instant, deep antipathy to this unknown female.
‘Touchy, aren’t we?’ Hope’s curving dark eyebrows shot upwards. ‘As I was saying, she is sort of dropping strong hints that the thing she had once with Sam has risen phoenix-like from the ashes. Personally, I think it’s wishful thinking, but you never know… I think he’s like me—he has something to prove and not much energy left over to play.’
‘Perhaps that’s what he wants everyone to think,’ Lindy observed sourly.
Hope regarded her sister thoughtfully for a moment, a frown creasing her brow. ‘Sam seems to have got under your skin—which is nothing to do with me,’ she added hastily. ‘But you do realise that you’re going to be working mostly with him? I mean, he is the doctor of the piece and we’re about to shoot the medical scenes. You’re literally going to be walking him through those shots.’
‘I’ll cope,’ Lindy replied with a confidence she was far from feeling.
In the event, anticipation turned out to be a lot more gruelling than the real thing. Sam was a quick learner and his astute questions and eye for detail made her task a lot easier. Watching him deal with a fictional medical emergency, she found herself wishing she had looked half as confident when she had first donned a white coat.
At the end of her first day Lindy felt exhausted, but fairly satisfied that she hadn’t completely messed up. Her sister emerged from her trailer, having discarded the long, floaty floral dresses her character favoured for knee-length khaki shorts, a cropped tee shirt and boots that had a few miles on the clock. A fashion disaster, but Hope could have made bin-liners the height of fashion, should she have felt the inclination, Lindy reflected a shade wistfully. To Lindy’s amusement, Hope appeared oblivious to the covertly lustful looks that she drew as they walked together to Hope’s car.
After a couple of minutes of deep abstraction Hope gave a sudden exclamation. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, emerging from the distracted trance. ‘I haven’t asked you how it went. It’s really difficult to throw off the part. The character sort of gets under your skin,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘Everything’s so slow, it’s hard sometimes to maintain a level of concentration, and just as hard to let go once you’ve worked yourself into it.’
‘I understand—or at least I think I do,’ Lindy said in the interests of accuracy. ‘It wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined.’ She stopped as they reached Hope’s car. To her dismay, Lloyd Elliot was leaning against the bonnet, in deep conversation with Sam.
The mention of distribution runs and press releases meant little to Lindy, but she did notice that when Sam disagreed on some point the other man listened and eventually nodded. Lloyd Elliot was one of the most important men in the industry and he obviously respected Sam Rourke. Lindy found she wasn’t surprised. Her own opinion that Sam was a shallow piece of beef cake had already been seriously eroded.
‘Hope.’ Lloyd Elliot cut short his conversation as he caught sight of her sister. ‘I was hoping we could get together tonight?’ There was more apology than lover-like promise in his voice.
Hope gave a deep sigh. ‘Tonight? I’ve not spent any time with Lindy yet.’ She regarded him reproachfully.
‘I wouldn’t ask if…’
Hope pressed her fingertips together and raised them to her lips. ‘OK,’ she said tightly. ‘Sorry, Lindy.’ She summoned a tight smile for her sister. ‘Take my car.’ She handed Lindy the keys from her pocket.
Lindy shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. The more she tried to figure out the relationship between her sister and this man, the more mystified she became.
‘See you later,’ Hope said, linking her arm through Lloyd’s as a group of technicians went past. It was almost as if, Lindy thought, her bewilderment deepening, she wanted them to think that she and Lloyd were an item. It made no sense.
She shook her head in frustration and sensed Sam’s silent regard. ‘Do you know what’s going on?’ she demanded.
‘Leave me out of this,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘Hold up a minut
e, Will!’ He waved towards the burly figure of Will Gibson, the director of photography. Lindy had already been introduced to the multi-Oscar-winning technician. ‘We need to discuss that helicopter shot of Hope on the rocks tomorrow. You’ve met Rosalind?’
‘Met her! I’ve fallen passionately in love with the lady.’ Will Gibson worked hard to maintain his hell-raising image, but Lindy thought that underneath he was probably rather nice.
‘I meet his two criteria of desirability,’ Lindy said calmly. Both men were looking at her. ‘I’ve a pulse and I’m female. So I’ve tried not to be too overcome by the honour.’
‘Old son,’ Will said, with a delighted chuckle, ‘this one’s not stupid.’
Sam shot her a glance, his eyes meshing with hers for a long, silent moment. ‘I’d noticed,’ he drawled. ‘Can you find your way back?’ he said doubtfully. ‘I’ll be tied up here for another couple of hours.’
It was the first time all day he’d looked at her in a less than impersonal manner and, to her dismay, Lindy felt her body react forcibly to the fact.
‘I’ve an excellent sense of direction,’ she assured him crisply. At least her voice wasn’t fluttering as feebly as her pulse rate. Years of practice at sounding cool and in control in the midst of confusion stood her in good stead.
Sam raised one eyebrow sceptically, but didn’t make an issue of the matter as she climbed into Hope’s car.
‘I take it you’ve put in your order for a rough sea tomorrow?’ Will said. ‘Are you with us?’ he asked as his director’s attention remained focused on the dust cloud thrown up by the retreating vehicle’s wheels.
Sam turned his head and gave the older man a grim glare that cut short any further shrewd and probably lewd comments Will had been about to make.
‘The meteorological guys are promising us a low tomorrow and some hefty winds,’ he replied. ‘Not bad enough to keep the helicopter grounded, but enough to give us a bleak, stormy backdrop. The sea should look like a black devil’s cauldron. I want the shot to cut from Hope to me disposing of the body, and end with Hope just an indistinguishable speck on the rock. There’s no escape, danger on all sides. I want everyone to feel her isolation.’
Will’s beady eyes took on a gleam of professional interest, but Sam didn’t notice.
‘She’s doomed,’ he intoned.
‘You’ve got it in one.’ Sam felt an intense surge of irritation that Rosalind kept disrupting his flow of thoughts. Why did she keep intruding? He was beginning to suspect that treating her impersonally all day hadn’t really achieved his purpose. In fact, his self-imposed restraint had only managed to draw attention to her. He had given her a hard ride today and she’d risen to the challenge damned well, he decided with admiration.
He gave himself a mental shake and concentrated on what Will was saying. On the whole, the elements were a lot more predictable than his own emotions just now!
The sunken Jacuzzi could have happily housed a soccer team. Alone, Lindy lay back and studied the seascape spread before her. She’d opened the sliding doors to let the distant sound of the waves into the room. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the soothing murmur and let the tension ease its way from her spine.
She tried to banish all thoughts of Sam from her mind, but this was difficult to achieve. Impossible to achieve, to be totally accurate. She had to settle for cursing the fates that had brought her into his orbit. The hot water was bliss, though, and she lazily rubbed with her toes the area on her calf where she’d been bitten by mosquitoes. Extending her leg from the water, she regarded the reddened area with a frown.
‘You could do with something on those. There’s some antihistamine cream in the bathroom.’
Lindy let out a startled shriek. ‘How long have you been there?’ she asked, after she’d thrashed about inelegantly in the water in a most undignified manner. ‘How dare you sneak up on me?’ she continued accusingly.
Sam, who was sprawled in a deep rattan chair piled high with ethnic printed cushions, just raised one brow, a very eloquent brow. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ he said quietly. His deep blue eyes were gazing with disturbing intensity at her face.
Lindy felt odd, trembling sensations sliding through her body and she gave a short laugh. He was aiming for the impossible. Somehow she had to come to terms with the fact that this man would always disturb her!
‘Didn’t anyone warn you to use insect repellent?’
‘I didn’t think they’d get to unexposed bits.’
‘Very persistent little brutes. If you have any trouble reaching the parts—no, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea,’ he finished, giving a wry grin.
Lindy listened to his deep, attractive voice and suddenly wondered what she’d say if he suggested sharing the tub. The thought of his big muscular body, slick with water and within almost obligatory touching distance, made her go hot. Her chest felt tight, as if she couldn’t breathe, and the tension in the room almost crackled with high-voltage tension.
‘That wouldn’t be such a good idea either.’ His dryas-dust tone sliced through the atmosphere.
Her eyelids, which had been drooping over narrowed eyes, suddenly opened wide, and she let out a cry as she bit the tip of her tongue which had been tracing the outline of her dry lips. Was I really doing anything so blatant? she wondered with horror. She could taste the tang of blood on her tongue. He couldn’t possibly know what she’d been thinking! Could he? Mortification blasted her.
‘I was thinking the same thing,’ he said, by way of explanation. Or was it to soften her humiliation?
‘I don’t know how you can carry on a conversation when I’m not saying anything.’ An extra-fresh gust of wind made her shiver and lower her shoulders beneath the water.
Sam got up and closed the deck door. ‘Body language can be pretty eloquent,’ he said, looking down at her from his superior vantage point. ‘Do you want a drink?’ he asked abruptly, removing his gaze from her. ‘Beer, wine…?’
‘I’ll have a beer if there’s one going,’ she replied. Her face was burning as she imagined just what her body had been saying.
His absence gave her the opportunity to get out of the tub. She swathed herself in an ankle-length towelling robe. To think she’d actually toyed with the idea of taking a dip nude! Considering how vulnerable she’d felt in the black one-piece swimsuit she’d elected to wear, it didn’t bear thinking about. She was tying the belt very firmly around her waist when Sam returned, carrying two glasses.
‘False security, Rosalind,’ he murmured, placing the glasses on a ceramic-topped table. He reached towards her and gave the cord a sharp tug. The robe fell open and she gave a startled gasp. ‘It’s easy to see you were never a Boy Scout,’ he chided as his fingers deftly reknotted the tie firmly about her middle. Fingers looped in the belt, he gave a gentle jerk that brought her closer to him. ‘Aren’t you going to say thank you?’
She slowly raised her eyes to his face. The frightening sensation of losing control of the situation deepened as she absorbed the harsh tension in his expression and the searing heat that glittered in his eyes.
‘You’re very good…at kn-knots.’ It was a distinct possibility that, if he let go, she’d just fold up and collapse in a heap at his feet. I’m feeble, she told herself—feeble-minded and pathetic!
‘I do a lot of messing around in boats. It’s a skill that comes in handy. Did you know you talk to yourself?’ The sudden sharp query made her blink.
‘What?’
‘When I came in you were talking to yourself.’
Alarm gave her knees the strength to take her weight. Her chin took on a defensive angle and she pulled as far away from him as his thumbs, hooked in the fabric of her belt, would permit.
‘I was not!’
‘Nothing very intelligible, and it was interspersed with a lot of sighing. Does ‘‘Stupid, stupid, stupid’’ sound at all familiar?’ He watched the tell-tale colour wash over her skin and his lips curved in a taunting s
mile. ‘After ‘‘Damn and blast him to hell!’’ you stayed under water so long I was about to leap in and pull you out.’
‘How dare you spy on me? You’re nothing but a disgusting peeping Tom.’ She’d been so absorbed by her own thoughts that not only had she not been aware she hadn’t been alone, she hadn’t known she’d voiced her thoughts out loud.
‘Tell me, Rosalind, was I wrong to take your curses personally?’
Throat dry and her body racked with weak longing, she shook her head defiantly.
‘Well, if it’s any comfort, I feel as if I’m exactly where you verbally confined me. To be frank…’
‘I’m not sure I can take frank,’ she admitted quickly. Why on earth couldn’t this man avoid delicate subjects and fudge the issue like anyone normal? It was her own response to the whole question of sex being reopened that she wanted to avoid. Painful though this frustration was, she at least had her self-respect and pride. That was very important to Lindy; she’d lost both once and had vowed never to be in that situation again.
‘I’m not sure I can take much more of this situation,’ he said abruptly. The raw quality that throbbed in his deep voice made her fingers curl into tight fists. ‘I don’t know what it is about you.’ He frowned deeply as he examined her upturned features, as if fascinated by the pale purity of her delicate bone structure. She saw the muscles in his brown neck ripple as he swallowed hard.
‘As I’m not your type…’
‘I don’t have a type,’ he said impatiently.
‘You said…’ she persisted huffily.
‘I talk garbage.’
She was going to remember he’d said that, but right now the urgency in his voice was holding her complete attention.
‘Will you just listen for a second? Sexual attraction isn’t something you can analyse, but whatever the formula is—we have it,’ he said bluntly.
‘You take an awful lot for granted.’ It would have been much easier to sound scathing if she could have believed this was all an act, one he’d used before, but there was nothing polished about his delivery. It looked suspiciously as if he really was finding the situation as hard as she was.