by Janet Dailey
His gaze narrowed to bore relentlessly all the way to her soul. "Is that what you want?"
Bravado failed her, but she managed to hold on to her poise. "All I wanted was a quiet drink before dinner and a chance to relax. If you're finally satisfied, will you please leave?"
"I'm not going to let you sit here by yourself. Bring your sherry over to our table. We're going over tomorrow's schedule," Dane told her.
Sighing, Pet could see that she had about as much chance of persuading him to leave as she did of moving a mountain. If she couldn't move the mountain, the only alternative was to remove herself.
"You obviously didn't hear me. I said I wanted a quiet drink and a chance to relax. Neither would be possible in the middle of a technical discussion," she retorted, and opened her purse to take out the money for her drink and leave it on the table. "Would you please get out of my way so I can leave?"
"But you haven't had your drink." His gaze roamed over her face, stubbornly not moving until he found out her intentions.
"I'm taking it into the restaurant with me, surely it can't be a crime if a woman has a glass of sherry in the restaurant before dining alone?" Pet challenged.
"It might be a shame, but I don't think it's a crime," he agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly in amusement.
"Then would you mind getting up so I can leave?" she demanded in a voice that was growing steadily thinner with the strain of his nearness.
With the suggestion of a smile still playing at his mouth, Dane slid his brawny frame out of the booth and rolled effortlessly to his feet. The touch of his hand was pleasantly firm as he helped her out.
"We'll be playing today's tapes about an hour from now in one of the meeting rooms to make any last-minute changes. If you're through with dinner by then, you can join us." He didn't release his hold of her elbow even though she was standing and didn't require his assistance anymore.
His fingers transmitted the natural warmth generated by his body and sent it spreading up her arm. It made her flesh tingle quite pleasurably. Briefly, she was tempted by the prospect of spending more time in his company until she remembered the tapes they would be viewing. She had endured enough of his criticism for one day.
"Is that an order?" she questioned, turning to pick up her drink and thus forcing him to release her arm.
"No, you aren't required to attend." Something flickered in his look—displeasure, perhaps.
"Then I respectfully decline," Pet replied with faint mockery. "Excuse me."
Pausing long enough to inform the barmaid that she was taking her drink into the restaurant, she entered the dining room through the connecting door to the lounge. She did eat alone. It wasn't until the waiter brought her coffee that any of the crew arrived. Pet could have joined them, but there wasn't any point.
Too restless to return to her room, she wasn't in the mood for the kind of shoptalk the group would be having in the lounge, so she wandered outside to stroll around the pool area and watch the sunset from a lounge chair. Reentering the hotel, she stopped by the small gift shop and newsstand to look around.
Ruby Gale's face stared at her from the cover of a movie magazine. Curious, Pet leafed through the pages to find the article about the star. Several photographs of Ruby accompanied the write-up. One of them was a picture of the redhead and Dane Kingston lying side by side on a beach mat. Ruby Gale was wearing the scantiest bikini Pet had ever seen, but it wasn't the woman that riveted her attention.
It was Dane in his dark swimming trunks. Lean and powerful muscles rippled across his chest and shoulders and held his stomach flat. The implied strength in the sinewed columns of his legs reminded Pet of nude sculptures she had seen of Greek gods. The tight-fitting material of his swimming trunks molded his narrow hips, sending her blood pounding with its emphasis of his virile, male shape.
She quickly studied his expression. He wasn't smiling, but there was a self-satisfied look about him that indicated just as plainly that he was enjoying himself. And the lazy way his eyes were lingering on the woman beside him indicated that she was the cause of his pleasure.
Irritated at herself for becoming so absorbed in the photograph of him, Pet abruptly closed the magazine and set it back on the shelf. She was adult, no longer given to crushes on men who were unattainable. But was he unattainable, a little voice argued. She ignored the question. That kind of thinking would ultimately bring her grief. Before leaving, she bought a pack of cigarettes and promised herself she'd stop smoking soon.
Crossing the lobby, she turned down the main corridor of the hotel. Joe Wiles walked out of a meeting room, leaving the door ajar, and started down the hall ahead of her. Pet glanced in the room as she went by, but there was only a member of the hotel staff inside, emptying ashtrays and carrying away the coffee cups. She quickened her steps to catch up with the heavyset man.
"How did the meeting go?" she asked.
The carpeted hallway had muffled her footsteps. Joe's balding head turned with a jerk at her question.
"You startled me," he accused without anger.
"Sorry. Did you make many changes after you saw the tapes?" She walked with him. For the time being, they were both going in the same direction.
"Surprisingly, very few, and most of those were minor," he replied. "Audio has some problems that they have to correct, but Dane was satisfied with the video. He's going to experiment with the switcher tomorrow, try for some different effects on the solo numbers."
"But it looked good?" Pet persisted. It didn't seem possible that Dane was as satisfied with the results as Joe implied.
"Of course. Did you think it wouldn't?" His smile was a little confused. "It will be even better tomorrow. Having everyone in costume will really make a difference in the finished product."
"Yes, I know it will," she agreed absently.
"What time does the dining room close?" Joe glanced at his watch. "I haven't eaten yet and I'm starved."
"I think they stop serving at eleven."
"I'd better hurry." He raised an eyebrow. "I'd like at least to wash and change my shirt before I eat."
They reached the point where the corridor branched into two separate halls. Pet turned left. "I'll see you in the morning, Joe."
"Good night." He waved,
Arriving at the door to her room, she searched through the bottom of her bag for the key. Just as she found it, the door opened in the room directly opposite the hall from hers, and Dane stepped out.
"Is that your room?" Pet blurted in surprise.
"Yes, conveniently located to keep an eye on you." The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile.
She hadn't expected him to admit such a thing. His frankness irritated her. She turned to unlock her door.
"As you can see, I'm retiring for the night—all alone—without any of the boys tagging after me. You don't have to worry about checking on me tonight."
"I'm not checking on you," Dane chuckled. "It's purely coincidence that my room is across the hall."
Instead of feeling better, she felt worse. She had been foolish to believe he was so concerned about her that he was virtually standing guard over her. To add to her difficulties, the lock was being its usual stubborn self and resisting her attempts to turn the key. Dane was watching her struggle with it, which made Pet even more uncomfortable.
She tried to urge him on his way. "If you're going to the dining room to eat, you'd better hurry. I think they stop serving at eleven."
"I'm not on my way to the restaurant." He crossed the hall. "Give me the key. There's a trick to unlocking hotel doors."
It was simpler to hand him the key than to argue, so she did. "Have you had dinner already?" she frowned. "I thought the meeting finished only a little while ago. I just met Joe in the hall."
"It just broke up," he agreed, and inserted the key in the lock again. "And no, I haven't had dinner."
She studied his bent head and the curling thickness of his dark brown hair, and her hands itc
hed to run their fingers through his hair and feel those vigorous strands beneath her palls. She was shaken by the force of that unbidden desire. She clenched her hands tightly around her bag in case she unconsciously gave in to it.
"You have to eat." She tried to concentrate on the subject. "It isn't healthy to skip meals."
With a deft twist of his wrist he turned the key in the lock and pushed her door open. "Don't worry. I'll have room service send a sandwich or something up to the suite," he promised smoothly as he turned to face her.
"The suite?" she repeated. Separated from him by only a few feet, she noticed the shadows along his cheeks. The lights overhead were bright, clearly illuminating his rugged features. The darkness was obviously caused by a fast-growing beard.
Her thoughts returned to the implication of his statement. "Then you're on your way to Miss Gale's hotel."
"Yes," he nodded, and moved out of her doorway.
"At this hour?" She said exactly what was on her mind and instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry, it's really none of my business."
"It isn't," Dane agreed, but he regarded her with lazy indulgence rather than anger. "After viewing the tapes tonight, I have a couple of things I want to suggest to her before tomorrow's dress rehearsal and taping."
"You don't have to explain to me." Pet didn't want him lying and making up excuses. Surely he realized that she had heard the gossip about the torrid affair he was having with Ruby Gale!
She had taken one step across the threshold into her room when his finger touched her chin and turned her head to look at him.
"Don't I?" he queried softly.
He was suddenly very close. His rough male features seemed to fill her vision, leaving room for nothing else. Alarm fluttered her pulse, sending danger signals through her veins. She didn't dare believe what her senses were saying. Dane was on his way to see Ruby Gale. She mustn't forget that, or that photograph of the two of them in the magazine.
"Don't you think you should shave first?" she suggested with an admirable degree of calm.
His hand was removed from her chin to rub his cheek. The action produced a faint rasping sound of beard stubble scraping across his skin. He seemed to have been unaware of the growth until she called his attention to it.
"Does it bother you if a man shows up to see you with a five o'clock shadow?" he asked.
"It doesn't bother me," she shrugged. "But I'm not Miss Gale."
"No, you aren't." When he took a step forward, Pet took one backwards and bumped against the door. "Your key."
She felt foolish for retreating like a timid schoolgirl before her first kiss when she saw the room key in his hand. Her fingers loosened their death grip on her handbag to reach for it but they weren't given the chance to take it from him, because the key was forgotten entirely as he lowered his mouth onto hers, blotting out everything.
A splintering shock held her motionless until the warm taste of his mouth melted her stiffness. She responded easily to the persuasive ardor of his kiss, a glow spreading through her veins. There was even pleasure in the light scrape of his beard against her soft skin. Desire grew within her to deepen the kiss, to realize the potential delirium that it promised.
Something cold and flat slipped inside her blouse where the top set of buttons was unfastened. Her skin shrank from the contact, but couldn't elude it. It took her a dazed second to identify the object as a metal key. The discovery was followed close on the heels by the realization that Dane's fingers were guiding it inside the left under cup of her bra.
Before she could protest his flagrantly intimate action, Dane was lifting his head and withdrawing his hand from inside her blouse. She tried to look indignant, but she wasn't very successful—the smoldering gleam in his dark eyes told her so.
As if to prove how completely within his spell she was, he circled her left breast with his large hand. The possession was light, in no way forcing her to endure his caress, while claiming his right to do so.
"Now you've finally pleased me, Pet," he murmured in a voice that nearly melted her knees. "Get a good night's Sleep, hmm?"
While she was still trying to surface, he was moving away from her and striding down the hall. In a wonderful kind of daze she stepped the rest of the way into her room and closed the door, trying to figure out how it had all happened and what it meant.
The first was easy because she recalled vividly the comment she had made in the bar that she couldn't please him. She remembered that Dane had asked if she wanted to. If that kiss was a sample, she definitely wanted to please him.
But why had he kissed her? Because she was an attractive woman and willing to be kissed? There was nothing wrong with that: it was a normal, healthy reaction. Except that Pet hoped it was more than that. She didn't like to consider the possibility that it might never happen again.
Sighing, she turned to bolt and latch the door. The action caused the room key to jab its point into the soft curve of her breast. She reached inside her blouse to take it out and return it to its rightful place in her handbag.
Chapter Five
THE NEXT MORNING it was work as usual, with a meeting scheduled first thing to go over the few changes. Other than a vague smile and nod in her direction, Dane paid no more attention to Pet than to any other member of the crew. She tried to tell herself that she wasn't disappointed, that she hadn't really expected anything different.
In an effort to show she was heart-whole and carefree, Pet threw herself into her job and worked to establish the old camaraderie with the boys. She had kissed men before without it meaning anything and forgotten it the next day. She could do so again.
It was later in the morning before they were ready to actually begin taping the dress rehearsal. The production crew had plenty to do to keep busy while the cast spent their time in Makeup and Wardrobe.
All the performers were finally on stage for the opening number except for the star, Ruby Gale. When she walked out to take her position, Pet gave an audible gasp at the gown the redhead was wearing. At first glance it didn't appear to have any sides. She stared to see why it didn't flap open and that was when she noticed the flesh-colored netting at the sides.
An assortment of reactions came over her headset from the male members of the production crew. They ranged from a breathless "Wow!" to "Sweet momma!" Amusement deepened the corners of her mouth and sent a sparkle of laughter into her green eyes.
"If I didn't know better, gang," Pet murmured teasingly into the small microphone, "I'd swear I was receiving an obscene phone call, with all this heavy breathing that's going on!"
"What's keeping that dress on?" Lon groaned.
"It must be glued." Charlie made a choked guess.
"It's sheer willpower, fellas," Pet teased, not explaining that the three-inch-wide strip of skin they saw on either side was not bare flesh but covered with netting.
Dane's voice briskly inserted itself. "Cut the chatter," he ordered, "Get the white boards up. I want color checks on these cameras again. Joe, I'm getting a hot spot on the vocal group. What's wrong?"
His briskness snapped them into action. But it didn't end the speculation or the avid interest in the daring gown and the stunning creature wearing it. Absent comments continued to find their way into the otherwise technical communication over the headset.
"If it's glued on, what do you suppose is going to happen if she starts perspiring?" Charlie wondered. "Do you think it will stay on? Will the glue hold?"
"Oh, Joe, turn up the lights and bake this stage," Lon pleaded. "Turn this into a sweat bath."
"Then bring in the fans," Andy inserted.
"All this panting is going to melt my earphones, guys," Pet warned on an impish note.
"I said cut the chatter, Wallis!" Dane barked in her ear.
It didn't matter that he was out in the large van where she couldn't see him. A mental image of him sprang into her mind—his mouth hard and tight-lipped and his dark eyes blazing. Pet was stung by the injustice of being si
ngled out by his barbed tongue.
"Why pick on me?" she griped to herself, but forgot to push the highly sensitive microphone away from her lips. "I'm just about the only one whose eyes haven't popped out of his head."
Since she hadn't intended her comment to be heard by anyone, she visibly jerked when Dane answered her question. "That is exactly the reason. The others can't help themselves, but you can, Wallis. So straighten up!"
"Yes, sir! Anything you say, sir!" She masked her angry defiance with exaggerated obedience that left no one in doubt of her temper.
Any question about what last night's kiss might have meant no longer existed. As far as Pet was concerned, the meaning was clear: it had been nothing more than a passing whim. Dane was going to be hard and rough on her today to make sure she understood that and didn't get any ideas. The message was loud and clear. Pet was neither deaf nor stupid. After all, she hadn't really thought she could successfully compete with that red-haired sex goddess on stage. And she hadn't forgotten that Dane had been with Ruby Gale after he had left her.
It was another ten minutes before the floor director told the performers to take their positions on stage for the opening number. When Dane informed the crew that the tape was rolling, Claude asked for quiet and began the countdown: "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…" He stopped there and continued it with his fingers, so his voice wouldn't be picked up on tape.
All that was mainly for the performers' benefit. Dane was issuing his own instructions prior to that. "Do you remember the sequence of the opening number, Wallis? A close-up frame of Ruby. Open it when I tell you and the way I tell you or I'll strangle you with my bare hands," he warned, and began counting. "Ten, nine, eight…" It was his countdown that the floor director repeated.
So it began. If Pet thought he had been demanding the day before, it was mild compared to the relentless way he drove the crew today. The slightest flaw or imperfection in a shot drew sharp and immediate criticism. Although everyone felt the razor edge of his tongue at some point, the majority of his censure seemed to go to Pet.