Dreaming Of Your Love (Hollywood Legends #3)

by Mary J. Williams

  It hurt her heart. She loved her mother, but speaking with her was a chore of gargantuan proportions. Most of the time she tuned out the words, her mind drifting to mundane subjects like grocery lists and dentist appointments.

  This evening she thought about Colt. Something almost happened. He made her forget herself—something she never did. Her mother’s phone calls were painful, but, for once, her timing had been flawless. It stopped her from making a big mistake.

  An hour later, her mother finally ran down. The brief lull allowed Sable to ask the question she most wanted answered.

  “Is Dad there?”

  “Is he ever?” Iris reserved that shade of bitterness for her husband. “I had hoped when we settled here in Florida that I would see more of him. What a pipe dream that was. He’s taken up golf. Can you imagine?”

  Sable knew it wouldn’t do any good, but she had to try.

  “That sounds like something you could do together.” As far as Sable knew, the last thing her parents did as a couple involved her conception. “A little fresh air and sunshine? It might do you good.”

  “Me? In the sun? Hello, skin cancer. Honestly, Sable. You have no consideration for me.”

  “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, you were not.” Iris sighed. “I have to go. Wheel of Fortune is starting.”

  “Mom. Tell Dad to call me.” Sable always asked. Almost two years and still no luck.

  “If I ever see him. Take care, baby.”

  “You too.”

  Sable headed for the bathroom for a much-needed shower. Speaking with her mother wore her out. She had completed twenty-mile hikes in full gear that left her with more energy. Right now, nothing sounded better than hot water and blessed silence.

  She stepped into the newly remodeled room and briefly wondered if a bathroom could bring on a religious experience. Because Sable swore she heard angels singing.

  “Hello, gorgeous.”

  Reverently, Sable ran her hand over the rim of the beautiful jetted tub. Grinning, and feeling her spirits rise, she turned on the taps. Oh, blessed water pressure. In the blink of an eye, she was chin deep and halfway to nirvana.

  Thirty minutes of alone time, plus bubbling water that relaxed every muscle in her body, and Sable felt like herself again.

  She quickly dried her body with what had to be the softest towel ever created. Gray? Who owned gray towels? Colton Landis. Sable didn’t know if he chose the dark slate color, or it was someone else’s influence, but it worked. Smiling, she briefly considered slipping one in her suitcase before she headed home. It wasn’t going to happen. Still, the silly thought banished the last bit of lingering sadness.

  Sable opened her suitcases and removed a jar of body cream. It was a necessity, not a luxury. No matter where she went, Afghanistan or Miami Beach, she always carried lotion.

  She wasn’t a snob. High end or drugstore brand, Sable didn’t care. She learned early on that the desert played havoc with your skin. She slathered it on her body after every shower. The result? Soft and smooth. Not like a baby’s butt. Like a woman.

  It didn’t take her long to transfer her things into the outrageous walk-in closet. She didn’t know where the extra space had come from, but she swore it was twice as large as before.

  Great for an extensive wardrobe. Something that, by no stretch of the imagination, described Sable’s clothing. Perfectly adequate. She wouldn’t embarrass herself, no matter the situation.

  Besides, every piece was hers. Paid for by the sweat of her brow, so to speak.

  Sable stood back and surveyed the closet. Her clothes barely filled a quarter of the area. Her underwear and various sundry items occupied the top two drawers of the polished mahogany bureau. Plenty of room for the shopping she wasn’t going to do.

  Sable grinned. There would be no Pretty Woman moment for her—thank God.

  She glanced at her phone. Eleven-thirty? It was later than she thought, but her stomach didn’t care what time it was. It told her the little sandwiches and delicious cookies Callie had served with her famous lemonade were not going to get Sable to breakfast.

  The living room was dark. However, the light that shined through the windows was sufficient. Sable walked to the kitchen, enjoying the feel of the cool hardwood floor under her bare feet.

  The refrigerator was new. Again, Sable wondered why Colt felt the need to swap out something that hadn’t been more than a few years old.

  To make the place his own.

  Sable understood the impulse. She did the same thing. Always had. Army base to Army base. Whether she was a child trying to find a foothold in her ever-changing universe, or an adult, looking for something she couldn’t put a name to, Sable found little ways to personalize her space.

  Sub-Zero refrigerators and crazy-ass closets were not in her budget. However, the principle was the same. She recognized Colt’s need to transform the loft into his, not his brother’s, vision of home.

  “Holy crap.”

  Sable’s eyes widened. Now she knew why he needed such a big refrigerator.

  Who the hell did Colton plan on feeding?

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  Sable didn’t jump out of her skin. However, it was a near thing. Calmly, she set the jar of fancy stuffed olives onto the shelf. Instinct had her grabbing the first handy weapon. Good reflexes kept her from smashing it into Colt’s pretty face.

  “Do not sneak up on me.” She grabbed an apple before closing the door.

  “I didn’t sneak. See that chair?” Colt pointed to the one in the corner. “That is where I was when you came out of your bedroom. All you had to do was look.”

  “In the shadows of a darkened room. I’m not a raccoon.”

  “Point being, I was here first.”

  “The excuse of a man who grew up with siblings.”

  “It isn’t an excuse. It’s a fact.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Sable raised the apple to her mouth and took a bite. Was there anything better? Crisp and juicy, the sweet/tart flavor filled her mouth. “Yum. I’ll give you this. You know how to pick your produce.”

  “You’re feeling better.” Colt handed her a paper napkin.

  “A hot bath and a little perspective.” Sable wiped the juice from her lips. “They do wonders.”

  “You liked the tub? You’re the first to try it out.”

  Sable appreciated that Colt didn’t ask about the phone call.

  “On a scale of one to ten, I rate it a twenty. And the towels? Heaven.”

  “Mom will be happy to hear that.”

  “Callie? I figured you hired a professional decorator.”

  “When I have Mom? Not a chance.” Colt turned on the electric kettle. “She has impeccable taste.”

  “Is she the one who stocks your refrigerator?”

  “No.” Colt rubbed his neck, his expression sheepish. “The thing is.”

  “Yes?”

  “People like to do things for me.”

  Sable hid her smile. He was embarrassed. Interesting.

  “People?” She prodded.

  “Fine.” Colt pulled two mugs from the cupboard, slamming them onto the poured-concrete counter. Why they didn’t shatter, Sable couldn’t say. He put a tea bag in each one, then filled them with boiling water. “Women. They stock my refrigerator. They do my laundry. They clean my house.”

  “How does that work? Please. Tell me you haven’t given a bevy of beauties access to your home?” If that were the case, she needed to change his security immediately. Sable made a mental note. Why take any chances? Either way, the system needed to be updated.

  “Of course not.” Colt frowned. “My assistant, Nancy, handles letting them in and out. She stays the entire time and never leaves anyone alone.”

  Nancy Flicker. Sable remembered the name from the list of people on whom H&E had done extensive checks. She passed. Before Sable left Harper Falls, Alex had cleared everyone Colt dealt with on a regular basis

 
“Okay.”

  “Okay? That’s it?” Colt picked up the mugs and followed her into the living room.

  “What else is there to say? It isn’t any of my business. Or it wasn’t. I’m afraid that from now on, you’ll have to get things done the old-fashioned way. Do it yourself. Or hire somebody I can have checked out.”

  “Fine,” Colt huffed.

  “It is the way most of the world works.”

  Seeing his expression, Sable almost felt sorry for Colt. Up until now, he lived a life where tedious chores were miraculously done for him. She forced him to leave a little of his Peter Pan ways behind.

  “It made my life easier.”

  “You don’t need to apologize.”

  “I wasn’t.” Exactly. “I wanted you to understand why I have enough food to feed an army.”

  “An army? Speaking from experience, it’s close. But not quite.” Sable hid her grin behind another bite of the apple. “What happens to all that food? Wild parties? Please tell me you throw food orgies.”

  “Sure.” Relaxing into the banter, Colt sipped his tea. “Explain the difference between a food orgy and a regular one?”

  “You gorge yourself on food and sex.”

  “At the same time.”

  Sable gave him a well, duh look.

  “Ah. Sorry. I have to revise my answer. No food orgies. I donate it to a homeless shelter.”

  Of course, he does. Another piece to the Colton Landis puzzle. Gorgeous. Charming. Funny. She could add good guy. His one annoying quality? He had a few, but to her consternation, she couldn’t find anything that turned her off.

  His few flaws made him human. Sexy imperfections. She needed something, anything, to make him less attractive.

  “When was the last time you kicked a puppy?”

  “Never. Next question.”

  Sable’s eyes narrowed. He knew what she was doing. The smile on his mouth bordered on self-satisfied. Okay, she might be grasping at straws, but she could work with that.

  Smug didn’t look good on anybody. Though Colt almost pulled it off. Damn him.

  “Regular orgies?”

  “By your definition, how many people make up an orgy?”

  “Five.”

  “Not even a hesitation?” Colt sounded impressed. “Why five?”

  “Three people? There’s a name for that. Four? Not enough. What if two couples are having dinner. They imbibe in too much wine. Somebody pulls out a little weed. One or two joints later, things get funky. Not an orgy. Add the plumber who stopped by to unclog the sink? Wham, bam. That, my friend, is an orgy.”

  “Impressive.”

  “I read. A lot.”

  “So you’ve never…?”

  “Orgied?”

  “Is that a word?”

  “If it isn’t, it should be. And no, I never have. One on one only.”

  A few seconds ticked off the clock. Then a minute. Then two.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

  “I did.”

  Colt thought about that, then nodded. “Right. I became distracted. Five? You’re certain?”

  “Five,” Sable said emphatically. “Or more.”

  “Then no.”

  “Four?”

  “Nope?”

  “Three?”

  Sable saw it in his eyes. A twinkle in a sea of blue. Intrigued, she waited.

  “You want me to kiss and tell?”

  “Hell, yes. Change the names to protect the not so innocent.”

  Sable prepared herself to coax the story from him, but Colt surprised her.

  “It was a dark and stormy night.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Seriously. There isn’t a lot to do in Northern Alberta in the middle of January. My co-stars made the suggestion.” Colt laughed. “Boredom and chivalry got the better of me.”

  “Chivalry? Come on.”

  “I consider it rude to turn down not one, but two beautiful women.”

  Two women. Sable should have known.

  “What if it had been a woman and a man?”

  “Probably not.” Colt rubbed his chin—considering. “If no one objected, I would have watched.”

  Sable laughed. Somehow, their conversation about sex wasn’t the least bit sexy. She found herself relaxing and enjoying Colt’s company.

  “Is that the time?”

  “Two-thirty? I’ll be damned.”

  “Shouldn’t you get some sleep?”

  Colt started filming his movie tomorrow. No, today. She felt guilty keeping him up.

  “I don’t go in until one o’clock.”

  “Good.”

  “I want to apologize, Sable.”

  “Why?” Puzzled, she frowned.

  “I left my parents’ house filled with good intentions. We barely walked through the door, and I began flirting. Hard.”

  “And I flirted back.” Sable planned on doing this in the morning, but since Colt brought it up, now was as good a time as any. “That was on me, Colt. I crossed the line.”

  “We crossed it together.”

  “Fair enough.” Deliberately, Sable wrapped the apple core in her napkin and set it aside. It gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. “We can flirt, Colt, as long as it is without intent.”

  “Interesting choice of words.” Colt gathered their cups and her napkin and headed for the kitchen. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who needed to think things through. “I can’t make a pass unless I know you want to catch the ball.”

  “I don’t.” Liar.

  The look Colt gave her echoed her thoughts. Thankfully, he didn’t call her out.

  “How do you want to play this, Sable?”

  “Friends?”

  “Of course.”

  “Nothing more.”

  It wasn’t a question. Sable could tell Colt didn’t like her answer, but again, he kept his opinion to himself.

  “About sex.”

  That perked him up.

  “Yes?”

  “My role as your faux girlfriend doesn’t follow us behind closed doors. It isn’t necessary to remain celibate simply because I’m staying here.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Bring a woman home.” Sable almost choked on her words, but she managed to spit out a few more. “Going to her place isn’t practical. Though if you’d rather, we can work that out. I prefer you don’t meet in a public place. Hotels are harder to secure.”

  “I see. And you do what? Sit outside the door in case my partner’s motives are more nefarious than simply getting me off?”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Sable could hear the anger in his voice. In her opinion, it was unwarranted. “I can hear you from my room. Yell if you’re in trouble.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, Sable. You.” Colt moved until he stood inches away. His eyes didn’t twinkle. They glowed. “You’re a young, healthy woman. What about your needs?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Colt’s bark of laughter held no humor.

  “I want to work out and have breakfast at my parents’ place. We’ll leave at eight.”

  “Fine.”

  “And Sable?” Colt paused at his bedroom door.

  “Yes?”

  “When you’re taking care of yourself? Remember, I can do the same. Who knows? We might be taking care at the same time.”

  It took some effort, but Sable held in her groan until she was certain his door had closed.

  Bastard. Planting that image in her head was cruel. Inhuman. How was she expected to sleep?

  There was no help for it. Sable entered her room, tossed off her robe, and crawled into bed. Without hesitation, her hand slipped between her legs. It wasn’t a slow build.

  Fast. Intense.

  Sable closed her eyes as her orgasm hit. She couldn’t help herself. She wondered if across the loft, in his room, Colt did the same.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  COLT NEEDED TO
work off a lingering case of frustration—tinged with a touch of anger. Nate seemed like the perfect outlet. His brother was always up for some sparring. This morning it was their version of cage fighting. Without the cage. Or the anything goes rules.

  A few blows in, Nate figured out that Colt’s demeanor wasn’t as casual as his.

  “Watch the low blow. I need my balls in working order.”

  “I didn’t touch your precious balls.”

  They circled each other; the easy grin wiped from Nate’s face. If Colt wanted to play hard, so be it.

  “I wanted to put the warning out there. I would hate to beat up that movie star face. Wyatt wouldn’t be happy if his star shows up bloodied on the first day. However, touch the cojones, and you’re asking for it.”

  Colt glared at Nate. The look could intimidate most men. Nate, all six five, two hundred and twenty pounds of him, wasn’t impressed. Damn, he loved his brother. But being the youngest could be a pain in the ass. He would always be the baby. That was difficult to overcome.

  “Suck it up, Colt. It was one night. You’ve gone longer without sex.” Nate raised an eyebrow. “I hope.”

  “This isn’t about—” Colt growled. “Forget it. I need to get cleaned up. And pancakes. Many, many pancakes.”

  “Forget the carbs,” Nate called out, chuckling. “Remember. The camera adds ten pounds.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Nate’s laughter did nothing to help Colt’s mood. He hadn’t slept and the fact that Sable looked fresh as a daisy added to his frustration. She encouraged him to bring a woman home. Damn her. It was tempting to see how she would react if he did just that.

  Unfortunately, the only woman he wanted was out of his reach. For now. Colt wouldn’t give up that easily. He would be patient. When she caved, the reward would be all the sweeter.

  Colt hurried through his shower, throwing on jeans and a button-down shirt. He didn’t notice that the color matched his eyes. His mother gave it to him on his last birthday. She knew what he liked. Easy, yet stylish.

  A glance in the mirror told him he looked presentable. At the last second, he ran a hand through his damp hair. It tended to curl when wet, and a quick fluff gave him the perfectly tousled, I don’t give a shit, look that women loved and men tried to emulate.