by Witt, L. A.
The resignation in her voice made my gut clench with sympathy. I’d been there.
“Anyway.” She rolled her shoulders and pushed out a breath. “It’s done for the day. I’ll deal with it tonight.”
I bit my tongue. It wasn’t my place to suggest that if her relationship had come down to something that had to be “dealt with,” perhaps the best thing for her sanity was to let it go and move on. God knew I’d lost a few too many years of my life to hanging on to something that should’ve ended sooner.
But their counselor was probably giving them exercises and role plays and God knew what else. “Homework” as mine had always called it, adding that we were to report back with our results next week. And the week after. And the week after that.
I gripped the wheel a little tighter. And people wondered why I had no desire to go anywhere near a counselor again.
Well, aside from one in particular.
But I didn’t foresee much talking with that one.
Chapter 4
Anna returned to the set after the appointment, so of course I went with her. She wasn’t directing this episode, but she needed to speak to one of the producers and probably keep someone from killing someone else. Business as usual on a film set, it seemed—creative differences didn’t mix well with big budgets and bigger egos.
She usually held her meetings in her office, which was in the trailer beside the soundstage, but today, she was back and forth from there to the set. When she was in her office, I stayed outside. When she was in the soundstage, I stayed close, but out of the way.
After the first of what promised to be many meetings, I followed Anna toward the soundstage. It was just as well I had several inches on her—when she was on a mission, she walked fast. Small wonder she and Leigh usually wound up bickering when they were out together. Leigh was only an inch or so taller and struggled to keep up. And Anna wasn’t thrilled when she had to fall back for anyone—even Leigh—to stay with her.
For me, though, it wasn’t a big deal.
Inside the soundstage, while Anna talked with another producer and the director of the current episode, I joined Alfonse—Levi and Carter’s hulking bodyguard—against the back wall of the soundstage where he and I usually sat. From here, we weren’t underfoot, but we still had a panoramic view of the set and could see all entrances and exits. Security around the sets had gotten tighter these days since Anna wasn’t the only one whose fans occasionally had “boundary issues,” so even on days when there were tours or visitors, our presence was pretty redundant.
At the edge of the set, Levi and Carter were hanging out with some of the other actors. It never ceased to amuse me, watching the actors kicking back between takes. They were dirty, bloody, and two of them looked like they belonged on The Walking Dead or something, but they all sipped coffee and chatted like nothing was out of the ordinary. It was especially amusing because Levi was the type to get panicky and protective if Carter had so much as a hangnail, and heaven help anyone who fucked with Carter, but the two of them could casually shoot the breeze without even noticing the nasty “gash” on Carter’s forehead or the “bullet hole” in his shoulder.
I turned to Alfonse. “So is Levi finally getting used to you?”
He grunted. “Doesn’t have much choice.”
I laughed. “Still busting your chops, huh?”
“Sometimes. He’s not that bad. He just really, really hates having a bodyguard.”
I could understand that. Levi had built his career with his tough-guy character, and though he’d apparently been trying to distance himself from that role, it probably grated on him to need physical security. I suspected that was farther from his macho action hero role than he’d bargained for. Especially since Alfonse was mostly there to protect Carter, who’d received a few threats from unhinged fans. I could only imagine what that did to Levi, knowing his partner needed someone else there for protection he couldn’t realistically provide himself. God knew I’d guarded the wives of a couple of men like that when I’d still worked in California.
Alfonse straightened, rolling his broad shoulders and tilting his head from one side to the other, as if to get rid of some stiffness. “Well, at least they don’t need me in the evenings, and Carter’s turning into as much of a homebody as Levi. And since they don’t keep me around longer than they absolutely have to, I can actually spend time with Christine.”
“That’s a bonus, I guess.” I sipped my coffee. “How’s she doing, anyway?”
“Good. Her job’s keeping her pretty busy. It’d be nice if she could visit more often, but . . .” He shrugged.
“Yeah, I can imagine.” They’d only been dating for a short while, but she lived in Portland, which was about five hours away. Nothing like a long-distance relationship to make people decide if the other person was really worth it.
A few minutes later, while he went to refill his coffee, I checked in with Anna. As expected, she was still talking to the other director and the producer. She dismissed me tersely, barely even glancing at me, and kept glaring at the producer, clenching her jaw like she was about to tear off the idiot’s head, which wasn’t unusual. The guy had a reputation for being a bit of a dick. This would probably take a while.
So, I refilled my own coffee and returned to my place next to Alfonse.
Usually, I’d be stealing glances at the stunning cast in between keeping an eye on Anna. The casting directors had certainly done well. Carter and Levi looked good even when they were made up to look like hell. Then there was Ginsberg, who was well cast as Carter’s stunt double. Physically, they were almost identical, of course, but had different faces, and Ginsberg was as likely to catch my eye as Carter. Ari, one of the other actors, was currently resting his forearms on the back of a folding chair and looking at something on his phone, oblivious to any bodyguards who might be checking him out.
Most days, I’d chuckle to myself and think it was a pity these guys were all very much in relationships. Or that they were all miles out of my league.
But today, I didn’t mind looking without a snowball’s chance in hell of touching. Here I was surrounded by some of the hottest actors in Hollywood—not to mention some crew members and stuntmen who gave them a run for their money—and my mind kept wandering back to that stubbled marriage counselor. These guys were all sexy in their own ways. Most had charisma to burn.
But Scott just . . . did it for me.
He fucked with my senses the same way Hunter Easton did. He was closer to my age—though I wasn’t that much older than Levi—and he wasn’t as boisterous and charismatic as some of the actors here on the set, but he had a presence that wouldn’t be ignored. Like he could just walk into a room and command attention without making a sound.
Maybe it was because I actually had a better shot with him than I did any of the men on this soundstage, but my chances or lack thereof had never stopped me from fantasizing about someone. And I’d been fantasizing about Scott since the eagle trip.
And in a few hours, if I played my cards right, maybe I’d get to do more than fantasize.
* * *
Anna was waiting for the other producers and some studio bigwigs to get back from a late lunch for another meeting, so we both hung out beside her office. It was a nice day—no sense spending it indoors if we didn’t have to.
I checked the time on my phone again. It was just after five thirty. Scott was probably in his last appointment right now. I wondered if he could concentrate any more than I could. Hopefully he could. His line of work required him to hang on a person’s every word, watching their body language and understanding the subtext of everything they said.
In theory, mine did too, but I was well trained in picking up tics and nuances before a person made his move.
Maybe Scott was too. He’d probably been in this line of work for a while—he could’ve been out of college for twenty years or more by now—so he could likely do it in his sleep. God knew my marriage counselor had always seemed to
be running on autopilot and going through the motions.
“Hey. Jeremy.”
I turned to Anna. “Hmm?”
“You okay?” She tilted her head and quirked her eyebrows. “You’ve been kind of spacy today. And antsy, actually.”
“Yeah, I’m . . . uh . . .”
“Hot date tonight?”
“What? No! I mean . . . well . . .”
“Jeremy, you dog!” She elbowed me playfully. “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”
“First date.”
“Oh, I see. When are you meeting him?”
“I told him I’d text him when I was free.”
Anna pursed her lips and looked at her watch. “Hmm, I’ve got one more meeting here.” She met my gaze again. “After that, I’ve . . .” She trailed off, tracking something beyond me from one side of the lot to the other.
I turned around, following her gaze, and nothing was moving that way except for Natalya, the stunt coordinator. The beautifully fit, ex-Soviet gymnast stunt coordinator who nobody fucked with. I wasn’t at all attracted to women, but I could see why she turned heads.
Anna shook herself. “Sorry. I . . .”
I chuckled. “Distracted?”
Her face turned beet red. “I . . . uh . . .”
“It’s all right. Everybody looks sometimes.”
“I know, but . . .” She bit her lip and lowered her gaze, looking more ashamed than sheepish now.
“Relax,” I said. “I won’t say anything.”
“Yeah, I know. I just feel guilty.” She sighed. “I’m trying like hell to keep things together with Leigh, but—”
“But you can’t help someone catching your eye. It’s okay. You’re human.” God knew I’d stolen a few glances at men while I was still married. “I won’t tell.”
She laughed quietly. “Thanks.” She glanced at her watch. “Anyway, I’ve got this last meeting, and then I’m supposed to Skype with some of the assholes in LA. Why don’t you take me back to the house after this, and I can connect at home?”
Get together with Scott sooner? Oh hell yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
I schooled my expression so she didn’t notice me devolving into a giddy school kid. Or a too-horny-to-think teenager, anyway. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” She squeezed my arm and winked. “Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks.”
Am I there yet?
Chapter 5
I was nervous enough to be tempted by the myriad colorful beers on tap, but I stuck to a Sprite, at least for now. I wasn’t much of a drinker anymore anyway, so my tolerance was way down. By the time I’d gotten enough alcohol in me to ease my nerves, I’d have nothing to be nervous about because sex wouldn’t be happening. Not happening very well, anyway.
Sprite it was.
Tapping my fingers beside my barely touched drink, I racked my brain trying to figure out what this could be besides a pre-sex formality. God help me if he wanted more than a one-night stand. If he did, I’d shut that down before it went too far—sex was great, but relationships were where I drew the line.
And maybe it wasn’t sex or anything at all. This could be nothing, but I struggled to make myself believe he just wanted to get together and talk about the eagles we’d seen the other day.
So, I’d come prepared for all possibilities. More than once while I sat in the booth and waited for him, I checked my coat pocket to make sure the bottle of lube hadn’t magically vanished—or less magically sprung a leak—and that, yes, I really had brought some condoms with me. Whatever happened tonight, I was definitely ready. And if it didn’t happen with Scott, there was a gay bar over in Port Angeles, and I was pretty sure the bartender was single, so if—
The front door opened, and my glass almost slid out of my hand.
Oh God. There he was.
He must’ve gone home first. He’d changed into a pair of jeans, and when he shrugged off his jacket, he revealed a plain black T-shirt. His mostly gray hair was damp and carefully arranged, and my brain showed me an image of him in the shower and—
Okay, to hell with it. I needed a drink. One drink wouldn’t fuck up the evening. I still might, but it wouldn’t be the alcohol’s fault.
I flagged down the waiter as Scott slid into the booth across from me.
“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”
“No, no. Not at all. You, um, want something to drink?”
Like magic, the waiter appeared beside the table.
Scott glanced at the beers on tap. “Um . . . how about an Olympic Ale?”
The waiter nodded and turned to me.
“Gin and tonic, please,” I said.
He disappeared to get our drinks, and we faced each other across the table.
“So.” I cleared my throat. “Do you usually pick up guys in your waiting room?”
Scott laughed. “Not as a general rule, no. But if I see something I like, well . . .” He winked.
My mouth was suddenly dry. I drained what was left of my soda—goddamn it, I need some alcohol—and pushed the empty glass to the edge of the table. “You should’ve said something on the bus.”
“I thought about it, believe me.” He rested his elbow on the table and absently rubbed the backs of his fingers along the edge of his jaw, skin hissing across stubble. “Better late than never, right?”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“I mean, if I hadn’t crossed paths with you, I suppose I could’ve booked another tour and tried again with the boat guide.”
I bristled slightly, as if I had any right to be jealous, and Scott grinned. Busted.
The waiter showed up with our drinks—thank God—and it took some serious restraint not to pound the gin and tonic and send him back for a double.
Scott didn’t help matters. He brought his drink almost to his lips, but then lowered it and met my gaze. “Okay, we’re both adults here. I think we both know what we want.” The glass clicked on the table between us. “What do you say we cut to the chase?”
I gulped. “You’re very direct, aren’t you?”
He chuckled, eyes still locked on mine. “I just don’t like wasting time playing games.”
“Yeah, I can think of better ways to spend that time.”
His grin hit my veins harder than the gin. “I had a feeling we were both on the same page. To be honest, I would’ve talked to you on the bus if I could’ve stayed awake.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, that tour had some pretty brutal hours.”
“Right? And, well, there were people around. You had friends with you.”
“Were you planning on divulging national secrets or something?”
He laughed, and I loved the way he did it. The shadow of stubble made the sudden burst of perfect white teeth that much more eye-catching, but even if he’d been clean-shaven, I suspected that bright smile could light up a room.
“No national secrets.” He chuckled, lifting his drink and idly swirling it. “Just thought the subject matter warranted a little discretion.”
“Well. Now you’ve got me a little nervous and a lot intrigued.”
“Nothing to be nervous about. I don’t bite.”
“Damn. There goes my plan for the evening.”
Scott straightened, and he gulped.
Finally, I’d caught him off guard.
“Well, you’ve got me here,” I said. “What are you doing to do with me?”
Scott grinned, a thin crescent of a smile showing just enough teeth to bring to mind a great white. “See, that’s the problem. Bluewater Bay is pretty progressive, but they still have these damned public indecency laws.”
I almost dropped my fucking drink—again—as Scott reclaimed the upper hand. “Come again?”
“So whatever I plan to do with you, I can’t very well do it here.” He waved a hand at our surroundings.
“Is this the part where I yell ‘check, please’ and we leave?”
“Of course not.
” He rested his elbows on either side of his drink and slid his foot alongside mine. “I know what I want for an entrée, but that doesn’t mean I want to skip the appetizer.”
My mouth went dry, but somehow my voice still worked as I said, “You seem pretty sure you’re going to get what you want.”
“Am I wrong?” The challenge in his eyes made me want to tell him he was, or at least make him work for it, but the blood rushing below my belt said otherwise.
“Well,” I said, “you’ve seemed pretty confident since you walked in tonight, even before I agreed that I was on the same page.”
“Mm-hmm. And you’re here. That in itself was promising.”
“Could’ve been curiosity. It isn’t every day someone hands me a business card and says to meet him later without much pretense.” I shrugged. “Maybe it was a matter of national security.”
“I suppose that was possible. But I’m not sure what national security could possibly have to do with anything I have in mind tonight. Unless I’m on some kind of secret government watch list for men who like to destroy furniture and clothing with other men.”
My jaw dropped before I could tell myself to play it cool.
“The bottom line, though,” he went on, “is that after kicking myself the last few days for not getting more than your name, it must’ve been fate when we crossed paths again.” His wicked grin told me the fate he was thinking of had nothing to do with soul mates or forever, and my spine tingled. It didn’t help when he added, “So I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity.”
I grinned. “Not even for a shot at our boat guide?”
“Not even for him.”
“So, no pressure, right?”
He laughed. “No pressure. Though I should probably warn you about something.”
My heart sped up. “Yeah?”
He spoke so softly I had to lean closer to hear him. “I usually take my time once I get someone home. But there’s two problems with that tonight.”