“You didn’t answer my question.”
She lifted her glass to her mouth and took a swallow of ice tea to moisten her dry throat. “I checked out your editing system to see how compatible it is with the one I usually work on.”
“That took you four hours?”
“I played around with some files I’d brought,” she said, shrugging. “More power makes a huge difference in how fast I can work. Your power system needs an upgrade. I ordered you a new one.”
“But did you find any old files?” he asked, impatiently showing his real purpose behind the questions.
“You told me not to go looking,” she said, hoping he’d take her half-truth as reassurance.
Leona entered the patio with a tray of food, which gave Sara time to think. Did Lucas want her to admit she’d found files of Desert Wind, even though he hadn’t given her official permission to see them? Did he want her to access them, but without telling her so directly? He must have remembered during his ride today that he’d left Desert Wind files on the editing computer. Yet he hadn’t stormed into the editing booth to see what she was doing.
Although that could be because he didn’t want to see Jennifer Barnes on the screen. No, don’t go there.
Sara had to be tougher if she was to save Lucas from living the rest of his life as a hermit. Until he threw her out of his home, she would not take his refusals as final. She would negotiate, encroach, and use any other means possible to gain his eventual cooperation.
Had Desert Wind gotten as far as editing? She’d only found digital dailies, the raw takes from a day’s shooting. Wading through them, making sense of them, would take weeks. George hadn’t sounded good today. She didn’t have the luxury of weeks to decipher which were edited files. She needed Lucas's help to identify what she’d found.
She fingered the beads of condensation on her ice tea glass, then took a breath. “Lucas, what scenes of Desert Wind remain to be filmed? If I’m to help finish this project, I need to know where it stopped five years ago.”
He practically spat out his ice tea. “I can’t believe you said that. Have you no respect?” His eyes were wild again, as if he were a powder keg about to explode.
“Oh—I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry,” she stuttered, aghast that he thought she’d been referring to the day of Jennifer Barnes's death. Something ached in Sara’s chest. This was the man she had learned to love all those years ago. She didn’t want to hurt him by reminding him of the past. “I meant to ask, how complete is the film?”
When Lucas's glare didn’t falter, she tried again. “Was any part of it already in editing?”
He threw down his napkin and stormed from the room, turning back to say, “Stay out of the editing booth from now on.”
Suddenly, the taco salad on her plate made her want to retch. Her appetite had vanished, replaced by a sick feeling of defeat. She had pushed him too far. Now she was locked out of the editing booth. Worse still, Lucas viewed her as an enemy. If he wouldn’t answer even basic questions about the state of the project, help her just a little, how could she possibly fulfill her mission for George before it was too late? Maybe she should leave now, with whatever files she had found today.
If Lucas remained stuck in the past, in daily communion with his anger, he might never regain the will to continue his brilliant career as one of the world’s foremost auteur directors. That would be heartbreaking twice over.
Chapter 8
Sara mopped her moist eyes with the napkin. So much for lunch. Lucas locking her out of the editing booth meant she might as well take a break.
With Leona’s help, Sara outfitted herself for a walk. The straw hat, a water bottle, and her phone, plus a sturdy walking stick in case of snakes. She started off down the drive, then took a path Leona had suggested.
Sweat popped out on her forehead immediately, but after the machine-cooled atmosphere inside the house, it was good to experience real air. The path was a mere rustic trail, nothing fancy, but it was marked clearly enough that she wouldn’t wander off into the desert wilderness surrounding her.
After some uphill, the trail ended at an outcropping of flat stone, where Lucas or someone had added a bench. She carefully checked the area for wildlife, then allowed herself to sit and contemplate the view.
Desert, hills, and more desert. Short trees, Creosote bushes and tarbushes, grew here and there, thin-leaved and creating no significant shade. Even so, animals hid among them. Birds flew from bush to bush.
Los Angeles was a desert, too, but completely overlaid by cultivation. Many of the buildings she passed on her daily trek to the studio had automatic sprinklers. The greenery and flowers were suited to the LA temperatures, but only constant watering kept them alive. As for birds, the city had thousands, including the inevitable pigeons. Here, she heard a few bird calls but had no idea of the names. The same held true with the shrubs. She wasn’t sure which were Creosote and which were tarbush. The pictures she’d seen online weren’t enough. At least she could recognize a bush when she saw one, but otherwise, her knowledge of botany was pathetic. She lived in a city of artifice, where even the plant life was artificial.
What was she doing here? Was she here to finally win over the man she’d loved from afar for six years? Or was she here to help him stop grieving for what life had taken from him? Full stop, not to possess him for herself, but launch him toward a healthy future? Or was it all for George, to please a dying man she loved dearly as a father figure and mentor?
If she didn’t know what she wanted from Lucas, how could she get it from him? For some reason, he continued to allow her to verbally challenge him, which was a surprise. She couldn’t count on that continuing. She ought to decide what she wanted most and press for that.
She’d fallen in love with Lucas when she was a naïve young woman. He’d been so kind, so supportive as she bumbled her way through her first weeks of interning. He was an admirable man. He treated all his employees well. He was professional and fair. All his films were so brilliant they made her admire him even more. Was that enough reason to fall head over heels in love with him? Perhaps not, but she’d done so, anyway.
Her daydreams were childish nonsense, but the physical attraction she had felt for Lucas was real. He had only to touch her casually while handing her a sheaf of papers and her skin grew moist with heat. Electricity coursed up her arm at other accidental brushes. Even seeing him across a room caused her insides to clench with longing, and her breasts to rise erect, begging for his touch.
Impossible. She developed an impossible love for him, partly admiration, partly the susceptibility of a young woman bursting with hormones. But he was married. She kept her feelings hidden. She made no moves on him.
Yet she couldn’t disguise her eagerness to be of assistance to him. She couldn’t hide the sheer joy in her eyes when she saw him. How naïve she had been. Of course he saw it all. He was a man of experience and she was a mere kid. But he never took advantage of her.
Except that one night.
His misery over Jennifer Barnes's open affair with David Connor drew Lucas into inviting Sara to dinner after they had worked late. She’d gone, wide-eyed. They’d dined romantically and ended up at his Malibu beach house, watching the surf. Jennifer Barnes had moved out, very publicly, to live adulterously with David Connor. The marriage might be over.
All evening, Sara wondered if Lucas was even listening to her talk. She babbled on earnestly about her career hopes, trying to show him she had ambition enough to make herself worthy of him.
They shared some wine, looking out over the ocean in his glass and steel home. The lights behind them had been dimmed so they could see better.
She remembered how he stared at the darkness. The young Sara had not known how to cope with that. So she’d talked even more. Finally, maybe only to shut her up, Lucas had turned his attention to her and started lightly kissing her. At least, it was light on his side. Not on hers. Sara was transported with ecstasy. Th
e wondrous man she’d shed so many secret tears over needed her.
But she’d been a coward even then. When Lucas had made it plain he wanted to take her to bed, she’d chickened out. She’d jumped at his first touch on her breasts. Despite his soothing words, she’d resisted when he tried to strip her of her little dress. When his hand slid up under her skirt, she fought him. No, hardly the seduction scene he might have hoped for to take his mind off his wife’s betrayal. Sara instinctively closed up. She moved away from him and stood on the balcony, her arms wrapped around herself.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered, incipient tears choking her throat.
“Perhaps not.” He sounded annoyed.
“Call me naïve, but I didn’t realize what you wanted.”
He sighed. “Are you that innocent?”
She hugged herself tighter, as the words tumbled out. “I never dated or anything in high school. In college there were a few boys. But I never learned the secret code to grown-up behavior. If I led you on, I’m sorry.”
He sighed again. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I knew better than to prey on your crush on me.”
“You knew?”
“Of course. Those little glances. Those melting looks.”
She wanted to shrivel up and die. “I’m so ashamed.”
“Don’t be. There’s nothing wrong with caring about someone.” He looked at her. “Your feelings for me don’t give me the right to use you. I’m glad you stopped me.” He turned and walked into the house, clicking on a lamp. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No, please.” She followed him inside. “I’ll call a cab.”
He closed the door to the balcony and motioned to the front door of the house. “I was foolish to bring you here. I won’t turn our innocent evening together into some sordid gossip item. A cab driver would sell the story about taking you home. You’d be plastered all over the gossip rags.”
“I hadn’t thought…” She was horrified at the danger of becoming the gossip story of the week.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was an arrogant, needy fool. I never considered the consequences.”
He drove her home in silence, while she tried to hide the moisture that trickled down her cheeks. But he saw. At a stoplight, he put a hand out and wiped away a stray rivulet.
“I don’t deserve your tears, little girl. But thank you for caring. You took my mind off my miserable self for a few hours. I’m grateful.”
She couldn’t reply. She would have started sobbing.
At her apartment building, he deliberately parked under a tree, where it was dark.
Before she could open her door, he leaned over and softly kissed her cheek. “Sara, I want you to forget about this evening completely.”
“How can I?” she wailed. “Everybody will know something happened by the look on my face.”
“I’ll get you a new job. You can work for George, my business partner. He’s a good guy. You’ll be safe from me, too.”
“I—I…maybe that would be best,” she said, subdued at the thought of never seeing him again.
“I’ve got to get control of my life. I can’t go off on a tangent.” He rubbed the steering wheel. “Stay home for the next few days. I’ll cover for you at the office, say you’re sick. Then we’ll get you transferred to George.”
She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Oh, hell, don’t thank me. I almost ruined your life tonight. I’m your boss. I had no right to touch you, not even once. Now I’m making you quit a job you love. But it’ll be okay with George, you’ll see. He’ll be a mentor to you.”
He pushed her toward the car door. “Go. Be happy.”
“You, too,” she said, choking on her renewed tears.
***
She hadn’t seen Lucas again until yesterday.
The bench was hard. She’d sat out here a long time, remembering how young and stupid she once was. The desert animals had stopped worrying about her. Lizards played around the rock, dashing within a few feet of the bench. A long-eared rabbit scurried around below. A hawk soared above, looking for a right-sized meal. Time for her to go back to the house and try again.
Working for George had been difficult at first, but she was relieved not to be burdened by strong emotions for her boss. She soon regained her focus on her career, and with it, enthusiasm to learn and to excel. George rewarded her for every bit of her hard work, claiming she made him look good. As for her emotions, she kept them out of the office entirely, but the flame of her love for Lucas Steel still burned.
Lucas gave up on his marriage. He divorced his wife. Then he started shooting Desert Wind despite all the scandal surrounding him. Jennifer Barnes and David Connor were photographed everywhere, looking happy. Then came the location shoot, and the tragic accident.
David Connor ran his mouth to any gossip rag that would listen, accusing Lucas of causing Jennifer Barnes's death. Meanwhile, Lucas holed up in the desert. Was it from guilt or despair? Anger or regret? While his rival had gone on with his life, marrying and divorcing, breaking out as a major star and winning an Oscar, Lucas had stayed locked in the past. Whatever had prompted him to abandon his career, it was past time for him to move on. If he ever could.
She carefully retraced her steps along the path to the house. No need to get lost and require rescuing two days in a row. She had work to do. Find out what was keeping Lucas trapped in the past, and push through it.
As she drew near the house, she saw a Jeep pulled up to the front door. Not hers. Assuming it was a visitor for Lucas, once inside, she made to pass the living room and head for her bedroom.
“Sara, come in here. Look who just arrived,” Lucas called.
She hesitantly moved to the wide doorway. Lucas's guest, standing by a couch, turned and gazed at her.
David Connor.
Chapter 9
David aimed an exceptionally warm, gentle smile directly at Sara. Then he walked toward her. “Nice to see you again, Sara.”
His voice was soft. He took her hand, and static electricity shot up her arm.
She recoiled, and looked at Lucas for guidance.
He stared at her suspiciously. “How do you know Connor?”
“He came to George’s hospital room.”
Lucas frowned. “Connor claims he’s here to help us finish that film you’ve been pestering me about.”
“How do you feel about that?” she asked.
“Overjoyed,” he said, with deadpan sarcasm.
David said, “I was just telling Lucas that I’ve taken an option on the film from George.”
“He sold you an option? He’s not…doing worse, is he?” she asked, trying to tamp down her sudden fear.
He shrugged. “He didn’t confide in me, but he’s looked better.” He cast a sideways glance at Lucas but spoke to her. “I’m now in charge of the project.”
“That’s debatable,” Lucas said in an even tone.
If David Connor now owned the right to develop the project, control of it was out of Lucas's hands. Sara looked from one man to the other. They bristled with barely suppressed hostility.
David said, “Anyway, since Lucas here is notoriously unwilling to communicate using modern technology, I decided to come and talk about the film in person.”
David named a completion date for shooting. He seemed to enjoy telling her all about his plans, a way of informing Lucas without addressing him directly or asking for his input. “I think it’s a reasonable deadline, if you can pull off the edit quickly.”
“I haven’t actually been given official access yet to the film,” she replied.
“Then it’s about time Lucas cooperated.” David sent Lucas a hostile look.
“You can’t just show up and order me around,” Lucas ground out.
“No, but I can threaten you.” David kept much better control of his temper than his older rival. “If you won’t cooperate, I’ll go to the nearest county seat, swear out a complaint a
gainst you, and bring back as many police officers as can be deputized to search your house and seize the film.”
Lucas's expression was sheer poison. He looked ready to leap on David and rend him limb from limb. Meanwhile, the young upstart, sure of his power, was enjoying himself taunting the older lion. Which man would escalate their war of words into physical violence?
Lucas said, “I ought to kick you out the door, but George called an hour ago and practically begged me to let you stay. Don’t think you’re going to walk all over me. You’re not big enough or smart enough. Desert Wind is my film. Don’t forget that.”
He strode to the doorway. “Leona will give you a room.”
***
After a pause, Sara asked, “Is this how you two got along during filming five years ago?” She’d seldom seen such open hostility in two adult men.
“Usually worse,” David replied, visibly relaxing. He moved to the mantel and lounged against it. “Jen used to incite us both to fury. She loved to cause trouble.”
“It seems she’s still doing it from the grave.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Not a fan? How interesting.”
She shrugged. “I don’t see that my opinion of Jennifer Barnes is relevant to finishing the film. If you can help, fine with me.” She turned to leave. “I want to freshen up from my walk.”
“Don’t go yet.” At her inquiring glance, he explained. “George thought you might be in a little over your head. He sent me as reinforcements.”
She cocked her head sideways. “You expect me to believe that? When you’re probably the one who started up the gossip again by talking to the media?”
“Guilty as charged,” he acknowledged with a sly smile.
Sara gave him an appraising look. He was beautiful, and he knew it. He stood there casually, daring her to find an imperfection in his face or body. He had no visible flaws. Softening up women had probably been a lifetime hobby. The classic nose, the strong chin, the long eyelashes that shielded those amazing eyes. The well-muscled but not overly muscled chest and arms, the broad shoulders and narrow waist. Tall, but not too tall. An average height woman, Sara’s height, would find her head falling on his chest in the hollow between his muscles, exactly where nature intended. Assets like his would draw in anyone even if Hollywood hadn’t polished them to a high shine.
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