“Exposure therapy?” she ventured.
“That’s psychiatric bull.”
“You’re not a therapist,” she shot back. “Your way of coping hasn’t been exactly brilliant, either.” Her mouth formed an “O” in shock at the accusation that had tumbled out. She clicked her jaw shut.
Instead of lashing out at her, which she deserved, David said, even more gently, “I’ve tried a few methods. I admit I made a fool of myself by chasing after women who bore a physical resemblance to Jen. That’s over. Finishing Desert Wind will be the end of it.” He added, “I don’t give a damn how your sainted Lucas feels, now or ever.”
That was unanswerable. “All right,” she said. “Let’s try to piece the story together.”
David’s memories were maddeningly vague. After an hour of questioning him, using the script scenes as prompts, Sara asked in frustration, “Do you at least know if the final action scenes were ever shot?”
“I’m not sure. I think so.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t remember. Everything happened at once and all the emotion has short-circuited my memory.”
She didn’t want to go there, but she had to. “Do you remember acting the final scene?”
“Yes, but maybe not a final take.” His lips tightened. “I was wrapped up in Jen. My lines didn’t mean much to me.”
“So you don’t know if you said them all on camera?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t remember.”
She paged through the script to the end. “What about the horse? It says the last scene for your character, Dusty, is on a horse.”
“Yeah. I ride off into the sunset. Typical old school western, except since this was the great Lucas Steel, it was very arty and was going to make a splash.” He said it with a twist of his lips.
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Ride off?”
“Yes. But I can’t talk about that day.” David’s expression was closed.
Another roadblock. Maybe a different angle would work. “What about the lawsuit? Did you or anyone testify about what happened before the accident?”
He cocked his head. “There might have been depositions, but it never got to trial. The police wouldn’t arrest Steel, and my own lawyer told me there wasn’t enough evidence for a civil suit against Steel. I think his lawyer and mine went to lunch and decided they’d rather go on vacation somewhere with our partial fees than spend a year arguing the case.”
“Don’t you remember any details?”
“Jen was all I was thinking of, before and after the accident.”
She compressed her lips, but somehow could not resist giving her opinion. “She took advantage of you.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t a virgin. Look at my face. I’d been getting girls easily for a long time before I met her.”
His face was as perfect as a Greek sculpture in a museum. Of course women had pursued him. “Then why?” The words escaped her mouth without conscious volition.
David’s eyes showed that he was in the past. “When we met, she was at the height of her beauty. She bowled me over.”
“She was at least fifteen years older than you.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t matter. She was quite magical. She had a classic movie queen attitude and it suited her. Like a diva. She insisted she was special and that everyone treat her as such. Being in her presence felt like an important achievement. Being allowed to bed her, well, you don’t want to know.”
“No, I don’t.” How could she compete with the memory of someone deemed “magical”? The catch in his voice when he spoke of Jennifer Barnes was telling. For all his brave talk, he was still hung up on her. What did that make Sara? Was she the unnamed second wife of Max de Winter in the movie Rebecca, hopelessly trying to compete with a ghost?
Sara’s expression must have given her away.
“I’m over her,” he insisted. “It took a long time and a stupid marriage for all the wrong reasons, but I’m not looking back anymore.”
“Then why are you so determined to complete Desert Wind?”
“My therapist says it’s closure.” He looked at her. “I know you didn’t like Jen. I’m not sure why.”
Somehow his honesty made her want to tell him the truth. “I was angry at her because I thought I was in love with Lucas.”
Chapter 20
David looked stunned. “Now I get it. You wanted him, and you were mad that Jen had him and dumped him.”
“That’s putting it crudely, but yes.”
“Are you still in love with him? Is that why you defend him all the time?”
“I still care about him, but,” she felt the shock of her own confession, “I’m not in love with him anymore.” She flushed as he appraised her expression, seeming to search for signs she was telling the truth. How ironic that she’d been looking at his face for the past two days, wondering the same about him.
“Then I’ve got a chance,” David said.
Her pulse sped up, but she fought her reaction. “Can we not talk anymore about it now? Please?” she asked. “Can we keep to business?”
David said, “All right, but I’m not going to pretend you didn’t say it.”
She felt relieved, and at the same time strangely disappointed that David had agreed not to pressure her.
“Where do you suggest we go from here?” he asked.
“To piece the files together, I need the final script.”
“Then let’s go shake it out of Lucas.”
After a thorough search of the house, they found Lucas swimming laps. Bare naked, as always. Sara sighed. He really was an impossible man. “You talk to him. I find naked men disconcerting.”
“You’re not sleeping with him,” David said, as if he’d had a revelation.
“Correct.”
David smiled, a brilliant smile that lit his face. “That’s good news.” He turned her gently around, to face the outside windows. “Shield your maidenly eyes. I’ll do the talking.
“Steel,” David called. He called several times, his voice echoing across the water. Finally he got Lucas's attention. The noise of swimming stopped.
“What do you want, Connor?”
“Your final shooting script for Desert Wind.”
“Why should I let you have it?”
“Because you owe me, and you owe Jen, and you owe Sara, and you owe George. Are those enough reasons? Stop screwing around. Let’s get this film wrapped.”
“I don’t direct anymore. I’m retired.” To Sara’s ears, Lucas's voice sounded sullen.
“Hand it over.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Not good enough. Do I have to call the sheriff again?”
“You’re a pain in the ass, Connor.”
“Damn right. Haul yourself out of the water. I want that script right now.”
Sara heard splashing noises. Lucas getting out of the pool, she hoped. Was he finally about to cooperate?
“He’s decent, Sara. You can turn around.”
When she did, the fading sunlight streaming through the windows created an odd illusion. Although Lucas was taller and huskier than David, David looked larger. Also golden, as usual.
They trouped toward Lucas's wing of the house.
“Wait for us in the television room,” David said. “No need to relive yesterday afternoon. I might have to pound on him some more. You don’t want to see me do it.”
“Too true.” She wasn’t eager to see the men attacking each other again, if that’s what would happen next. Five minutes passed, then ten.
Twenty-five minutes later, David strolled into the room with a script in his hand.
“Success,” he grinned, tossing the bound pages on the coffee table. He rested his hands on his narrow hips and threw back his head in the stance of a conqueror.
“Good job.” She clapped her hands. “How did you convince him?”
“A temporary truce. We’ll never be bosom buddies,
even if we have in common that we both had sex with the same woman.”
She winced. “Too much information.”
“Just being honest.” He sat down next to her and picked up the script.
They leafed through the multicolored pages, which were hole-punched and bound with metal prong fasteners. He touched her occasionally, as if casually. Her reaction to each touch was tense and excited. The young lion had conquered the old lion. Was David broadcasting an unconscious mating call because of his victory? He radiated sexual confidence that communicated to her on a pheromone level. She made some mundane comment about the beat-up script with all its colored additional pages jammed in. All her senses were on high alert.
David replied similarly at random. Instead of reading the script, his eyes studied every nuance of her appearance. Those clear blue eyes traveled from her face down her body and back again to settle on her lips. Was he about to kiss her again?
“We should do something about this chemistry we have.” He put an arm around her.
She fought the tingle that enveloped her. “That is a pathetic line. All your lines are very obvious clichés.” She leaned into his arm, a gesture that softened her words.
“Women seem to like the classic lines,” he said, planting a peck on her cheek. So soft.
She wanted more. “I think they’re blinded by your Adonis-like looks.” If she turned her head just a little, their lips would meet.
“Or my fame, or my money.” He put his other arm around her, turning her so they were chest to chest.
Her arms went around his neck. She pressed her breasts against him, feeling her whole body relax and yet tingle at the contact. “I’ll bet no woman has ever said no to you.”
A knowing smile lifted one corner of his lips. He whispered, “You’re not going to be the first, are you?”
She shivered. “That depends on what’s on offer.” She licked her lips, and then dared to lick his.
“Everything,” he said, before pressing his lips to hers.
***
They came up for air a few minutes later. Sara very deliberately moved two feet away from David, though still on the couch.
“You seemed…enthusiastic. Didn’t you enjoy kissing me?” he asked.
“A little too much,” she said. She sounded prim, but it couldn’t be helped. She straightened her T-shirt, which had somehow gotten crooked. She repressed the memory of how that had happened. Something to do with one of his hands touching her breasts softly.
“So?” He cocked his head. “Want to?” What he meant was obvious.
She did, but that was crazy thinking. She shook her head. “I barely know you.”
She needed time to consider what was growing between them. Too bad she couldn’t think about anything but kissing David again.
She picked up the script and stood. “There’s no time to waste. I’m going to the editing booth. Alone.”
She walked away quickly, not giving him a chance to persuade her to spend the afternoon in bed with him. If she was honest, she was running.
***
Hours later, David tapped on the door and came in, bearing a tray. “Room service. Leona didn’t like it that you skipped the fun of dining with us tonight.”
She looked up from the monitor. “Fun? Really?”
“More like me poking at a caged tiger,” he grinned. “We just barely avoided getting physical.”
Sara picked up one of the elegant sandwiches Leona had concocted. “Did you ask Lucas about more files?”
“Repeatedly. I think he enjoys keeping us guessing.”
She nibbled on a sandwich. “That is so immature. What’s he doing now?”
“Drinking himself under the table again.”
“You bring out the best in him.”
“That I do,” he replied with a smile.
She sighed. “I thought George wanted me to convince Lucas to cooperate. Now I wonder if I was the pawn in George’s chess game.”
“If you’re the pawn, I’m the knight. The action man.” He puffed out his chest and raised one arm to flex a muscle.
She strangled a laugh.
He stopped playing and bent a serious expression on her. “If I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself, will you let me help you?”
She was tired enough by now to take the chance that she could hold David at bay and control her own growing feelings for him. “Okay. We’ll split up the identification tasks.” She described how to correlate the file numbers with the script pages and scenes.
“I can do that,” he said.
She grabbed another dainty sandwich before handing him some disks. “Start with these.”
***
They toiled for hours over the script and the film files, trying to match them up. It was painfully slow work because the naming system told them nothing useful. Each file had to be opened and checked. The process dragged on and on. Long after midnight, Sara rubbed her tired eyes and said, “I give up for tonight. I need to rest.”
“I wondered when you’d finally take a break.” He entered the last bit of data into the spreadsheet he’d created, then shut the computer he’d been using. “I’m fried. I’m not cut out for a desk job.” He ran one hand through his blond hair. “Bed for me, too.”
They both were too worn out emotionally to act on the chemistry between them. Seeing Jen’s face hour after hour, and David’s, so young and vulnerable and obviously in love, had curdled any impulse Sara had to mindlessly get physical with him. Not that he was offering at the moment. For him, reviewing the footage undoubtedly brought up many feelings from the past. They said good night without any drama.
***
After tossing and turning for an hour, Sara realized sleeping was hopeless. Scenes from Desert Wind kept playing over and over in her mind even though her eyes were tightly shut. Sleep evaded her. She threw on some shorts and a T-shirt, slipped her feet into zoris, and went to the kitchen for some coffee.
She prowled through the fridge and the pantry, looking for something to eat, too. If she was to pull an all-nighter looking at Desert Wind files, she wanted sustenance.
“What are you doing up?” David asked. He wore exercise shorts and a T-shirt, and no shoes.
“Did I wake you? I tried not to make any noise in the corridor.”
“You shouldn’t have any ghosts keeping you from sleep.” He frowned a little.
“Unlike you?” She stopped moving coffee cups around the kitchen island and looked directly at him. “Why would you feel haunted?”
He threaded one hand through his hair. “You don’t stop loving someone just because she died.” He came over to the island and picked up the cake knife. “I’m supposed to protect my woman.” He tossed the knife back on the platter. “The only thing I can do for Jen now is make sure the world knows what a great actress she was.”
The obsession again. Were they all crazy here?
“What about you?” he asked. “Why are you eating cake in the middle of the night?”
She perched at the counter on one side of the kitchen island and toyed with the icing on the piece she’d plated. It was lemon cake, her favorite. David’s presence had dried up her appetite. “I can’t turn my mind off. I’m as caught up in this as you are. I’ve cared about Lucas since I was his intern.”
David got an odd look on his face. “Did he mess with you back then?”
“No. Well, not exactly.”
“Which means yes. He tried something. The tortured soul routine, right?” David’s eyes held hers, willing her to confess.
Her eyes widened. “How did you guess?”
“Jen told me about his nasty habit.”
“No.” She shook her head to emphasize her denial.
David moved closer and leaned down into her face. “Yes. Your idol liked to mess with his interns. The more naïve and fresh-faced, the better. Did you ever wonder how you got such a miracle job when you were from Nowhere, USA, and your qualifications weren’t any better than someone
who’d graduated from the UCLA film school?”
“I never thought about it. I knew I’d gotten lucky. That’s all.”
David laughed, not a nice laugh. “Jen told me he reviewed all the photos of job seekers from Human Resources. He picked out the pretty girls, then narrowed his choice to the most naïve-looking ones. He made sure to behave very kindly to the girl. And when the time came, when he felt like paying Jen back for one of her escapades, he’d do his new intern.”
“No.” The repudiation was torn from her.
“Oh, he made a nice job of it. Jen said he would put on an act of being hard done by because of her latest fling. He’d take the girl out for dinner, impress the hell out of her, and then take her to his Malibu house where she couldn’t just walk out. Then he’d do her. She’d end up feeling really, really grateful. Of course she wouldn’t tell anyone. But just in case, afterward, he’d say he was very sorry. He’d do more of his tortured soul routine about having behaved in an unethical and illegal manner. He’d say of course she couldn’t work for him anymore, because he’d done her wrong. He’d promise to get her a job with a friend.”
“No.” she said, remembering.
“Yes.” He gave her a piercing glance. “Sound familiar?”
She turned her head away, but David walked around the counter to stand in front of her.
“He’d boast to Jen about it afterward. He kept score. They had an open marriage, but he liked his women to idolize him. You idolized him, Sara, didn’t you?”
Her face must have shown her horror.
“He had you, didn’t he?” David said, in disgust.
She bolted from the room. When he called after her, she ignored him. She locked herself inside her new room, and then inside the bathroom, where she turned on the water in the tub full blast.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, she wept for her dream. She wept for six years of her life, wasted. She wept for the moments when she’d shortchanged men who cared for her, and all because she had a mistaken idea of who and what Lucas Steel was. Days of sadness. Nights of yearning. All for nothing.
She believed David. It was all too pat. How else could David know about the dinner, the Malibu house, and the job with George as a consolation prize, unless Jennifer Barnes knew about it, too? What reason would David have to lie to Sara, to claim that Lucas seduced his interns as a habit? None. It didn’t matter to David if Lucas did it only once or repeatedly. Lucas must have played that scene many times, and worse, boasted about it to his wife.
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