by Julia London
“I know.”
“So?” she asked with a smile as she absently jiggled her keys. “Are you ready to name your prize?”
The grin in his eyes made her melt; he glanced down the drive. “Nah…not just yet,” he said, and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I think I’ll save it for later. When we catch up.”
“Great. Gives me something to look forward to.”
Eli smiled and stepped toward her so that they were standing almost toe-to-toe, and let his gaze casually slide down the length of her and up. “Try not to kill yourself driving, all right?”
“I’m the safest driver on the road.”
“That’s highly debatable. Try not to hurt yourself ogling Vince, either.”
She laughed lightly. “Can’t make any promises—the dude sort of lets it all hang out.”
Eli grinned, let his gaze dip to the halter of her dress, and another shot of fire went right to her groin. As if drawn by a magnet, Marnie stepped closer to him. Her breasts were just a hair’s breadth from his Tommy Hilfiger shirt.
He lifted his gaze from her dress, looked at her with mild curiosity, and touched the tip of her nose. “What do you think you are doing, coppertop?”
“Honestly, I’m not really sure.”
“I think you’re trying to lead me down the path to debauchery.”
“Maybe I am,” she said, lifting her face to his. “Do you have a problem with debauchery? Afraid it will get under your skin?” Before Eli could answer, however, some fool cabdriver chose that precise moment to honk his damn horn and ruin The Moment.
Marnie closed her eyes and sighed, but Eli laughed low. “That’s a sign,” he said, and shifted away from her. “So…you think you can keep a lid on it today? Or are you aiming for more air time?”
“Dude, I have got it under control,” she said breezily, and hoped he knew she meant the wedding, because at the moment, her body was out of control, on a little vacation from her good sense, radiating toward Eli and inviting him in for a drink.
Another blast of the stupid cab ruined it for good. “Call me when you’re through here, okay?” Eli said, and with a sly wink he sauntered down the drive toward the cab, his butt a moving work of art.
Marnie watched him walk, and had an image of him wearing chaps and walking with a lasso over his arm…and as he followed the curve of the drive and disappeared behind some shrubbery, she told herself to stop drooling. Besides, she had a naked Vincent Vittorio to look at inside.
She made surprising progress that afternoon, nailing down a lot of details, including the food (lobster), the music, and the decorations. Olivia liked the idea of the bowls of floating stars, but was insistent on crystal bowls. Baccarat crystal bowls, to be precise. And then she thought it would be lovely if each guest could take home a little Baccarat crystal bowl as a memento. “Do you think you can round up a couple hundred?” she asked Marnie in all innocence.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Marnie responded, trying not to think of the expense.
They talked about table arrangements and a stage for the music and dancing, and about the professional guests, the photography, and of course, the bar. They talked about a gown, too. Olivia had already talked to a new designer who was going to make a gown just for her. Marnie was slightly disappointed because she had wanted to shop for a gown with Olivia. Olivia promised to make it up to her with a shoe-shopping date in the next couple of days. “Saks,” she said. “They’ll give me an exclusive look.”
Marnie had no idea what that meant, but it sounded fabulous.
By the time Marnie left Vince’s house, she was satisfied that she finally had a handle on the event, and felt confident that even with the cost of getting the arch to Colorado, she could manage this affair for a million five.
Somewhere on Sunset Boulevard, she dialed Eli’s number and told him she’d made significant progress.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“On Sunset, coming up on the 101.”
“You’re near my house,” he said. “Take Laurel Canyon and come on up.”
Was he asking her over? Was he asking her in? Marnie grinned. “You want me to come to your house?”
“Why not?”
“No reason,” she said, beaming like an idiot. “Are you going to feed me?”
There was a moment of silence on his end. “Sure, I’ll feed you,” he said. “Let me give you directions.”
As it turned out, Marnie knew exactly where he was—in a very swank part of the Hollywood Hills—and told him she’d be there in a half hour. She clicked off the cell phone, grabbed the wheel of her BMW, and cheerfully darted around another bus. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Marnie Banks,” she chastised herself aloud, then laughed.
It was pretty obvious. Ever since that night with Bingo, she’d been developing a large-size crush on Eli. The sudden urge to know him in a less than professional but very biblical manner was not really like her, but hey, she hadn’t been attracted to a man in forever. Eli was an exceptionally good-looking man, and really, she was having all these great cowboy fantasies about him.
Somewhere from the time he’d awakened her this morning to this latest phone call, she’d come around to her what-the-hell philosophy, as in, what the hell? It wasn’t like she was angling to sleep with her client or anything, for chrissakes. Okay, so she was fantasizing about doing her boss, which really wasn’t kosher, but then she rationalized it all away by acknowledging that she’d never flirt like this if this were a real job. Since this was just a little short-term gig, where was the harm?
The harm was that this little short-term gig could make or break her career as a wedding planner to Hollywood. This was the guy who would pay her and then recommend her. Fine. Did it necessarily follow that if she had a fling with him, he’d not recommend her? “That does not necessarily follow, no,” she said firmly to herself. “Anyway, probably nothing will come of it,” she added to the rearview mirror as she checked her lipstick. “He’s probably being polite.” She could handle that. If nothing came of it, she would still enjoy a big flirt and some very hot cowboy fantasies.
Her mind made up, Marnie pulled into a little package store and went in for a bottle of very nice wine. Couldn’t hurt to grease the wheels in her favor, now could it?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eli figured it was Marnie he heard squealing to a stop at the curb and went to the front door to have a look. Yep. Her, all right. His house was built down the hill a little, so he could stand in the covered porch of his entry and watch her long legs unfold out of the BMW, then her tush as she bent over and retrieved something from the backseat, which he hoped to God wasn’t that pink book she carried around. He’d had enough talk of weddings to last him a good long while.
Her arms full, Marnie bounced down the steps to his door and looked surprised when she saw him leaning up against the jamb. She smiled her big, infectious smile. “Hey.”
“You found it all right.”
“Of course.” She held out a bottle of wine, still grinning. “I also found the package store.”
“Thanks,” Eli said. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Yes, I should have. I practically invited myself for dinner. The least I could do is bring some wine.”
“That’s right, you did say feed me, didn’t you?”
“I did. And now that I have given you the wine to atone for my atrocious manners, you should invite me in.”
He smiled, stepped to one side, made a grand sweeping gesture to the door, and indicated she should proceed.
“Thank you,” she said, and flashed a pert little smile as she walked past him into the small foyer of his house and deposited her purse on the antique bench there.
“Wow. This is so cool, Eli!” she exclaimed as she walked into the living area from the foyer. “I never had you pegged for the hacienda style.”
“No? How’d you have me pegged?”
“I don’t know, something…really square,�
�� she said, making an outline of an invisible square with her hands. “Boxy.”
“I think I should be offended,” he said cheerfully as Marnie walked deeper into the living area.
She looked down at the saltillo tile, and up at the low-beamed ceiling, and then at the overstuffed furniture scattered about, the Mexican rugs and earthen pottery and the Mexican-style fireplace. “Damn,” she said appreciatively, looking at a painting above the fireplace. “You’ve been holding out.”
“How so?” he asked, walking from the living room into the kitchen, which was separated by a long bar covered in blue Mexican tile.
“Because this is really a fabulous place and you obviously have a flair for decorating. It’s so cozy. And you are not a cozy kind of guy.”
Eli laughed.
“All this time I thought you lived in a truck,” she said, stepping into the dining room. “You know, the lonesome cowboy scene.”
She had the lonesome part right, but he liked it that way. It was easy. Less complicated. No one stood him up at the altar.
“I mean, I am really surprised.”
“Hey,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not that bad.”
“Yes, you are,” she said earnestly.
He chuckled, put the wine on the countertop, and looked for a corkscrew.
Marnie moved to a bar stool and sat directly across from him. He heard the plop of her shoes against the tile as she kicked them off. “I guess it’s okay if I make myself at home?” she chirped.
“Could I stop you?” he asked as he poured her a glass of wine.
“No.”
Eli smiled and handed her the glass.
Marnie sniffed it, swirled it around in the glass, then slowly sipped it. Her face lit up with pleasure. “Not bad.”
He poured a glass for himself, sipped it, and thought it tasted like all the wine he’d ever drunk, and wondered if it would be all right to put it aside and get a beer, or if Marnie would get her feelings hurt. He figured her to be a little sensitive and decided to choke the stuff down.
“So,” he asked, “did you manage to get anything done today, or were you too distracted by Vince’s balls?”
“Ha ha. As a matter of fact, he put on shorts and deprived me of the opportunity to study his balls further. I did, however, have ample opportunity to study Olivia’s breasts. Her towel just wouldn’t stay put.”
“Oh?”
“Pull your eyebrows down from your forehead.” Marnie laughed. “There was nothing too exciting.”
Actually, Eli knew that. Give him a woman with Marnie’s breasts any day.
“I got a lot done today,” Marnie continued. “Olivia and I have some shopping to do, but the rest of it I can handle on my own. You are now free to commence canyoning with your movie star friends.”
“That’s great,” Eli said, and lifted a glass in a victory toast. “But they’re not my friends.”
“Why not? Don’t tell me they get under your skin. They’re really nice people.”
What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her—she wouldn’t be around them long enough to watch them morph into assholes. Besides, a beaming Marnie was lifting her glass in a toast.
“To me,” she said. “I am a kick-ass wedding planner.”
“And modest, too.”
She laughed. “Let’s toast to no more surprises.”
“I’ll definitely drink to that,” Eli readily agreed. “Speaking of which…what’s the lighting going to set us back?”
“About fifty thousand,” Marnie said cheerfully. “But don’t worry. I’m working on a final budget. We can squeeze everything in. Even the arch.”
“I don’t think you’ve factored in the costs of transportation,” he warned her.
“Oh, but don’t you?” she asked pertly. “As a matter of fact, Cooper is helping me with that.” Obviously pleased with herself, she sipped her wine and then beamed at him so brightly that he could feel it all the way to his toes. “Cooper is very helpful. And very good with numbers.”
Coop was good with nice long legs. Eli made a mental note to give him a call later and tell him to keep his mitts off the wedding planner.
“So what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
The girl was not shy. Eli liked that. “How about salmon?”
“Oooh, salmon.”
He laughed. “I’ll take that as an okay.” You never had to guess what Marnie was thinking. Now Trish…he was always trying to guess what she was thinking. He used to have the feeling that she was doing the actress thing and practicing different moods and expressions on him, because he never knew which way the wind was blowing. Marnie? It was always blowing, that was for sure, and he smiled to himself as he walked to the fridge and started to pull stuff out.
She got quiet, which was very unusual, and he glanced over his shoulder to see what she was doing. She had pulled out a scrapbook he’d been working with and was studying the photos. TA made scrapbooks of their stunts so they’d have an idea of what the stunt setups looked like. When they were in the planning stages of a new script, they looked back to the things they’d done for ideas and tips.
“Wow,” she said, pointing at a picture. “That’s huge.”
The only bad thing about the scrapbook was that there were lots of pictures of him in there doing something extreme. Eli couldn’t stand it—he moved to the bar and leaned over to have a look. “Oh yeah, that,” he said, and walked back to the counter next to the fridge.
“Oh yeah, that? What that?”
“Vin Diesel movie. It was pretty intense.” It had been more than intense. He’d almost killed himself on that set, flying through the air in futuristic war gear and slamming into a brick wall instead of landing on the hay bales like he was supposed to have done. He’d gotten a nasty concussion for it.
“What’s your favorite stunt?” she asked as she flipped through the pictures.
He thought about that for a minute. “I guess the Matrix films,” he said.
“Really?” She looked up. “You did those?”
“You look surprised.”
“I am, I think,” she said, looking thoughtful. “I mean, I know you’re a stunt coordinator. I know you do extreme sports. It’s obvious just looking at you that you’re athletic—”
It was? He inadvertently looked down at himself.
“But I just can’t picture you doing it. You don’t seem like the kind of guy to go flying through air and spinning and twirling. You seem too…uptight for that.”
“Uptight? I’m not uptight,” he protested.
“I think you are—at least a little,” she said breezily.
Okay, she had him. He grinned. “Maybe a little. But I love the thrill of those big movie stunts. It’s exhilarating. It’s the best kind of sport there is.”
She smiled alluringly, and slowly closed the scrapbook. “I know an exhilarating sport I’d like to try,” she said huskily.
Eli’s male antenna went straight up. He turned and faced her fully. “And what sport would that be?”
“Canyoning,” she said instantly. “It sounds like a blast.” She picked up her wineglass, slid off the bar stool, and padded into the kitchen to check out what he was doing. “I could really get into canyoning.”
“No,” Eli said.
“Why not?”
“Too many liability issues.”
“I swear I won’t hurt myself. I’m pretty athletic. I can do it.”
“Marnie. You couldn’t even climb a rope, remember?”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I wasn’t prepared for that. I’ll learn how before we go, I promise.”
“Nope. Not this time,” he said, and threw onions into a pan.
“Eli,” she cried. “Come on,” she said, a little softer, and when he turned around, she was standing right there, the wineglass in her hand, her maple eyes sparkling. “Come on, dude…wouldn’t you have fun sliding down some slippery little slope with me?”
Okay. Eli was not exactly a novice when it cam
e to women coming on to him—it happened more than he cared to admit. But there was something about this woman that was really stirring his blood, and he wasn’t certain if he liked it or not.
But he did like her neck, he thought, glancing down at the long, slender column. And her breasts, round perky things that were, at the moment, peeking up at him through the fabric of her dress. And he liked her smile a whole lot, he thought, lifting his gaze from her boobs to that pert mouth, and that cute little nose, and those giant maple pancake eyes with dark lashes.
So what was it again that he didn’t like? She was a damn good-looking woman. She was giving off all the signs of wanting to do him. His wanker was voting yes. So what the hell was his problem?
Oh right…he liked Marnie. That’s what was wrong with this deal. No, really, he liked her a whole lot. What he didn’t like was going anywhere near liking her. No way, not again. At least not yet. He still hadn’t figured it all out.
Unfortunately, Marnie had other ideas. They seemed to have created one of those highly charged instances that made a guy’s hair stand up on the back of his neck, and to make matters worse, she moved closer. He could feel some very sexy vibes coming off her body. “Do you think I’m being too forward?” she asked in all seriousness.
“Yes.”
“Oh,” she said, and smiled like she thought that was a compliment. “So…do you mind?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“I’m not sure,” he said. But he didn’t move. Not even an inch.
Marnie grinned and lifted her hand and poked him through the open collar of his chest. “For the record, I don’t usually come on to guys.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because, Eli McCain, there is something about you that just begs for it,” she said softly, and rose up on her toes, lifted her face, and very lightly, very easily, pressed her lips to his.
It was just a feathery little kiss. But it struck like a bolt of lightning, in every vein, in every neuron. And as he was getting used to the idea, Marnie caught his collar in her hand and pulled him closer as she pressed her lips a little more urgently against his, flicking her tongue against the seam of his lips.