Jacob shifted Ariel to her feet and stood, as well. He shook the older man’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you, Mr. Brinkman. I’m looking forward to watching you in action.”
The three of them exited the rowdy restaurant and stepped out into the humid night air. Brinkman pinched Ariel’s cheek. “It’s your big day tomorrow, Ariel. I don’t like to toot my own horn, but after this movie, I doubt your life will ever be the same.”
Ten
Ariel watched the director walk toward his villa as she and Jacob took a fork in the path that led to theirs. “I don’t want to let him down,” she said, feeling the inevitable onslaught of nerves. “I know he got an earful from people that harassed him for hiring me.”
No one was around to see the fact that Jacob wasn’t touching her. No hand-holding, no stolen kisses on a balmy night.
“He’s a smart man, Ariel. He sees something in you that you may not see in yourself. Untapped potential.” He held her elbow briefly in a dark patch and then released her. “I didn’t get to meet your love interest… John? Was that his name?”
“His flights got messed up. He’ll barely make it here in time for the morning shoot.”
“Poor guy.”
“Yeah. Talk about starting out on the wrong foot.”
She wished they were a normal couple on vacation so she could justify lingering outside. Instead, she waited for Jacob to unlock their door and then moved past him to enter. “I hope Rod knows what he’s doing, hiring me and an unknown. Lord knows I don’t want to be responsible for Brinkman’s first flop.” It was a dismal notion.
Kicking off her shoes, she padded to the minifridge for a bottle of water. The king-size bed still dominated the suite, practically shouting an invitation for sexual mayhem. But unless Jacob crumbled, and that wasn’t likely, this room would see no action tonight.
She picked at the label on the water bottle, unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to go with me in the morning. Rod wants to shoot a sunrise scene, so we’ll be on set before daybreak. Stay here and sleep.”
He kicked off his shoes, as well, along with his socks, and reclined on the sofa with his hands behind his head, his large, masculine feet propped on the glass-topped coffee table. “I came to Antigua to look after you,” he said, his gaze intense and unnerving. “And I survived many a brutal shift as an intern. So don’t worry about me.”
She shrugged. “If you say so.”
“I can’t decide if you’re an extrovert or an introvert.”
Her conversational style must be rubbing off on him. The sudden jump in topic threw her. “Can’t I be both?”
“Most people are one or the other.”
The dimly lit room was giving her ideas…dangerous ideas. Reaching over to switch on a lamp, she curled into a chair opposite Jacob, wishing she had the right to snuggle down beside him instead. By all rights, she should be in the shower by now. The alarm was going to go off at an obscene hour. But she couldn’t tear herself away.
“It depends on the situation,” she said, taking another swallow of water. “I love people and I enjoy socializing. But sometimes I get really tired, and I have to shut down for a while.”
“Makes sense.”
She yawned. “Sorry.”
“Go get ready for bed, Ariel. I’ll take a turn in the bathroom when you’re tucked away under the covers.”
She stared at him, gnawing her lower lip, a habit she had kicked long ago. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “And I want you to know that I understand your ground rules.”
“And you plan to follow them?”
“That, too.”
A tiny smile teased his lips and disappeared. “Scram, Ariel.”
She departed reluctantly, closing the French doors behind her as she entered the bedroom. After rummaging in her suitcase, she extracted the least seductive piece of sleepwear she owned and headed for the shower.
* * *
Jacob was in trouble. Imagining him and Ariel in the dark, on opposite sides of a mattress, gave him heartburn. The only thing holding his hunger in check at the moment was the knowledge that tomorrow was a very important day. Ariel needed her sleep.
When he heard her call out, he opened the door and took a deep breath. “I’ll be quick,” he promised. “You can turn out the—” He stopped dead, his heart lodged in his throat.
Ariel was standing beside the bed, bending over to fiddle with the radio alarm clock. She was wearing a faded oversize T-shirt that was so big on her, the neckline had slipped off one soft, sloping shoulder. “This stupid thing won’t work. I guess I’ll use my phone instead.”
He turned away, ruefully aware that the image was imprinted on his brain. Was she wearing any undies?
Damn. He grabbed what he needed and locked himself in the bathroom away from temptation. After an icy cold shower, he was no less agitated. But when he could no longer think of an excuse to stay away, he opened the door and saw that Ariel was sound asleep, the covers tucked to her chin.
He walked around the bed and quietly turned out her bedside lamp. Touching her was not an option, though his hand tingled with the urge to do so. This close he could smell the fragrance of strawberries.
She was a fascinating woman, one moment shy and vulnerable, the next mischievous and slyly seductive. If he had been in the market for a relationship, Ariel would fit the bill. But he liked his quiet clinic and the comforting routines of his work. And Ariel was nothing more than a shooting star lighting up his firmament for a brief, exhilarating moment.
Perhaps thirty was too young to settle for safety. But he had tasted the depths of despair twice in his life, and he wasn’t eager to suffer again. Besides, Ariel needed someone in her life who could match her openness and exuberance. Jacob had to be strong enough to keep both of them from falling into a relationship that was doomed from the start.
Allowing himself one brief caress, smoothing her hair from her soft cheek, he reminded himself of all the reasons he couldn’t have her. Then he returned to his side of the bed and crawled under the covers with a movie star.
* * *
Ariel slept soundly and woke before the alarm. Quietly turning it off, she slid out of bed. Years ago she had taught herself to wake at whatever time necessary to meet her schedule. Getting ready took no time at all. After splashing her face with water and brushing her teeth, she threw on black yoga pants and a thin fleece pullover.
Jacob stirred when she came out of the bathroom. “What time is it?”
“Still the middle of the night. Go back to sleep.”
He scraped his hands though his hair and threw back the sheet, sitting up on the side of the bed. “Coffee?” he asked with a gravelly voice.
“Harriet will have it in the car. It’s a short drive. We’re shooting in the next cove. Are you sure you want to go?”
He stood up. His broad chest was bare. Thin cotton sleep pants, still with a crease from the package, hung low on his narrow hips. “Give me five,” he growled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
She put a hand over her heart when he was out of sight, amazed that it hadn’t punched its way out of her chest. Bare-chested, Jacob Wolff looked more like a mercenary than a doctor of medicine.
The man was as good as his word. He joined her at the door just as the indomitable Harriet pulled up, driving the vehicle in which she had picked them up at the airport. Her subdued greeting baffled Ariel. Trying her best to be conciliatory, she smiled at her newly-minted P.A. “Good morning, Harriet. Thanks for being so prompt.”
Harriet’s expression was hard to read in the single porch light, but her body language was no more relaxed than it had been yesterday.
Ariel and Jacob climbed into the backseat. A small insulated carafe was lodged between them in a cardboard box. Jacob fell on it with a muttered thank God. He poured two cups and handed Ariel one. She drank it hot and black, wincing when it hit her empty stomach.
Grabbing a handful of granola from an open bag, she fo
rced it down. Nerves curled in her belly, making her feel sick. She huddled into her corner and stared out into the dark.
She flinched when Jacob’s warm hand landed on her thigh. “Relax, Ariel. Are you always this jumpy?”
Feeling his touch through a scant layer of cloth shocked her out of her intense introspection. She laughed shakily. “Sometimes worse. It won’t last. By day three or four, we’ll all be settled into a routine. But it’s always rough in the beginning.”
He rubbed her back, holding his coffee cup like a lifeline in his other hand. “Is this where I’m supposed to tell you to imagine all of your co-stars in their underwear?”
She giggled. “Please don’t.”
His hand linked with hers, offering her his quiet strength. It was nice having a companion. Though Jacob was a fake boyfriend, she suddenly understood why so many stars took their families on location. The comfort of a familiar face would go a long way toward easing stress.
Harriet rounded a curve in the road and pulled off to the right, bumping down a newly graded track that led to a roped-off area near the beach. The moon hung low on the horizon now, but there was plenty of artificial light as Ariel and Jacob exited the car.
Ariel took it all in, feeling the sizzle of excitement new projects always generated. Jacob stood beside her, downing his third cup of coffee. She pointed to a large tent. “You’ll find food and anything else you need over there. If you want to catch a few more z’s, the car won’t be locked. I have to do hair and makeup. Will you be okay?”
He surprised her with a soft kiss that tasted of creamer and warm male. “I’m a big boy. Don’t worry about me. Go do your thing.”
She touched his cheek, loving his confidence, his inherent strength. “I’m glad you’re here.” Some men were threatened by Ariel’s success, but that wasn’t Jacob’s style. For a moment, she envied the unfortunate woman who had known the security of Jacob’s love and commitment.
He rolled his shoulders and stretched. “Me, too. Now quit stalling. You’re going to be great.”
She walked away smiling, a quick glance over her shoulder telling her that Jacob tracked her with his eyes. She felt the intensity of his regard and wondered what he was thinking. Moments later the frenzy of trying to get everyone ready to catch the fleeting morning light demanded her attention. But despite the confusion, she was conscious that Jacob Wolff stood guard.
Eleven
Jacob prowled the fringes of pandemonium, marveling at how dozens of individuals appeared to know exactly what to do in their own little corner of the production process. Rod barked out orders, his nicotine-roughened voice made worse by lack of sleep.
Ariel had disappeared into a row of tents that bulged at the seams with all manner of staff coming and going. The early hour had done nothing to dim her beauty. Even on five hours of sleep, she’d been clear-eyed and rosy-cheeked when he first saw her this morning.
After scouting the layout, he rounded up a camp chair and parked it in a spot where he could see what was going on, but wouldn’t be in the way.
When Ariel appeared forty-five minutes later, he didn’t recognize her at first. It was only when Rod threw up his hands and made a gesture of obeisance that Jacob understood who she was. Viola, the madam. The courtesan.
She was dressed in period clothing, her purple satin dress the shade of ripe plums. Her hair was done up in a complicated chignon, with artfully curled tendrils at her nape and ears.
Upon closer inspection, Jacob saw that the bodice dipped dangerously low in front, exposing smooth breasts that had been plumped up to showcase a voluptuous figure.
His mouth dried. Ariel never even looked in his direction. She and Brinkman were deep in discussion, him leading her to a spot on the beach, Ariel posing with the wind ruffling her skirts and exposing a teasing glimpse of leg now and again.
John England was no kid. He was six-three, broad in the chest and as blond as Ariel. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. Quietly deferential to the director and to his leading lady, he followed instructions quickly and well.
The faint light of dawn tinted the horizon when Brinkman set the cameras rolling.
Ariel faced off with the naval officer, haughty pride in every line of her body.
“I won’t be blackmailed,” she said, fully in character. “I’ve told you. My body’s not for sale.”
Her tormentor radiated power and authority, along with a lustful hunger. His hands closed with bruising strength over her narrow shoulders. “I can shut down your little operation, Miss Viola. Turn all those pretty trollops back into serving wenches and laundresses. Is that what you want?”
Viola struggled to free herself.
The officer, Landon, yanked her back. “You’ve pranced around the shipyard in your fancy clothes with your teasing laugh. What did you think would happen? I’ve three ships of single men, sailors far from home and family. Most of them can’t afford what you and your lightskirts are offering. But I can, Viola. And you’ll meet my terms or suffer the consequences.”
He dragged her against his chest, covering her mouth in a wild, dominant kiss. Viola beat at his shoulders with her fists. “I’m a lady,” she cried. “You can’t do this.”
Releasing her slowly, he stepped back and wiped a hand across his mouth. John England did an impressive job of portraying a man shaken by the power of that embrace.
“I can and I will,” he said quietly. “I’ll come to you tonight. After dark. Be waiting.”
He turned abruptly and strode down the beach, disappearing around an outcropping of rocks. Viola lifted her face to the sky, tears streaming down her face. Against the backdrop of the ocean, she looked small, defenseless.
“Cut.”
Jacob jerked, coming back to reality with a jump at the sound of Rod Brinkman’s voice. Jacob had been so caught up in the story that he’d lost all sense of time. The camera crew scurried to block another take before the light became too bright. John walked back. A wardrobe assistant adjusted Ariel’s dress. And the scene commenced again.
Ariel was amazing. She had been standing ankle deep in foamy water, but she never once complained. Though she and John England had never met before today, the chemistry between them was electric. Jacob felt her fear, her frustration. And he empathized with Landon’s hunger.
The naval officer was an honorable man, a hero. Ariel had let Jacob read part of the script, and the story line was appealing. A man torn between what he knew was right and the driving urge to possess the lovely Viola.
The irony wasn’t lost on Jacob.
At eleven, the shoot wrapped. Ariel walked up to him, her hips swaying in the voluminous skirts of another era. She shivered, wet from the knees down. “What did you think?” she asked, her expression anxious.
For the benefit of their audience he pulled her close in a long, lazy kiss. His heart stumbled. His lungs gasped for air. Kissing Ariel was no innocent exercise. She was a siren, luring him into deep waters. He knew exactly how the fictional Landon felt.
“You were spectacular,” he said simply. “Even with the distraction of cameras everywhere and all the hustle and bustle of the set, I can already see that Brinkman is right. This film will make you a star.”
Her saucy grin belied the fatigue in her posture. “I’m already a star,” she pointed out, deliciously adorable in her braggadocio.
“A superstar then, a nova.”
“That’s better.”
Her smug smile made him laugh. “Can you leave now? Are you done for the moment?”
“Definitely. I’ll change in a flash. You tell Harriet we’re ready.”
She fell asleep in the car on the way back, her head on his shoulder. Jacob was the only one who knew that Ariel had been so ill her stamina was not back up to par. He held her against his chest, concerned that she was pale.
Harriet met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Shall I take you straight to your villa, or would you like to grab something at the restaurant first?”
He debated rapidly. “I think we’ll do room service for today.”
She nodded. “Okay, then.”
When they pulled up in front of their lodging, Ariel didn’t wake up. Concern gripped Jacob’s belly, but he dared not let it show. “I don’t think she slept much,” he said lightly. “Nerves, I guess. I’ll carry her in.”
The P.A. didn’t comment, but her eyes were round. Jacob hoped she wasn’t a gossip. She held the door open for him and closed it as she left.
Housekeeping had already been in, so Jacob folded back the covers and deposited Ariel gently on her side of the bed. Her eyelashes fluttered. “Nap with me,” she commanded drowsily.
Jacob hesitated. He was exhausted. They were both fully dressed. “Don’t you want some lunch?” he asked, stalling until he could make a decision.
She closed her eyes. “Too tired to eat.” The muttered words were the last ones she spoke. Sleep claimed her. Curled up in a ball, clutching a down pillow in her arms, she looked younger than ever, her sunlit yellow hair tumbled around her face.
A giant fist squeezed his chest. He didn’t want to feel anything for Ariel but concern and admiration. Those were safe emotions. He couldn’t afford anything more. Not when his main concern was her well-being.
But the lure of holding her bested him. Toeing off his shoes, he climbed in beside her, pulling her against his chest and spooning their bodies. The last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was looking up at the ceiling and watching the dizzying twirl of the fan.
* * *
Ariel inhaled, dreaming of something wonderful. But the image slipped away as she awakened. Hard on the heels of that nebulous memory was an even more delightful reality.
Jacob Wolff lay in bed with her, holding her tightly, her cheek pillowed on his arm. She stayed perfectly still, savoring the sensation. He surrounded her with warmth. His big body dwarfed hers, creating a feeling of utter safety and, paradoxically, delicious danger.
She was frankly stunned that he had capitulated to her sleepy request. Fatigue must have weakened all those pesky morals and ethics. His hand cupped one of her breasts, stealing the breath from her lungs and making both of her nipples bead in helpless yearning.
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