by Daphne Clair
Devin leaned back a little. ‘You seem to be in a hurry. It’s not as though the story is topical.’
‘I have a draft script, most of my crew almost ready to go, and I thought I had backing in the bag, but at the last minute I missed out after all.’
‘How much do you need?’
When she told him, he didn’t blink or move, but it was a second or two before he spoke. ‘That’s a lot of money.’
It was an enormous amount to her, but he was accustomed to dealing with sums that sported mind-boggling numbers of noughts. ‘I don’t know where else I could find the finance at short notice. And it’s not actually a huge budget for a film.’ She rushed on in the face of his stony silence. ‘It isn’t a big story with a cast of thousands and lots of special effects, but it could be an award winner, and do well overseas. The thing is, if we don’t go into production soon the people I’ve lined up will have to take other work. Even Craig—’
‘Craig?’ A frown raked between his brows.
‘I want him to play the witness.’ And he wanted the part too. She was under no illusion that it was for her sake alone he’d pushed her into contacting Devin. She pulled several folded pages from her bag. ‘I know most of the names won’t mean much to you, but this is a short description of the project, with a list of potential cast and crew members and their credits. If you need me to explain anything…’
Devin nodded, and skimmed the pages while she watched, holding her breath.
Finally he looked up at her. ‘I take it you’ve explored every other avenue before coming to me.’
‘Everyone and anybody I could think of.’
‘You went to people who know about the film business and they all turned you down.’
Shannon said frankly, ‘I guess they weren’t willing to invest that kind of money in a director with only one feature credit to my name. But I’ve lots of experience with my own short films and several assistant director credits. If they’d give me the chance I can do this. Or if you would…’
‘A chance to the tune of millions of dollars.’
‘It’s a drop in the bucket to you!’
Devin laughed. ‘Quite a few drops, in fact.’ He stood up, strolled across the carpet and back, stopping within a few feet of her, regarding her with a disconcerting stare as if he wanted to see into her mind, her heart. ‘This really matters to you.’
‘I know you never thought much of my career, but it means a lot to me—’
‘That I do know,’ he said, ‘since it’s the reason you left me.’
‘Not the only reason.’ But she didn’t want to get into that argument. There were dangerous waters there with hidden shoals. ‘The thing is, will you help or am I wasting my time?’
‘That depends,’ he said, regarding her almost absently for a few seconds. A silky, ominous note in his voice, he said, ‘What are you offering me in return?’
A tremor ran through her. Warning bells were ringing somewhere deep inside her mind. ‘If it’s a success you could make a pretty good profit.’
‘A big if.’
Shannon couldn’t dispute that. But she guessed Devin would make certain that if anyone gained financially from the venture, he did.
She tilted her head at a defiant angle. ‘I can do it,’ she reiterated, trying to infuse all her certainty into the words.
‘You have great faith in yourself.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do.’
Something complicated flickered across his face. ‘I remember those words,’ he said softly. ‘But it didn’t take you long to forget them.’
For a moment she was lost. Then she flushed. ‘That isn’t true! And it has nothing to do with this. We’re talking about a deal here, a business deal.’
‘You wouldn’t have come to me if we hadn’t had a personal relationship.’
She said fervently, ‘Believe me, if I’d known anyone else who could afford to help me I’d have gone to them first.’
A gleam entered the dark eyes. ‘So I’m a last resort.’
Had she offended him? Bad tactics. Trying to sound humble, she said, ‘Put that way, it sounds like an insult. I didn’t mean it to be. I just don’t like asking favours…of anyone.’
‘Especially me.’ His face as usual revealed little of what he was thinking.
‘I know we parted in anger, but after three years surely we can behave like civilised adults.’
Devin smiled, a slight, contained movement of his beautiful masculine mouth. ‘If you can, I can.’
‘Then will you think about this?’ Shannon hoped she didn’t sound as if she were begging. Trying for a more businesslike manner, she offered, ‘I can draw up a formal proposal if you like, draft a contract.’
‘I’d prefer my own lawyer to do that, I think.’
‘Then you will think about it?’ What the hell if she was begging? She would get down on her knees if necessary.
‘I don’t suppose you have any collateral to offer,’ he asked, ‘or guarantees?’
Shannon chewed on her lower lip. ‘No. I have a car, but my flat’s rented. I spent everything I had getting the script pulled together and hustling for grants or commercial backing.’
‘I see.’ He was looking at her in a speculative way that made her uneasy. Maybe he enjoyed watching her squirm.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘if you’re stringing me along I wish you’d just tell me it’s no go. I’ll find someone else…somehow.’
‘Don’t be so hasty. I haven’t said no.’
‘But you’re not saying yes!’
‘I need a little time to consider your…proposition. And maybe,’ he added slowly, ‘I have one of my own.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘How badly do you want this money?’
‘You know I’m desperate. You said so yourself.’
He seemed to be looking through her rather than at her. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but Devin had never been easy to read. His emotions were hidden behind his classic, slightly austere features.
At last he spoke. ‘I’ll give you the money, but there’s a condition.’
About to say, Anything! Shannon curbed the rash impulse. ‘As long as it’s not creative control over the project I can probably meet it.’
‘Oh, you can meet it all right. All you need to do is say yes.’
‘Yes to what? If you want your name in the credits I can bill you as co-producer if you like.’
A strange, unsettling smile lurked on his mouth. ‘Not that.’
Shannon shook her head. ‘Then what do you want?’
For a second or so he kept her on tenterhooks. Then he said, without any change in inflection, ‘I want you, Shannon.’
CHAPTER THREE
SHANNON stared, the significance of the words sinking in. ‘You don’t mean…’
Surely he wasn’t suggesting what she thought he was.
Devin said, in that same level, apparently reasonable tone, ‘I mean exactly what I said. Do you have a problem?’
It was a moment before her voice would work, and when it did it was higher and shriller than she’d intended it to be.
‘Damn right I have a problem! You can’t ask me to agree to that!’
‘I can ask you to do anything I please.’ He thrust both hands into his pockets and rocked back slightly on his heels, his eyes focused on her face. ‘I can’t compel you to agree, of course. The choice is entirely yours.’
She stood up, her knees shaking. ‘If this is a joke, you know what you can do with it.’
‘You surely know me better than that.’
She gathered up her bag, straightened and stared at him with angry, indignant eyes. ‘You can’t possibly expect me to treat this seriously.’
Devin shrugged. ‘Take it or leave it.’
Of course she couldn’t take it. Nobody in their right mind would accept such a barbarous bargain. ‘You know I won’t!’ she snapped.
‘What’s to stop you?’ His voice tu
rning low and coaxing, he said, ‘I’ve missed you, Shannon. I’ve missed…this.’
He reached for her, in almost leisurely fashion, and to her later shame and despair she scarcely resisted when he drew her into his arms. One hand still clutching her purse, she instinctively raised her arms, checking herself before they went around him.
But when his mouth found hers, with a remembered confident persuasion, her heart tumbled over, and within moments her lips opened beneath his.
It was a kiss of surprising gentleness, seductive and slow but very thorough. Her eyes fluttered closed, the dancing harbour lights seeming imprinted on her lids, and she could have sworn the room was revolving in a sensuous waltz.
When Devin relinquished her mouth and she opened her eyes in a dazed stare, she saw him looking back at her with a questioning and grave expression. His eyes glittered and there was colour in his lean cheeks, the underlying bones appearing more prominent. ‘Looks like I’m not the only one.’
He brought his mouth down again to hers, but this time she pushed against him, trying to break free, very nearly in a panic.
Although he didn’t release his hold, his mouth lifted, his eyes burning. ‘You don’t hate me,’ he said, his voice like heated black satin. She could almost feel it brush over her skin—they were so close that his breath touched her still parted lips.
She whispered, her shocked eyes held by his mesmerising gaze, ‘I never said I hated you.’
She pulled away from him, trying to maintain some equilibrium. Devin let his hands drop from her waist, brushing over her hips before he let her go. ‘Would it be so hard to accept my condition?’
‘You really do mean it,’ she said in disbelief. ‘You’re offering me money in return for…for—’
‘For being with me again. It wouldn’t be too much of a hardship, would it?’ His expression was curiously watchful. ‘Why don’t you stay tonight?’
She moistened her lips. ‘You make it sound so easy.’
Devin inclined his head. ‘It’s very simple. You say yes, we…go to bed, make love. Just like old times.’
‘And tomorrow,’ she queried, her throat raw, ‘you’d give me a cheque? Payment for sex?’
He blinked, as if she’d shocked him. His eyes narrowed. ‘For one night? Your price is too high.’
‘One night or many, it makes no difference,’ she pointed out, her voice shaking. ‘Your…condition is unacceptable.’
‘You’ve misunderstood me.’
‘How?’ she demanded. He’d been pretty explicit, she thought.
‘I want more than sex. More than one night. I want you back in my life, Shannon. In my home. My bed.’
‘Why?’
Devin looked down for a moment as if she’d caught him unawares with the question. ‘Why?’ he repeated. Then, slowly, ‘Call it…a trial reconciliation.’
She looked around the coldly glossy designer-created apartment he called home now. He couldn’t be serious. Despite the devastatingly sexy kiss she couldn’t help suspecting some other motive than a sudden overwhelming desire to attempt a renewed relationship.
‘A trial?’ she repeated. ‘For how long?’
‘As long it takes…’
‘To make the film? It could be five or six months!’ She knew she sounded appalled.
A shadow of annoyance showed in his eyes. ‘That’s the deal,’ he said curtly. ‘Don’t pretend it would be so enormous a sacrifice.’ Arrogantly he added, ‘You still want me.’
She could hardly deny that. Not after the way she’d succumbed to his kiss.
‘You know I want your money,’ she said, fighting for some sort of equilibrium. ‘And you’re saying you’d be willing to give it to me if I agree to…sell myself to you?’ Her whole being revolted at the idea, and she had to question his motive. He’d had three years to suggest a revival of their marriage without resorting to a kind of extortion that was guaranteed to arouse her hostility.
‘You’re making it sound sordid,’ he said shortly.
‘You were the one who did that!’ she said with scorn. ‘I just want to make sure we both know what the terms are.’ Surely he could see that his blatant attempt at manipulation could only backfire—if he was genuinely interested in a reconciliation. ‘I assume,’ she said, in an attempt to make him see the enormity of his suggestion, ‘you’d have it written into the contract and signed by witnesses?’
He said stiffly, ‘This would be a private arrangement. Between the two of us.’
‘I don’t suppose it would stand up in court anyway.’
She shouldn’t even be discussing it. ‘I’d like to go home now,’ she said. ‘Maybe you could call me a taxi.’
‘I’ll take you.’ His tone was brusque and he didn’t move immediately, but when she turned toward the door he followed and opened it for her, blocking her way. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘what happened to Duncan Hobbs?’
‘He was found guilty, though there was considerable public outrage about the verdict.’
‘So what do you think? Was he guilty?’
‘I don’t know. There are some strange gaps in the prosecution case.’
He nodded slightly, then stepped back, and as she passed him he said, ‘Think about my offer. You can phone me at the office during the day, or here anytime. If I’m not around leave a message and I’ll get back to you.’
They rode to her flat in silence and she bade him an almost inaudible goodnight, slipping into the lighted hallway and leaning against the closed door as she heard his footsteps recede down the short pathway and then the faint sound of his car driving away.
She could still feel Devin’s kiss on her lips, and his masculine scent was in her nostrils, lingering.
Imagination, she told herself, and walked to the bathroom, switched on the light and saw herself in the mirror over the basin. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, her eyes lustrous and the pupils large, dark, mysterious. Her mouth had lost the pink gloss she’d smoothed on before leaving, but her lips were red and full. She looked like a woman who had just left her lover.
Closing her eyes, she doused her face with cold water. How could he make her look like that with a single kiss? How could he make her heart beat faster, her blood run hot and swift in her veins, her whole being flood with longing?
She had got over the break-up of her marriage, gone on with her life, closed off the memories, except for those that surfaced in unguarded sleep.
The whole thing was impossible.
But, an insidious voice from deep within whispered, people do change. I’ve changed. Maybe he has too.
Not so much that he’d lost the ability to take advantage of any weakness in an opponent and move in for the kill.
They had parted bitterly and she’d assumed that Devin had cut his losses.
Yet tonight he’d said he wanted her back.
She dried her face and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. Could she believe that he’d simply missed her, and that seeing her again had triggered renewed feelings, perhaps as powerful and disturbing as those he’d aroused in her?
He hadn’t mentioned love, she recalled uneasily, hanging up the towel. He’d always found her sexually stimulating and still did, no doubt about that. Her skin tingled at the remembrance of the lambent flame in his eyes.
Had she really expected that he would give her money for nothing?
No, he’d have his pound of flesh. Her flesh.
Shannon shook herself. It would be a crazy situation to put herself in. Crazy. Only a masochist would do it.
And she was no masochist.
In the hour before sleep rescued her, and throughout next day, she couldn’t stop herself from going over and over the conversation. Couldn’t school her body to indifference at the memory of the unexpected kiss.
All the following week, in any moment she could spare from working on a TV commercial she been commissioned to direct, she revisited every avenue that she’d already exhausted of raising the money she needed, but ev
en the modest success of Heart of the Wilderness wasn’t enough to open any doors, except for vague suggestions to resubmit her proposal the following year.
The commercial involved children, dogs and endless bars of chocolate. It paid the rent, but after five days Shannon was exhausted, never wanted to see another chocolate bar, and was less than enamoured of both children and dogs.
Anyway, children had long been on the list of things she preferred not to think about too much.
On Friday night she was lying propped against cushions on her couch, drinking coffee and poring over the script of her beloved project. As she scribbled notes on the pages, thinking about camera shots and angles, she had to wonder why she bothered. Odds were that the Hobbs story was going to be filmed by someone else, and her dream would die.
When the telephone rang she picked up the receiver listlessly and gave her name.
‘Shannon,’ said a deep, well-remembered voice.
Instantly all her senses were alert. She sat up. ‘Devin?’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m…fine.’
‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes.’ Why did he want to know?
‘I haven’t heard from you.’
‘No.’ There wasn’t much she could add to that. Once or twice she’d toyed with the idea of leaving a blunt, even rude, repudiation of his offer on the answer machine, and at other times she’d been tempted to tell him she’d accept any terms he cared to lay down. But her silence should have told him she had no intention of taking up his preposterous offer.
After a short pause he said, ‘Have you found a backer?’
‘No.’
‘Feel like going out for supper?’
‘I’m tired.’ True. ‘I’ve had a hectic week.’
‘Me too. I could bring a pizza and come round.’ His voice dropped into seduction mode. ‘Pepperoni, pineapple, black olives…’
He knew all her weaknesses. She hadn’t thought she was hungry, but now her mouth was watering.