by Alexa Aston
As he settled into the zone, he let his thoughts wander to tonight’s meeting with Monty Revere. He wanted to work with the Hollywood legend more than he’d let on. Dash had broken into films doing raunchy college comedies. He’d worked his way up to starring in good quality action films. Monty Revere had directed some of the best action-adventure films over the last twenty-five years. He’d made the careers of several actors, including Dash’s favorite—Craig Thompson. Dash often wondered how long Craig would’ve stayed in action films or if the actor would’ve segued into another genre. A tragic car accident ended the star’s life. Still, Dash screened Craig’s films on a regular basis, always learning something new when he watched them.
That was why tonight was so important. If he could land in Monty Revere’s new film, it would take him to a new level. The director’s films weren’t all bang-bang, smash and crash films. They had complicated plots and heroes who could think their way out of bad situations—even if they had to flex some muscle to do it. Dash wanted more for his career. He was in it for the long haul. Besides, he needed to make sure that Herc would always be taken care of.
He slowly dialed the treadmill down until his heart rate fell. Then he stopped it and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat that poured from him as he wandered back to the kitchen.
“Is there a party going on that I didn’t know about?”
Herc wore a wide smile as he helped Tim blend the protein shakes. Leo was scooping up omelets.
“I set the table, Dash,” Herc told him. “And I poured the OJ.”
“Good for you, buddy.” He ruffled Herc’s hair and slid into a seat.
Leo brought over their plates and Tim poured shakes for everyone.
As the four men sat around the table, Dash basked in the camaraderie that surrounded him.
He raised his OJ glass. “To men!” he proclaimed. “Lift your glass, Herc.”
His brother did as instructed and Leo and Tim joined in.
“To men!” they said and drank.
Dash didn’t give Ashley Franklin a second thought.
◆◆◆
Sydney watched the familiar streets of Santa Monica pass by. Her mother had loved this neighborhood because she felt it was as normal as you could get in LA. The houses were large but not monstrosities. The city had a good mix of wealthy people that were famous and unknown so they hadn’t been stopped on the streets as much when they were out doing errands.
A wave of sadness rushed over Sydney. She deliberately hadn’t thought about her mom in a long time. Losing her had changed the trajectory of her life. Sydney wondered how different things would’ve been if cancer hadn’t taken away the person she loved most.
The car turned onto her street. She noticed how various trees had grown. Everything had an air of familiarity about it but somehow it looked different at the same time.
The Uber driver repeated the house number she’d given him for confirmation and, moments later, they swung into the driveway. Her driveway. She remembered riding her bike up and down it. Helping Birch wash his car. She loved the brush that she used to rub circles around the white part of his tires. She remembered her brother turning the water hose on her and squealing as the cold stream hit her.
The car stopped and Sydney got out. The driver popped the trunk and removed her suitcase. She thanked him and watched him get back into the car and drive away. She faced the front door, knowing she needed to go in. Sydney forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she found herself on the porch.
Before she could ring the bell, the door swung open.
She drew a quick breath in. Her dad had gotten older. His salt and pepper hair now had way more salt in it. He’d be sixty next month, she remembered. His face was tanned as always but more wrinkled around his mouth and eyes. He looked thinner, too.
The megawatt smile he gave her was all Monty Revere.
Sydney found herself crushed against him in a bear hug so tight that she could hardly breathe. He released her and looked her up and down.
“I don’t like your hair this color,” he complained. “Your mother wouldn’t either. That’s one of the things I loved the most about her—that mane of auburn hair.”
“I don’t like it much either,” she admitted. “I’m ready to hit the salon tomorrow and claim my natural color.”
He slung an arm around her and took her suitcase handle with the other. “Come on in, Kid.”
They stepped into the large entryway. Sydney’s eyes went to the stairs. How many times had she run up and down them? Too many to count.
Her father closed the door and set her suitcase aside. He beamed at her.
“I’m so glad to have you home. I’ve missed you, Syd.”
She nodded. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long if you ask me but I’m not complaining. I’m just happy to see you here. Come on in.”
He led her into the spacious den. She looked around. Framed photographs were still scattered about the room. All of them were of her, Birch, and her mother. She sank into the brown leather sofa.
“So. How are you? Do you have a . . .”
“A wife?” he asked. “Not now. Not for a while, actually. Monica was the love of my life. I finally figured out I couldn’t replace her.”
Sydney remembered the rebound wife. Wanda, the makeup artist. He’d married her less than a year after her mother died. After their divorce, he married Kayla, the ex-wife of one of his director pals. They were still wed when Sydney left home.
“I guess Kayla was the last one you met. Then I lived with a couple of gals because alimony started getting expense. I did take on number four. Jan. She sold me my Porsche a few years ago. I still have the Porsche. It’s a great car.” He shrugged. “Jan? Well, she found somebody else. So, it’s just you and me, kid.”
“I’m glad.” She’d thought about what she wanted to say on the plane but nothing seemed right. Sydney opened her heart.
“I’ve always loved you, Dad, but you were driving me crazy with the parade of women.”
“I wanted to find you and your brother a new mom.”
“We didn’t need one,” she pointed out. “We only needed you.”
“I finally figured that out, too. I’m sorry I was too late. By then, you and your brother were gone.”
Sydney didn’t want to talk about Birch now. It still hurt too much.
“I guess I should tell you what I’ve been up to.”
“I know.” He gave her a sad smile. “I hired a PI after Craig died and you dropped off the face of the earth. I had to know where you were. If you were safe. He found you. Reported in every six months. I know about college. How you graduated magna cum laude. And first in your class at Yale Law. And . . . your marriage.”
“You kept track of me all these years?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to keep tabs on you. I knew you didn’t want to talk to me. But you’re my little girl, Syd. I needed to know you were okay, wherever you were and whatever you were doing.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know where I was,” she apologized. “I would say I regret not inviting you to my wedding but the guy turned out to be a piece of crap. His mother was even worse. I’m better off without him.”
Her dad came and sat beside her. He took her hand and stared down at it as he said, “I lost Monica. Birch. You. Craig. We’ve lost a lot of time, Syd. That’s behind us. You’re here. That’s good enough for me. I don’t want to hear about your past. Let’s take it from here and look forward to whatever’s ahead between us, okay?”
She squeezed his hand. “I can do that.”
“What are you gonna do with yourself? Still want to practice law?”
She chuckled. “I think that’s the last thing I want to do. I’m good at it but it bores me to tears. Besides, I’m not licensed in California.” She paused. “I’d like to work with you. On whatever film you’re involved with now. I want to write. After all these years of keeping it inside me, I’ve got a th
ousand characters screaming to get out.”
He beamed. “That’s great. I’m starting a new film soon. I lost my story boarder, else I’d show you those.”
“I could do that,” she volunteered. “Remember how I used to sit in on meetings? I’d draw up my own storyboards for your films. You used to get a kick out of them.”
“I’d forgotten about that. You know, I could really use you. Tell you what. I’ll let you read the script before I say anything. You can give me your thoughts. Either we can break it down together or I’ll let you have a whirl at it.”
He patted her knee. “I always hoped we’d work together one day.”
Sydney put a hand on top of his. “I guess that day finally arrived,” she said softly.
The doorbell sounded.
“Oh, I ordered out. Gino’s. Hope you still like pepperoni and mushroom.”
She grinned. “My favorite. I’ve dreamed of Gino’s pizza for years.”
He peeled off a few bills. “Grab the door, baby, and pay the guy. I’ll get us something to drink.”
Sydney stood. “Let’s eat in the kitchen. That’s my favorite room in this house.”
“I’ll set the table now,” he told her.
She went to the front door and opened it, seeing a large box and getting a whiff of nirvana. Without really looking at the delivery guy, she said, “Thanks,” and tried to hand him the cash as she reached for the box.
Then she noticed a pizza delivery van backing out of the driveway. No other cars were there. Curious, she raised her gaze and found herself mesmerized by electrifying, ice blue eyes. The man had jet black hair and the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. Her insides instantly melted. She’d never had such a physical reaction to a man. Any man.
“Who are you?” she asked.
CHAPTER 3
Who are you? Was she serious?
Every woman in America knew Dash DeLauria. He couldn’t pump his own gas anymore or run into Starbucks to grab a latte. He had a stylist come to his house when he needed a haircut. How could she not know who he was?
Whoever she was, she was hot. Despite the sleek navy business suit and conservative shell under it that made her look totally establishment. Despite the dull brown hair, which didn’t seem to go with the rest of her. The remaining package?
It was everything he liked.
She was very tall and at six-three, he liked a tall woman. She had flawless, incandescent skin. Green eyes the color of summer grass that popped. Without a doubt, she possessed the most kissable mouth he’d seen in a long time. He already itched to put his lips next to hers and take them for a spin.
“Who are you?” he replied, turning the tables back to her. Maybe she was Monty Revere’s personal assistant. Or accountant. She sure as hell wasn’t his housekeeper—but Dash would love to play house with her. Anytime.
“I asked first.” She eyeballed him calmly but he saw the pulse point jump in her throat. Despite her cool and collected outside, he had an effect on this woman.
“Who would you like me to be?” he asked, mimicking Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.
“Are you serious? You’re flirting with me? I don’t believe this.” Her eye roll would put any teenage girl to shame.
“Oh, baby, you’d know if I was flirting with you,” he teased, his interest in her growing by the minute. Dash was never interested in women. They were always interested in him.
She jerked the box from his hands and shoved the money at his chest. The minute she touched him, electric sparks shot through him like he’d never imagined.
Her eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped slightly. Ah, she must’ve felt it, too.
Dash put his hand over hers, which was still next to his chest. “I did pay for the pizza so I can take this off your hands.” He turned her hand over as her fingers involuntarily opened. He plucked the bills from her palm. Her hand fell away then grabbed the pizza again. He saw her fingers tighten on the box, which now acted as a barrier between them. Good thing because it made him think twice about moving closer to her.
He slipped the money in his pocket. “Did Monty order pizza for our meeting?”
“Meeting?” she echoed, her brow creasing.
“I’m here to talk with him about his new film.”
“Oh, no. I can’t believe I forgot,” a voice behind the woman said. Monty Revere appeared behind her. “Hello, Dash. I see you’ve met my daughter.”
Daughter? Dash dug far into his brain and came up with an image from his teenage years.
“You’re The Wild Child?” he blurted out.
With those words, a mask fell over her face. He’d definitely said the wrong thing. He remembered her because they were the same age. Sydney Revere’s image had been splashed everywhere a decade ago, maybe longer. Running with a fast crowd. Hitting all the cool nightclubs. Getting into all kinds of scrapes. Then she married his idol—Craig Thompson—who was old enough to be her father. They’d been in a fatal car accident not long after. Dash had been crushed by the news that Craig had died.
But The Wild Child? He didn’t remember hearing or reading anything about her after that. It was as if she dropped off the celebrity merry-go-round. He knew she’d survived the wreck but he couldn’t think of one mention of her since then.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just that Craig Thompson was someone I really looked up to. Someone I wanted to be like. I know you married him.” He shrugged as he looked her up and down. “You’re the opposite of wild.”
“You’re right about that,” she said frostily. Her words could’ve pushed all of LA into a new ice age. She turned without another word and walked away with the pizza box.
Dash couldn’t help but grin as he watched the gentle sway of her hips.
“You’ve done it now,” Monty said. “Oh, well. You might as well come in. I don’t think it could get worse.” He indicated for Dash to enter so he did.
Monty said, “I really forgot you were coming by. Sydney called from Boston earlier today and told me she was coming home.”
Dash saw tears well in the director’s eyes.
“She . . . she hasn’t been home since she was seventeen. We haven’t spoken in years. And when she called out of the blue?”
“I get it,” Dash said. “I don’t want to ruin your reunion. We can do this another time.”
“Actually, Sydney’s going to be working with me. She’ll have a big say in casting. Although right now, you probably have five strikes against you.”
“I am sorry about that The Wild Child comment.”
Monty put a hand on Dash’s shoulder. “I know you are, Son. It’s just that she left that behind a long time ago. There’s a lot more to Syd. Give her a chance.”
“I will. If she’s willing to give me one,” he said stubbornly.
“Let me go smooth the waters. Wait in here.” Monty pointed to a room so Dash went in and casually wandered around.
Framed photographs sat on every surface. He recognized Monica Revere, one of the most beautiful and talented actresses of her day. Dash realized how much Sydney favored her mother.
Except the daughter was even more beautiful. Even with the mousy hair.
He saw Sydney in her peach ballet tutu. Her neon pink swimsuit. Romping with a dog with a look of joy on her face. Several shots showed her with what he assumed must be her older brother. He didn’t remember anything about a brother and wondered if he also worked in the business.
Dash put his hands in his pockets and moved to the window. The backyard landscaping was lush, full of California fuchsia, Shaw’s agave, and Bush monkeyflowers. A large rectangular pool was the focus of the yard. Scattered lawn furniture in small pockets surrounded it. He wondered what brought Sydney Revere back to Hollywood after more than a decade of being away. It was interesting that she would be working on her father’s film.
It made Dash want the role even more than he had before. Because something deep inside told him that Sydney Revere was a woman he wanted to kn
ow.
“Dash? Want to come to the kitchen? We’re going to eat pizza and talk shop if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure.” He didn’t want to ask what magic the legendary director had worked in order for the three of them to be in the same room.
He followed Monty to a large, sunny room with copper pots hanging from the ceiling. A huge Cherrywood table stood in front of a bay window.
Sydney Revere sat at the table, a blank look on her lovely features.
“Can I get you something to drink? A beer, maybe?” Monty asked him.
“Water’s good for me,” Dash said easily. No one knew it, but he didn’t drink anymore.
Not after that night.
He went to the table and pulled out a chair on Sydney’s left. He sat and offered her his hand.
“We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Dash DeLauria.”
She took his hand and perfunctorily shook it. “I’m Sydney Br—” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m Sydney Revere. I’ll be storyboarding my dad’s new film.” She studied him for a moment. “What part are you up for? Why do you want it?”
Dash decided nothing but honesty would work with this woman.
“I bounced around Hollywood for a few years. Did some comedies. Moved into action films, which is more to my taste. Your dad is one of the best action directors in Hollywood. He’s got a proven track record. His movies have fast plotlines and top production quality. He hires great writers and Sadie Sistern has edited almost every one to perfection. I’m looking to move to a better type of film. Your dad is in my top three list of directors I’d like to work with.”
She gave him an appraising glance. “Bonus points for knowing about Sadie, even if you could’ve found her name on Wikipedia. What did you mean by ‘edited almost every one to perfection’? Which one wasn’t perfect?”
“Sadie’s the best. I meant that she missed out working with Monty on his first two films. She didn’t come on board until Look Back. She’s edited every movie he’s done since then.”