“Yeah. I want to sign onto this project, work with Vincent. I can handle it.”
“Fine,” he said, all business again. “Don’t forget, Linda from Inside in LA will be calling in about an hour for that piece she’s writing about you. Don’t mention anything about this yet. But you can use the ‘I’ve got an exciting project on the horizon’ line if you want.”
I rolled my eyes and gave a small laugh. “I know the drill, Lou. I’m no starry-eyed newbie.”
“Could have fooled me,” he grumbled. It was our common exchange, and I think he liked it as much as I did, but he followed up with another big sigh. “I’ll be in touch.”
I hung up and then sat back with a smile. I’d been “between projects” for the better part of two months now and was itching to get back to work. But more than that, I was thrilled at the prospect of working with Vincent again on something that sounded so awesome. It had been a long time since I’d signed onto a film that actually had me excited. And though I didn’t yet have the script, I was confident in its excellence. Vincent would accept nothing less.
The thing about working with people who demanded excellence was I could be completely sure of the level of quality without having all the details. That was a rare thing, and I didn’t take it for granted.
* * * *
Two hours later I’d done the phone interview with Linda and managed not to dig myself into a deeper hole. She’d been vetted by Lou before the interview, and she was good about not being overly tenacious. In turn I answered her questions honestly; I told her I was excited about an upcoming project and would be able to share details soon. I confirmed I would attend GLASFIC—the Greater LA Sci Fi Introspective Convention—next week, and that I’d be on the panel for Angel’s Fall, the spec/sci-fi film I’d costarred in that was slated for release in a few months.
When she brought up Spencer, trying to sneak it in, I’d managed to respond that I’d rather not talk about the prick, and refused to be baited when she tried to press. All in all, it was a good conversation, but I was happy when it was over.
I also had an email from Vincent, welcoming me on board Talking with Ghosts and giving me a lot more details than Lou had. The contract wasn’t signed yet, but Vincent was confident it was a done deal. I was too. And the more I read, the more excited I got. Vincent’s passion leaped off the page. Seeing who else was attached to the project ramped up my excitement even more. I’d caught Roarke and Geary a few times over the last few years, so I was familiar with the tall, handsome lead actor Dan Jacobs. And Brandon Culpepper was building quite the name for himself. The buzz around his new miniseries was positive, and there was talk of an Emmy to go with the Golden Globe he’d already earned.
However, I didn’t know much about Lena Marcus, but I’d actually worked with Melora Young about five years ago on a romcom that had been a huge box-office success. She’d played the leading lady; I had been her love interest’s best friend.
And of course there was Spencer. But I wasn’t going to dwell on him.
The fucker.
I pushed him from my mind and started making plans. I’d have to get on a plane in less than three weeks. I did a little research, just because I was interested, and found it was better and closer to fly into Bellingham, Washington and then drive the hour to Oak Harbor.
I could reserve a car for the month or so Vincent planned for the shooting schedule, and I wouldn’t want to have to rely on anyone else to get around. I’d never heard of the town on Whidbey Island in Puget Sound, but Vincent had a house there. Which was, apparently, not only where we’d be shooting the movie, but also where I’d be staying. Low-budget, indeed. But sometimes those were the very best circumstances to make an outstanding film.
I shot Mindy an email so she would know my preferences when she booked the tickets and car, and didn’t even allow myself to question where Spencer would be staying.
Instead, I called my sister.
“Hey, Trouble,” I said as soon as she answered.
“Alexander!” she sang out with a happy laugh. “How’s my favorite brother?”
“I’m your only brother,” I grumbled back playfully and grinned. God, I loved her. “Hey, listen, you want to come stay in a movie star’s house?”
Rachel gave a squeal of excitement. “Yes! Absolutely! When do you want me there? Let me get packing!”
I had to laugh at her antics. Having just graduated college, she still lived with our dad in Long Beach. She’d gotten an entry-level human resources position at a huge law firm and was currently saving up for a place of her own. She always welcomed the chance to house-sit when I went out of town. Twenty-three, and she had the world at her feet.
Rachel was as enthusiastic as ever to hear about my upcoming work, and I purposely didn’t mention Spencer. She hated him as much as I did—my fierce, warrior sister who was always on my side—and I didn’t want her to try and talk me out of it. When she got going, it was hard to shut her down, and I didn’t want to listen to a twenty-minute diatribe about how he was a shit-eating asshole and I shouldn’t go within a ten-mile radius of him. She was right, to a degree. But I wanted to work on this project without my sister’s guilt weighing on me.
We chatted for a long time, and finally wrapped up once we had the details nailed down. I was glad I was giving her a break from our very loving, but sometimes overbearing father. And I knew my house would be well taken care of in my absence.
With all that seen to, I stood and headed for the bedroom. The con was next weekend, but I was only scheduled to be there on the Saturday. Since it was downtown, in the convention center, I didn’t even need to travel. So I could focus solely on my upcoming, month-long trip. That would take some time to sort out, especially as I would be providing my own wardrobe this time. To keep my brain occupied, I opened my closet and started looking.
I wasn’t going to allow myself to think about that fucker Spencer Johns or his gorgeous smile. I didn’t know how it was possible to hate another human this much and still want him to hold me down and fuck me hard, so I focused on the hate and let the want go.
Chapter 3
When I landed in Washington, I welcomed the cooler weather. After sorting out a mix-up with the car rental—they had me down for three days, not thirty-two, and it took some quick thinking by the rental agent to fix it—I plugged Vincent’s address into the onboard GPS and headed out.
It was a pleasant day, somehow overcast and bright at the same time, and the drive was beautiful. I couldn’t get over how lush and green everything was. Even though I knew logically it was a completely different climate, my brain was used to California, where even the green wasn’t this green.
Driving across Deception Pass Bridge was an awe-inspiring but harrowing experience, and I had to breathe deeply and focus hard to get across without panicking. Finally making it onto Whidbey Island, I let out a sigh of relief. I paid close attention to the directions as the road steered me toward the west beach and Vincent’s house.
When the driveway led to a huge, beautiful house, with several cars parked on a concrete pad, I knew I was in the right place. I pulled in next to an SUV with Washington plates and got out of the car, stretched out my sore, tense muscles, and then retrieved my luggage from the trunk. I’d managed to pack efficiently and only had one large suitcase, a garment bag, and a carry-all with my tablet that held my copy of the script, my e-reader, chargers, and miscellaneous other minutiae. Having pulled all the bags out, I stood there for a long moment, breathing in crisp, clean, salt-scented air and taking in my surroundings.
Vincent’s home was on a big lot. Trees bracketed the house on two sides, and a sloping, manicured lawn curved around the corner. I took a few steps in that direction and could clearly see the beach and the ocean just beyond the grass. Birds and the wind made a lovely soundtrack, and it wasn’t until I heard a deep bark that I realized I’d been standing there for some time. I shook my head—I’d have time to explore over the next month—and headed tow
ard the house, luggage in tow.
I rang the bell and heard the scrabble of nails on hardwood and another bark, before I could make out Vincent’s silhouette through the cut-glass window set in the door. He opened it a moment later, and I couldn’t help my huge grin. He looked good even with the gray at his temples, and his wide smile was welcoming.
“Alex,” he said warmly, holding out a hand for me to shake. “Glad you made it. How was the trip?”
“Great.” I crossed the threshold as he stepped back.
A golden red dog stood at his side, dancing a little in anticipation and sniffing madly. Vincent dropped a hand to his—her?—head, then nudged the dog back.
“You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. We like it. Come on in. Valentine, back up, boy. Come on, you stupid dog.”
The last was said with great affection, so I knew he didn’t really mean it. Then the dog’s name caught my attention and I laughed. When Vincent quirked a brow in question, I pointed at him. “Vincent.” And then down to the dog. “Valentine. Very clever.”
He gave me a wink and a smile. “I thought so. Come in and let me introduce you to everyone, and then you have some time to get settled.”
The entryway opened up into a huge, vaulted-ceilinged living room, and the open floor plan allowed me to see right into the kitchen and dining area. The back wall was floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a wooden deck and to the yard, beach, and ocean below. The living room itself had hardwood floors, a stone fireplace, and big, comfortable, sturdy-looking furniture. People were lounging in the room, and they looked up with interest when I entered on Vincent’s heels.
A tall man stood and crossed the room, and it took me a moment to recognize Dan Jacobs.
“Dan, meet Alex Lockhart. Alex, this is Dan.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Dan said with a big smile. His handshake was firm and warm, and the sparkle in his brown eyes was welcoming. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“It’s great to meet you too,” I said sincerely. “I can’t wait to get started.”
“Say hi to Brandon and Jared.” Dan gestured toward where the other two men had spread out on the couch.
I recognized Brandon Culpepper at once and lifted my hand in a wave. He did the same, offering a warm smile.
“H-h-hi. G-great to m-m-meet you.”
Jared simply gave me a head tip, his dark gaze assessing, and I nodded in response. He had a commanding air about him, and I wondered why he was there. Was it only because of Brandon? There was no doubt they were together, not with the way Brandon leaned into Jared and Jared kept a possessive hand on the nape of Brandon’s neck.
“Jared is B’s boyfriend, and he’s kindly agreed to provide security for the duration of the shoot,” Dan explained, though I hadn’t actually asked. “We don’t expect any kind of issues, but it never hurts, and you can’t get better than a Marine reservist.”
“Thank you,” I said, my gaze on Jared because it felt like I should say something. He could take that any way he wanted, but I meant it.
Jared’s nod was perfunctory, but I didn’t imagine the release of tension from his rigid shoulders.
“Dan, honey, will you give Alex the lowdown and show him to his room?” Vincent’s voice was half-distracted, and he threw me another smile and a “Welcome” over his shoulder before heading off in another direction without getting confirmation from Dan.
Huh. I hadn’t expected that.
Dan shook his head, but I saw the affection in his eyes as he stared after Vincent.
“Come on, let’s get you settled. I’m sure you’d like to relax a little after your trip.” Dan took the suitcase from me and headed toward the stairs. He turned his head and spoke to me over his shoulder as he started to climb. “So, you saw the kitchen, and feel free to help yourself to anything there. Make yourself at home. Vincent wants you to be comfortable here, and while we’ll be filming in and around the house for pretty much every scene, he hopes you’ll find it enjoyable. This is your room.”
He pushed open the door at the top of the stairs on the left, then walked in and set down the suitcase by the bed. It was a well-appointed room, done in browns and cream with rich, dark wood furniture, and the large window looked out over the back.
“Feel free to take over the space. Vincent doesn’t intend to film in any of the bedrooms, so this will be your private space while you’re staying here. If he finds he needs a bedroom shot, he’ll do it in ours.” Dan said it so casually, but I saw the hint of a grin playing at his lips—he liked saying it was theirs. He gestured back out into the hall. “We’re down at the end of the hall. There’s a big bathroom right next door, which you’ll have to share, but it’s just you, Spencer, Melora, and Lena staying here. Vincent wanted you guys to be comfortable, and although everyone else is staying at the inn about fifteen minutes away, there’s just not enough room there. Spencer is across the hall, and the ladies will be in the rooms closer to us.”
The way he said it made me think that Spencer had already arrived. I tried not to think about that, but I saw red for a moment anyway, and had to force myself to tune back into what Dan was saying.
“Shooting schedule is on the bedside table there, as well as some local sites to see. Not much in the way of shopping or excitement here, but the walks are incredible. Lena is getting in tomorrow morning, as well as a few remaining stragglers with the crew. It’s a barebones operation, but we’ll make it work.”
Dan’s grin was huge, and I got the distinct impression he was really looking forward to that aspect.
He continued. “We’ll have a formal meeting in the morning over breakfast at nine. Melora won’t be getting in for a couple of days, she’s coming straight from another project, but we’re going to start without her. Vincent expects to start shooting tomorrow afternoon.”
I nodded, but it really was a lot to take in. Dan seemed to get that, because he gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and headed for the door. “Unpack, settle in, wander around, relax. Vincent will go over everything in the morning. If he needs you before then, he’ll track you down.”
“Thanks, Dan.”
“You bet.”
Once he was gone, I blew out a breath and then sat on the side of the bed. I picked up the shooting schedule and gave it a once-over. It seemed pretty straightforward, though a lot to accomplish in thirty-two days. If anyone could, it would be Vincent. I set it aside and stood to begin unpacking. If I was going to be here for more than a month, I didn’t intend to live out of suitcases.
It didn’t take long. Once the clothes were put away, I dug out my tablet and checked my email, responded to the one Lou sent, and ignored the rest. Then I made sure my e-reader was charging so I’d have it when I went to bed. I couldn’t fall straight to sleep; I needed to unwind by reading first. Unless I’d been fucked into satiation. But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, so mystery thrillers were it.
I took my tablet and headed downstairs. The living room was now empty, so I wandered around for a few minutes, getting the layout of the house. A half bath under the stairs, what looked to be a combination den and office, a media room with a huge screen on the wall, and a selection of thickly padded armchairs and couches down the hall. I headed back the way I’d come to poke around a little in the kitchen, opening the fridge to check out the contents and randomly examining the insides of cupboards. That done, I moseyed back into the living room.
The sun was starting to set, the blue of the sky turning navy, and the reds, pinks, and gold of the sun lighting up the water. It was all breathtakingly beautiful, and I opened the sliding door so I could step out onto the deck. With the wind, it was chillier than I expected, and I wished I had a sweater, but there was no way I was missing this glorious sight. I set my tablet on a nearby table and stepped up to lean on the railing. I just stood there breathing, absorbing it all. In California, I couldn’t ever remember seeing a sunset quite like this, and I had to wond
er if I just didn’t take the time to appreciate them. This whole thing would be worth it simply if this was the sight I got to see each day, and I was really lucky that it was so much more than that. Not only did I get these beautiful surroundings, but we were going to make an amazing film as well.
The sun had just about disappeared when the slide of the door made me turn to greet whoever was joining me. But as soon as I saw him, my heart stopped.
For a split second, a desperate want washed over me. Bathed in the fading light, he was even more beautiful than the last time I’d seen him, when I’d clocked him hard in the mouth. That roiling anger surfaced again, boiling my blood, and I glared at the asshole who dared interrupt my communion with nature.
He stared back, his expression neutral.
I fought to keep my tongue in check. I’d promised Lou I wasn’t going to cause trouble, and I meant it. And it really wouldn’t do to have a fight on the very first day. I could say whatever I wanted about him when filming was finished. Until then, I needed to keep a lid on my temper. My anger would have to stay inside. Looking at him, I had absolutely no idea how I’d manage it.
Spencer broke first. “Alex…”
“Don’t,” I snapped, hating the way my body reacted to him saying my name. “We don’t have to talk to do our jobs, so let’s not.”
Spencer’s eyes hardened, but he gave me a curt nod. I glared stonily for good measure, before I snatched my tablet off the table and thundered down the steps to the yard. My long stride ate up the grass, and before I knew it, I’d hit the pebble-strewn sand. I kept walking, my anger making my tread hard, kicking up little bursts with every step I took.
This was going to be a rough month, judging by that exchange. If just the sight of his stupid, fucking, perfect, beautiful face was going to cause this much anger, I was going to have a hell of a time keeping myself together. I didn’t even allow myself to think of what it would be like when we actually had to kiss.
For the first time since I’d signed on, I regretted my decision. Because right at that moment, I wasn’t sure what I was more pissed off at—him for what he did, or me for wanting someone who’d hurt me so badly.
Something Like Want Page 2