by Lucy Monroe
Hot Alaska Nights
The Northern Fire Series
Book Two
Lucy Monroe
© Lucy Monroe 2019
http://lucymonroe.com
COPYRIGHT © 2019 LUCY MONROE
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express, written permission from the author Lucy Monroe who can be contacted off her website http://lucymonroe.com.
This is a work of fiction. names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For my baby sister and BFF, Mona, who wanted to be an actor when she was a teenager and was brilliant on stage. Your dreams have always been glorious and the fact you've gone back to school to pursue new ones makes me so proud! Love you to bits and beyond! And for her wonderful husband, Jason, who has supported and loved my sister like no one else could have. You two ARE a great romance!
CHAPTER ONE
"Incoming!"
The warning came a second before Deborah Banes' seat companion plopped a half-full plastic cup on her small food tray.
Right next to where she'd been tapping away on her tablet.
The strong scent of spirits hit her nostrils as the amber liquid sloshed over the sides, barely missing the minicomputer she'd given up movie nights and her favorite herbal tea at Starbucks for six months to afford.
"Cool it, Carey!" Three hours into the five-hour flight, Deborah's patience with the younger actor was wearing thin.
She couldn't decide if her co-star for the indie film she'd landed her first starring role in at the ripe age of twenty-nine was nervous, excited, or both. She sincerely hoped this was not his natural state. As they travelled together, he had annoyed with enough persistence to give her some serious concerns about the next ten weeks. Regardless of how talented his screen test had shown him to be.
"Lighten up, Debs." His affected English accent slipping, he gave her the winning smile that made the director's second assistant giggle like the school girl she'd left behind decades before.
Deborah gave a mental eye-roll. The man was from Alaska, not the UK. And apparently had the perfect location for filming, which he'd offered the producers in exchange for his role.
Not that it had been put that way to Deborah, but secrets were hard to keep in Hollywood. Talent wasn't everything in this business. Considering what starring opposite Carey James would mean for her career, she was just grateful he had his fair share of it.
She’d made her own deal with the devil to make this film and it wasn’t for her credit as primary female lead.
"My name is Deborah," she told him for something like the tenth time.
Carey nodded sagely, alcohol turning his bright eyes hazy. "I know."
"So, maybe, I don't know...could you try and use it?"
He laughed like she'd made a joke. "Sure, Debs."
Oh, sheesh. "Carey?"
"Uh huh?"
"Don't you think you should take a nap before we land?" she hinted.
"Plenty of time to sleep later tonight." He winked. "Much later."
She could do without the heavy-handed flirting. If she thought for a second he was really hitting on her, she'd shut him down fast. But he wasn't giving off that vibe. He was what Deborah's first college roommate had called harmlessly tipsy.
"Or, you know, right now." She tried appealing to his ego. "You don't want poufy eyes on the first day of filming."
For a brief moment, she thought it was going to work as his expression turned horrified, but it smoothed out a second later. "The camera crew doesn’t arrive with the equipment until tomorrow. They'll take at least a day to set up."
"Did you even look at the schedule?" Because the one she'd been emailed indicated preliminary takes were happening the next afternoon.
At least one cameraman with basic equipment had to have flown in with the primary film crew that arrived into Anchorage a couple of days before. The director, Art Gamble, and his assistants were supposed to visit the Cailkirn location today in order to determine initial settings.
Independent films ran on a tighter schedule as well as a much tighter budget. Not to mention about a tenth of the crew associated with a blockbuster production. Even so, she thought it was an ambitious schedule. Deborah might have negotiated her way into a tiny production credit and the chance to direct two scenes, but in Art’s eyes she was still the actor, not an official part of his team.
According to Carey, who was never loathe to talk about himself, he had given some very detailed specs on the property outside Cailkirn, Alaska. Presumably, Art and his crew were not going in blind. Deborah still wished she was with them.
She’d never expected to go all the way to Alaska for her first break onto the big screen, or for that break to be her way to the other side of the camera.
After another jostle at her elbow that sent more of her untouched drink splashing dangerously close to her tablet, she gave up any hope of adding to her notes on her character. She put the computer safely away.
Deborah tried for a genuine smile for Carey. "Is your family still in Alaska?" It wasn't his fault he was young for his age and she was old for hers.
At least on the inside.
Her skin? Was flawless. Some things were more important than running the dilapidated AC unit in her apartment.
Carey grimaced, his expression turning almost furtive, before it smoothed into his usual smile. "Just my older brother. My sister is going to the San Francisco School of Fine Arts."
"Acting is in the blood, huh?"
"You bet. You've heard of my parents, Georgia Howell and Errol Jepsom."
Okay, so the hokey old stage names ran in the family. "Um, I..." She hated to admit she didn't know the pair, but she'd never heard of either actor.
"I guess they were a little older than you."
Ouch. "If they were your parents, that's a good guess."
He smiled, like he hadn't just insulted her. "They made mostly low budget films. Classics really. Mom was like Jamie Lee Curtis."
"She got her start as a scream queen?" Deborah wasn't sure the comparison was an accurate one, even if both women had gotten their start in the industry doing horror films.
Georgia Howell had clearly not parlayed that beginning to major stardom. Unlike Jamie Lee Curtis.
"Yeah, but she and dad fell in love, had us kids and well, they died tragically before they got their big break." Carey looked almost defensive. "They did all right though."
"So, is your brother an actor too?"
"No chance. He's got the looks. The name. Rock Jepsom, right? But he's got no sense of drama."
Deborah had a feeling Carey had enough dramatic sense for both brothers.
Rock yanked the fifty-pound hay bale down from the stack and carried it to Orion's stall. The large, black Percheron stallion was in the paddock with Rock's gray mare of the same breed, Amanda. He'd planned to ride this morning, but he was too pissed.
He needed to work off some of his anger before mounting a horse, even a calm-tempered one like Orion.
Damn Carey.
It wasn't enough Rock's baby brother had gone to the Lower 48 to follow the same dreams that had killed their parents. No, the idiot had to spend the entire inheritance Rock had built him out of the money their parents left chasing the fantasy.
He probably thought Rock didn't know the money was gone, but seriously? Like he wouldn't have left himself a backdoor to his brother's accounts when he turned over his inheritance. It was because of that backdoor that
Carey still had money to go back to university if he wanted to.
Not that Rock would tell the twenty-two-year-old that.
Not after Carey had signed away the use of Rock's land as a movie location.
In exchange for a damn lead role.
Not that the suits who'd shown up at Rock's gates had said that exactly, but he wasn't an idiot.
And neither was his brother, really, all evidence to the contrary. Carey knew how pissed Rock would be when he found out what his little brother had done.
The boy wouldn't have risked Rock's wrath for anything less than a shot at his big break. The same big break their parents had still been chasing when their plane crashed ten years ago.
Damn it. Rock flaked the hay into Orion's stall with vicious movements.
Just damn it all to hell and back.
He could hear Carey now. "Please, Rock. You know how important this is to me."
The little shit was going to be shocked when he realized Rock wasn't falling for it this time.
The execs had been surprised enough when Rock refused them entry to Jepsom Acres. Both times. The director had arrived with his assistant first. When Rock refused to open the gate, he'd left, only to return an hour later with the executive producer. They'd had a hard time believing Carey hadn't told Rock about the deal. Rock wasn't.
It was typical Carey James move.
If he'd thought Rock would be too embarrassed or loyal to tell the execs the papers giving them access to his land weren't worth the pulp used to make them, then Carey must have suffered brain damage down there in LA.
Carey and his twin Marilyn's names might still be on the deed, but their combined ownership only totaled twenty percent. Both had opted to accept more money from Rock in exchange for most of their inherited interest in the house and land when they turned twenty-one.
At least Carey hadn't run through that as fast as he had the half-a-million Rock had been forced to turn over to his brother on his eighteenth birthday.
He hadn't wanted to buy his sister and brother out completely. They were family and should know they still had a home, no matter where their wanderlust might take them. Even if their only parent was an older brother.
But he'd needed to know his home was safe from the obsession with stardom. Rock had put too much into building a life completely unimpeded by show business. It was a damn good thing he'd done things the way he had.
If he hadn't, he'd have an entire film crew and cast camping out on his front lawn. Now, wouldn’t he?
Excitement fizzing like champagne through her, Deborah rolled her suitcase toward the airport exit, her matching (if slightly beat up) carryon stacked on top. It wasn't Carey's full set of London Fog luggage, but she was here for the same chance he was. To star in a film that had all the right elements to launch them both a huge leap forward.
Besides, her battered bags bought at a discount outlet held what she needed and that's all that mattered. At least they did if she'd packed right.
After checking the projected weather reports, Deborah had brought clothes she usually reserved for winter in LA. Still, she wasn't sure the light sweaters meant to be layered over tank tops and T-shirts would be warm enough. Summer came to the Kenai Peninsula, but with the exception of a few days of unpredictable highs, it was nothing like summer in Southern Cali, that was for sure.
Bright neon proclaimed the Mooselaneous souvenir shop to her left, saying better than the Welcome Alaska sign that she wasn't in LA anymore. The airport's interior renovations were smooth and sleek, but the river stone columns and quirky storefronts fit her image of Alaska to a T.
Deborah was smiling, allowing her innate sense of adventure to surface after the long plane ride, as the sound of raised voices drew her attention from her first impression of the state with more landmass than Pluto.
Shocked by the faces that went with the voices, Deborah stopped in the middle of the concourse.
Gesticulating wildly, Carey was talking to the head producer and director.
Deborah couldn't make sense of the two major power people on the film being at the airport right now. Carey, Deborah and the other actors were supposed to take a hired shuttle to Cailkirn.
She knew they were. She even had the driver's name and number to call in case he wasn't waiting for them outside baggage claim.
Art Gamble and Elaine Morganstein were supposed to be on location already. Neither had struck her as the type to come to the airport just to welcome the cast and escort them to the location.
Sure, they might have sent an assistant to do it, but not Art and Ms. Morganstein.
They didn't look happy either.
Ms. Morganstein, a woman in her mid-fifties who'd had undisputed success as a producer in the independent film industry, had her arms crossed and her face set in severe lines. Art, the film's director and another indie film success story, was doing all the yelling.
Carey just looked like he was doing some really fast talking.
None of this spelled a relaxing drive to Cailkirn spent taking in the beauty of the Kenai Peninsula, not if they were all in the same car and Deborah had a sinking feeling that would indeed be the case. She was pretty sure she could write off the evening she'd had planned for settling in with some time to go over the script again too.
Suddenly chilled, she pulled her gray cardigan close. She should be used to this kind of drama (whatever had inspired it) in her volatile industry, but she had to admit it was one of her least favorite aspects to the career she'd chosen.
Other passengers moved around her, reminding Deborah that she was stopped in the direct line of foot traffic. Wishing she could simply pretend she hadn't seen, she forced herself back into movement, but changed her direction toward the little scene playing itself out.
She'd never found avoidance an effective course of action and this? Was too important. She wasn't young and rich like Carey. Deborah's entire future hinged on this role and the success of the movie.
The producer noticed Deborah before the others, a small, but imperious jerk of Ms. Morganstein's head indicating she wanted her female lead front and center.
As she arrived, Deborah heard, "My name is on the deed." Carey’s tone implied it wasn't the first time he'd made the claim.
"It better be, Mr. James, or you are done in LA." The director's voice could have crushed rock.
Or a new actor's career.
Deborah found herself shivering again. And she wasn't the recipient of Art's stony gaze.
"Is there a problem?" she asked, not sure she wanted an answer, but nevertheless needing to know.
"Apparently there is some disagreement as to who is actually the property holder for our location." Ms. Morganstein's voice dripped acid.
Deborah winced with reluctant sympathy for Carey. If he'd screwed this film over, she'd want to kill him, sure. But the person who would come out the worse from this would be Carey James. No question.
"I don't think I understand," Deborah said carefully. "I thought Carey owned the location property."
"I do," Carey said with enough earnestness, she almost believed him.
He was an actor after all.
Ms. Morganstein's eyes narrowed, but she nodded. "Then you'll have no trouble coming with us and reminding your caretaker of that fact."
"He's um not exactly the caretaker," Carey said.
Deborah's stomach clenched with tension. This was not going to be good.
"What exactly is he?" the producer asked icily.
"My brother."
Art snorted with impatience, his brows beetling in his trademark expression. "We gathered that."
"Um, we both own the land. Along with my sister." Carey spoke with clear reluctance.
Deborah was surprised when both the director and producer relaxed. She wasn't feeling relaxed. At all. Carey seemed pleased though, his own shoulders sagging in obvious relief.
"We'll have to remind him of that fact then," Art said with palpable satisfaction.
&nb
sp; Carey nodded like a bobble head. "You bet, that's what we'll do."
"So long as your name is on the deed, the contract you signed giving us permission to shoot on the property is still valid." Ms. Morganstein's tone had warmed a degree, or two.
"Are you sure about that?" Deborah asked, wishing for just this once she could ignore the practical side of her nature.
But seriously? Property law wasn't universal and it sounded like a legal mess to her.
Ms. Morganstein flicked her hand dismissively. "We'll get the lawyers on it. We may not be a big studio, but I'm sure our legal team will run rings around a provincial Alaskan man from the barely-there town of Cailkirn."
Deborah didn't mention that her research on the town had revealed that Alistair Banning, the reclusive billionaire, was also a citizen of Cailkirn and that while the town was small, it was a significant tourist stop on the cruise routes. She wasn't sure small town equaled provincial and Deborah was fairly confident provincial didn't mean ignorant or easily intimidated.
"Um, yeah." Carey didn't sound too sure either, but neither their head director nor their top producer seemed to notice.
"Okay, change in plan." Ms. Morganstein uncrossed her arms and started walking, talking as she covered the distance to the exit swiftly. "We go directly to the location and get this matter cleared up. Every hour it remains unresolved is costing us money."
"All of us?" Deborah asked.
"I don't think the entire cast and crew needs to descend on the poor man. I'm sure having the two primaries, the director, producer and our assistants will be enough."
Deborah felt like she was supposed to pity the poor man, but something in Carey's expression said he didn't think the six of them were a match for his brother.
Well, wasn't that just lovely?
Her first big role and it was in jeopardy before they'd even started rehearsals.
