by Lucy Monroe
Her career didn’t need her to be in Los Angeles full time.
She could compromise.
Would Rock?
She had to hope the answer was yes, because she wasn’t sure she could give him up. She’d fallen and fallen hard.
As much for the feeling of being part of a family again as for the man she was rapidly realizing she’d fallen head over heels in love with.
Everything about Rock was right. He was so strong. So solid. So certain of his course without shoving that course on others. How could she not want this man in her life?
"What are you thinking?" Rock asked as she reached him.
"About you."
He gave her a lazy grin. "Whatever it is, keep thinking it. I like that look."
If only he knew. If any man were less ready to hear the L-word, she didn’t know who it would be. She just smiled up at him. "Don’t worry, I will."
"Now, you’re starting to worry me."
"Why?"
Putting a proprietary arm around her waist, he pulled her close with a sexy look that made her shiver with want. "Because that look was all provocation and secrets."
"A woman without any would bore you to death."
"It all depends on what those secrets are, hot stuff."
A loud expletive from Art, interrupted her reply. "He can’t do that, Elena!"
The blue language that followed shocked Deborah and caused a shiver of dread. Art wasn’t one of those directors that used foul language as adjectives and cursed at his actors and tech crew as a matter of course.
He saw it a sign of a lazy brain and anyone who hoped to work their way up or gain a glowing recommendation remembered that.
"You ready to change back to twenty-eight-year-old Deborah and head into town for some dinner?" Rock asked, seemingly impervious to Art's vocal agitation.
Another date? Promising. Even if it meant missing a family dinner. "What about Marilyn and Carey?"
"They’ve both got plans this evening."
"Oh." So, more circumstance than design.
"What’s the matter? Isn’t my company enough for you."
"It’s just…I like family dinners," she admitted, not without some embarrassment. They weren’t her family after all. And the fact their date wasn't planned so much as happenstance shouldn't be disappointing either.
Thankfully, Rock gave her an indulgent look rather than a pitying or annoyed one. "I do, too, but sometimes I like you all to myself."
"That’s nice to hear."
"We have little enough time left."
Deborah refused to let comments like that hurt her. She just had to prove to Rock that she was different. That she was coming back after the filming was wrapped up. She’d made a decision.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to make it happen, especially without his cooperation, but whatever it took. She was moving back to Cailkirn and building a life with Rock.
Maybe a discussion with Lydia would help. The housekeeper was über resourceful. She’d know options for part-time jobs Deborah could hold between acting or production gigs. That is if Deborah stayed in the film industry after this movie.
The more time she spent considering her motives for doing what she did, the less she was sure of them. She was nearly thirty; and while she knew she was a good actor, she wasn’t sure anymore it was worth the sacrifice. She wasn’t sure what she wanted out of life except to have the one thing that had always eluded her, even when she’d lived with her parents.
A family that loved her for being herself. Full stop.
"Are we going?" Rock prompted. "You seem lost in your thoughts there, hot stuff."
"I am a little." She sighed and looked around for Art.
He was texting on his phone, his expression thunderous, his fingers stabbing the poor electronic device with cruel and unusual force.
"I think I should check on him." She nodded toward her director.
But Rock shook his head. "No. If he has a problem, he has a whole production team to take care of it, not to mention Ms. Morganstein. She’s still in town."
"She is. Technically, I’m part of the production team." They’d been together for weeks, but she’d never talked to Rock about her specific role in the movie besides that of co-lead with his brother.
"Whatever that means, you aren’t high enough in the food chain to be listed on the paperwork I signed, so whatever his problem is now is not your responsibility and there’s no way you’ve got the clout to fix it either."
"Gosh, thanks!"
"I’m not putting you down, but whatever has your director that pissed off, you’re not going to be able to fix it." Rock took her hand and gently tugged her toward the house. "Now let’s get rid of your coming of age persona and find my gorgeous Deborah Banes again, shall we?"
"So, you’re not interested in dating a much younger woman?"
"No."
"Are you telling me you don’t hook up with young things on your business trips?"
Rock stopped and yanked Deborah to him, giving her a searing kiss. When he released her lips, he kept her body trapped against his and her eyes locked by his own. "I have never been interested in screwing someone who reminded me of my responsibilities at home. That included choosing bed partners anywhere near or younger than my sister’s age."
He shivered like the idea revolted him and Deborah laughed.
"Wow, I’ve got to pity all the younger women."
"Don’t. No matter how worldly wise they think they are, I’m not risking some baby looking at me with stars in her eyes, thinking I’m looking for a fairytale when all I want is some good old-fashioned exercise and stress relief, no matter if she is old enough to drink."
What about a twenty-eight-year-old actor with a mostly cynical viewpoint? "I’ve met teenagers that make piranhas seem tame."
Rock shrugged and then kissed her again, long and slow.
"What was that for?" Deborah asked, more than a little breathless.
"No reason. Other than holding you against me makes me want to kiss."
"I like that."
"Me too."
The trip back to the house took about five times as long as it should have because he kept her body close to his on the walk and apparently that meant stopping to kiss every few feet. Deborah wasn’t sure exactly how she was supposed to wash the stars out of her eyes.
Rock took her back to the diner for dinner and this time, made sure they didn’t end up sharing their tiny table for two with anyone. Though the diner was as busy as it had been on their last visit.
The food was just as good, as well, but Deborah probably enjoyed it even more because Rock shared his with her and insisted on tasting hers.
He wasn’t the least embarrassed to let his small-town brethren know he was dating her. No matter what he said, he had to be open to something of a real relationship. His actions spoke louder than his words and with a lot more meaning.
Just like they did with his siblings.
The revelation sent her head spinning.
"What?" Rock demanded, looking around, his body going taut, like he was preparing to protect her.
Again.
"I just realized something."
"You looked like you’d seen the start of the Zombiepocolypse."
She couldn’t help laughing, releasing tension she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. "Nope, just one of those inner revelations."
"Don’t start taking scene notes in the middle of dinner and I won’t have to hide the body." Rock gave her a mock glare.
She shook her head. "Believe it, or not, not all of my thoughts revolve around the movie. Especially when I’m with you."
Let him make of that what he would.
Rock’s expression turned wary. "You and Carey don’t talk much about the movie at the dinner table."
"Do you expect us to?" she asked in a tone that made it clear her question was rhetorical.
Rock gave her an odd look. "Yes."
"You're kidding
. You've made your disapproval clear."
"I'm letting you film the damn thing in my home and on my land." And obviously, he expected his actions to carry sway over his expressed disapproval.
"So, it wouldn't bother you if we discussed how our day's filming went?"
"Marilyn is probably dying to hear the nitty-gritty."
"I'm sure she pesters Carey plenty."
"Not you?"
Deborah shrugged. "We talk some."
"I bet."
"She's smart. I think Elaine is considering interning Marilyn."
"They could both do worse."
"I'm surprised to hear you say so."
"Me too."
If he could change his opinion about the evils of the film industry this far, the man could definitely change his outlook on relationships. "So, you want me and Carey to talk about work at dinner?"
"Not exclusively." The horror that idea produced was clear in every line of Rock's face and depths of his tone.
Deborah couldn't hold back her laugh, but she managed to assure him. "Duly noted."
"You're not serious? We must have some kind of contract with him." Deborah could not believe what Ms. Morganstein had just told her.
Art looked at Deborah, frustration written all over the director's face. "You'll find that contracts with financial backers on indie projects like this are written with the majority of the concessions in their direction."
"But we're more than half done with the filming. He can't pull out now."
"He can. And he has."
"Because of the overages on the schedule?" she asked with disbelief. "That makes no sense."
"To him it does."
"And you can't change his mind."
"Believe me when I say I tried."
"I've spoken with Mr. Barston, as well," her movie's executive producer offered, her face tighter than usual with stress. "He's already cut off access to funds and has no interest in changing his mind."
"But even with the accidents and scheduling problems, we're barely going over budget. Every movie goes overtime and budget." At least every one she'd worked on.
Art rubbed his temples, the lines around his eyes and bracketing his mouth tight with unhappiness. "I think there's something else going on, but I don't know what it is."
"You think maybe he's run out of money?" Deborah asked.
"No. That would make more sense, but we checked his solvency when he came onboard as our primary financial backer. He'd just gone through a divorce, but he had a good prenup and she got nothing. The man has plenty of money."
"Then why?" Deborah just didn't understand.
It was a good movie, great scenery, solid acting, and writing that impressed her every day.
"I don't know." Art looked both frustrated and dejected.
"Okay, so we go to other backers. It was great to have a single producer with deep pockets, but he's not the only game in town."
Ms. Morganstein's smile was approving. "I like your attitude. I've already started putting out feelers to my contacts."
"Yeah, I might have a lead on some funds, not enough to finish the film, but maybe enough to keep us going for a few more days while we look for more support." Art sighed. "But one of Nevin Barston's requirements for coming on board was that he was the only financial backer. He wasn't even happy about the money Elaine and I brought to the project. I had to turn down people who were expecting to be part of my next project. That money has already gone into other ventures, or simply isn't available any longer."
Deborah understood what was unsaid. In order to get the generous funding of a single angel investor, Art had turned down people that wouldn't fund the project now on principle.
"You'll need to do your part as well, Deborah." Ms. Morganstein's expression was stern.
Deborah squared her shoulders, determined to do just that. "I'll do my best, but I don't have anything like the connections you two do."
"On the contrary, you have a connection even Carey would be hard pressed convincing to invest." Ms. Morganstein's expression was calculating.
Confused, Deborah looked at first the executive producer and then the director. "Who are you talking about?" Then the penny dropped. "You want me to ask Rock?"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Art nodded.
Ms. Morganstein gave Deborah a droll look. "Who else?"
"But you know how he feels about the film industry." Rock's recent softening did not mean the man was ready to invest in a movie production.
A single, thin, shaped brow rose on Ms. Morganstein's face. "We know that if we don't get an influx of some serious cash soon, not only are we going to have quit filming, but we're going to have a hell of a time making payroll at any level, much less fly our people home."
"It's that serious? You said you got some money lined up," Deborah reminded Art helplessly.
The director's lips twisted in a grimace. "Enough to juggle so we can keep going, but if we don't shore up our finances fast, this whole house of cards is going to come crashing down."
Deborah bit back what she wanted to say about signing a contract with a single backer who could pull funds without notice and less consequences. Art had his reasons, she was sure, as did Ms. Morganstein, but that didn't help what was happening now.
"Rock isn't going to invest," she said instead.
"Carey thinks he might. If you ask him."
"You already spoke to Carey?" Deborah wasn't happy.
Carey was lead actor, yes, but he didn't have production credits like she did.
"We wanted him to ask Rock, but he didn't think his brother would be as receptive to him as he would be to you."
"Because we're sleeping together? We don't even have plans to see each other once the movie wraps." Deborah ignored the twinge of pain that truth caused.
"Never underestimate how influenced by his libido a man can be," Art said with conviction.
Deborah scoffed, "Rock isn't the type."
"Every man is the type." Ms. Morganstein's shark's grin was not comforting.
"You want me to trade on our sexual chemistry?" Deborah asked with disbelief. "I'm not a whore."
"We're not asking you to sell yourself to him," Ms. Morganstein said, managing to sound offended. "You're already sleeping together. We're asking, no…telling you, to do your job."
"How is asking Rock for money my job?" Deborah demanded. "I'm getting a minor production and directing credit on this film. I'm not on any of the legal paperwork, other than my own contract."
Rock didn't even know she had other roles because of that.
"Trust me, getting investors is part of even a minor production player's job." Ms. Morganstein crossed her legs, smoothing her pencil straight skirt. "When necessary."
"So, I'll ask producers on my past projects." Deborah didn't have many connections, but she had some.
Frowning, Art shook his head. "We don't need everyone in Hollywood to know we're begging for money. This film is too important for it to have negative rumors surrounding it before we even make it out of production."
Which possibly further explained why the other two, with all their connections, were having a hard time replacing their angel investor.
"I don't want to ask Rock." There, she'd said it.
She wanted a chance at the future they never discussed. She didn't think asking him for money for the movie would help with that.
"Do you believe in this project?" Art asked, his voice intense with his own passionate support of the film.
"You know I do."
"Do you believe it is a movie that should be made?" he pushed further.
"Of course, I do." She'd taken lead female role, for Heaven's sake.
"Do you think it's going to fail at the box office and at the film festivals?" Ms. Morganstein asked coldly.
"No! I really believe this movie is going to do well. The production quality, the writing, the actors, all of it are top notch. Which is why I don't think we'll have any trouble finding fun
ding from usual sources."
Ms. Morganstein sighed, her gaze filled with mockery. "Then you are very naïve and I'm not sure how well you'll do on the other side of the camera."
That hurt, and scared Deborah just a little. "What are you saying?"
"That you learn to leverage the relationships you have to make a project work." There was no compromise in Ms. Morganstein's tone or expression.
She expected compliance from Deborah and she meant to get it.
Deborah looked at Art. "You're saying you'd ask your wife for the money?"
Not that she and Rock had nearly that serious of a relationship, but still.
"You don't think she's played major investor in more than one of my movies?" Art asked with a laugh. "What kind of marriage would we have if she didn't believe in me, in what I do?"
And just like that, an epiphany washed through Deborah's brain and heart.
If Rock couldn't respect her choice of careers, the single thing that had dominated her life for the past ten years, then they had very little chance at a future. She didn't need him to invest in the movie, but she did need to be able to ask the venture capitalist if he was willing to do it.
If doing so made him mad, or want to break off their sexual relationship, then they had less of a connection than she believed they did. They had no hope for the future.
"Okay, I'll ask him, but I don't think he'll do it," she felt compelled to point out.
"It's your job to convince him," Art replied implacably.
Deborah frowned. "I'll do my best, but I'm not making this about him and me and what we've found together."
"Nor should you," Ms. Morganstein said.
Deborah couldn't quite buy into the other woman's sincerity after the earlier part of their conversation. She believed neither executive expected her to prostitute herself, but they clearly expected her to trade on Rock's attraction to her.
Deborah ran into Carey and Marilyn in the hall when she returned to Rock's home. Both appeared stressed and worried.
The way Carey surged toward her the minute she walked through the door said he'd been waiting for her to show up. "Hey, Deborah."
"Hi, Carey."
"Did you meet with Ms. Morganstein and Art?"
