High Tide

by Michelle Mankin

  He squeezed my hand and stood. I followed him with my gaze as he returned to his seat. I didn’t even look away when he was situated, and his eyes met mine again. The candlelight flickered in his royal-blue gaze like magical stardust.

  “You’re staring, sugar.”

  “You can’t be real, Cash.”

  “Max.”

  “Max,” I repeated, and he nodded.

  “Give me your hand.”

  I extended my arm. He grasped my fingers, his larger hand engulfing mine. My doubts faded as quickly as his skin warmed me, and I lifted my gaze to find his.

  “Better.” He nodded as if to confirm something in his own mind. “When I touch you, I know this, I know it’s real. I know it’s right.”

  He swept his thumb across my knuckles. “I get your trepidation. We both have reservations. I’ve seen enough of your life to know how little of it’s real and how much more of it is only perception. So, let’s make a pact. Here, right now, wherever we are, whatever happens tomorrow or the next day, behind closed doors, when it’s just the two of us like this, we keep it real, and no one and nothing else outside of us can change that or the way we feel when you and I are alone together. Can you do that, shug?”

  He stopped stroking my skin. “Can you make me that promise?”

  “I can.”

  “Good.” He let out a breath and released my hand, then picked up his burger and pointed to my plate. “Eat. Finish your food before it gets completely cold.”

  I began to eat, and so did he. But though we were focused on our food, we were also extremely aware of each other.

  Or I certainly was extremely aware of him.

  His long fingers wrapped around his burger. His sculpted lips as he chewed. How he wiped his mouth between bites. The way he studied me as I ate my meal seemed similar.

  Though where he had excellent table manners, mine escaped me. My hands fumbled with utensils. I had trouble chewing and swallowing. My lips tingled when I sensed his gaze on my mouth.

  “Fruit?” he asked, lifting the platter of freshly sliced cantaloupe and offering it to me.

  “A few pieces, perhaps.”

  I reached. He pulled the platter back.

  “I’d like to try something, if you’ll allow it.”

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  He put the plate down, selected a slice, and leaned forward. “Open your mouth, sugar.”

  I parted my lips. His gaze on mine, he brought the piece of fruit to my mouth. My eyes on his, I leaned forward to take it. As he slipped the melon slice into my mouth, I had a fleeting fanciful thought.

  I felt like Eve in the garden, if Adam—not the serpent—had offered her a bite of apple from the tree of knowledge. For surely my eyes were open to him, to us, to the roles we would portray.

  He would dominate. I would submit. Willingly, oh so willingly, if my previous behavior—the flutter low in my abdomen and the heat throbbing between my legs—were any indication.

  I sank my teeth into the slice, and he dropped the remaining half on the platter. I closed my mouth, somehow managing to chew, though he held me captive with his gaze.

  “Do you feel it, the heat?” he whispered low, and reached out to brush the pad of his thumb gently over my lips to remove the juice that had escaped.

  As I watched, he brought his thumb to his mouth and slipped it between his lips. The throbbing between my legs intensified as I imagined the feel of those firm lips and the suction of his mouth on me.

  “You will burn me up, sugar.” He reached for the other half of the slice.

  My spine tingling in anticipation, I obediently opened my mouth to partake of more temptation from his hand.

  I might be an ingenue, but I wasn’t unaware of what was happening. Max was seducing me.

  I would succumb, and I’d revel in the flames. When the chemistry between a man and a woman was already like this, it wasn’t just a possibility.

  It was inevitable.

  “Tell me something about you beyond what I can find by searching your name on the internet,” Max said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Hmm.” I hummed, stalling for time to get my mind to function on something other than him, and the fact that the tapers on the candles burned a good deal lower than the fire he’d kindled inside me. “There’s a lot of information out there.”

  “I want to know what you would want me to know. The things that matter to you. Tell me about yourself as if we’d just met.”

  “I was born here in Los Angeles. I have a sister, who you already know. My mom was an actress like me, before she married my . . . Samuel.” I felt a crease form between my eyes.

  “Your stepfather is a sore subject.”

  I nodded. “One best avoided all the time.”

  “Your mother?”

  “She was a wonderful, amazing woman. Stunning. Strong. Sacrificing. Caring and wise.”

  “You miss her.”

  “Every day. Every hour. There’s a hole inside my life without her.”

  His expression somber, he nodded. “That’s how it is for me with my grandmother. My parents passed when I was too young to remember them. But my grandmother . . .” His eyes pinched closed. “It’s like you said.”

  Max opened his eyes, darker now, holding an inconsolable sadness I could identify with. “When a person is so important to you, when their love makes up such a big portion of who you are, when they’re taken away there’s a part of you that’s gone forever too.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel about my mom.” Reeling internally, I stood and went to him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Bending over, I slid my arms around his neck and rested my cheek on top of his head.

  “Thank you, shug.” He reached up and grasped my arms. “I didn’t mean to get so serious.” He squeezed. “But I certainly value your understanding and appreciate your comfort.”

  I turned my head and pressed a kiss into his hair. Golden with some platinum sun-bleached highlights, it was silky-soft beneath my lips and lightly scented by the hotel’s mimosa shampoo. Combined with his cologne and his warmth, and considering everything else that had happened between us, well, my legs were admittedly unsteady as I returned to my chair.

  “Do you have any siblings?” I asked once I was resettled.

  “I’m sure you saw on my background check that I don’t.”

  “But I want to know what you want me to know.”

  “Ah, just right.” Smiling softly, he nodded. “I grew up in Biloxi, Mississippi. We had a little money from my father’s life insurance, but mainly we lived off the income my grandmother made working in housekeeping at one of the casino-hotels. I wasn’t as good in school as I imagine you were, given your expansive vocabulary, so I enlisted. Served my contract. Went into private security afterward. My first job was at the same hotel where my grandmother had worked. The second one was out here.”

  “Security You Can Trust in San Diego.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why the change? California is very different from Mississippi.”

  “I needed that difference, needed a change of scenery.”

  Max’s guarded expression returned. Guessing that reaction stemmed from talking about his grandmother’s death, I didn’t push.

  He tapped his chin. “You throwing my words back at me from earlier told me something about you I should have already guessed.”

  “Which is?”

  “You have a quick memory for detail. You never write your manager’s instructions down. You stuck to her talking points at the press conference and didn’t deviate from a single one. I imagine that’s a skill that makes it fairly easy for you to memorize dialogue.”

  “Yes. The difficult part is not changing the words, even if I think they should be changed.”

  “Ah, I often wondered about that. Are there never any revisions to a script during filming?”

  “It depends on the writers and the director. Some welcome on-the-set improvisation, others don’t. I prefer wo
rking with ones who are flexible.” I let out a breath. “It’s nice to finally be at a point in my career where I can be choosier.”

  “Speaking of choosing,” his eyes narrowed in interest, “have you decided what your next project will be?”

  “Not yet.” I shook my head.

  “But you’re leaning toward one.”

  “Two.”

  His eyes widened.

  “It’ll be tight to squeeze two in, but I’m thinking of doing the David Mamet script about a con man, and the romantic comedy.”

  “Why those two? They’re very different.” He shrugged. “Don’t look so surprised. Surely you know I can’t help but listen when you and Olivia talk.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not a secret. It’s part of the game, part of the consideration process for everyone from the cast to the production crew to try to guess who’s signing up for what before they make their determination. For me, personally, I think the screen adaptation on the Mamet piece is incredible. The director is also one I’ve always wanted to work with.” But my stepfather had never allowed it. Chester Valentine was a rival of his. “There’s an impressive ensemble of actors who have already committed to be in it.”

  “A sure hit.”

  “As close as you can get to one.”

  “And the other?”

  “A romantic drama with a little comedy. An independent film. Those aren’t usually commercially successful. But the script . . .” I sighed. “The story is simple, but I like it a lot. The contrast between the heavier emotional elements and the lighter ones make it poignant.”

  “Sounds like that one’s where your heart is.”

  “Definitely.” I nodded. “But it won’t pay much. I have to consider paying the bills too.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of trying to tell you which one to choose. I don’t know much about film, really, except what I like.” He leaned forward. “I liked you in every single one I’ve seen. And I’ve seen them all. My favorites are the comedies. It seems to me you have an inherent knack for timing. But the trailers for Firelight are pretty impressive.”

  I frowned. “The advance speculation by critics isn’t very favorable.”

  It was actually super harsh. Me as a sexy intergalactic assassin? Yes, fans were buying the tickets. The opening weekend was sold out, both internationally and domestically. But I was afraid a lot of the hoopla beyond my current notoriety was the potential opportunity to see Holliewood fall flat on her unsexy ass.

  “It’s a departure from everything you’ve done before. It’s a risk, but a calculated one I’m sure you and Olivia have considered. I’ve seen a lot of facets to your roles leading up to this one. I’ve seen how tough you can be. Pure steel at the press conference. I imagine there’s not much, given your talent and personality, that you can’t do if you set your mind to it.”

  “My life has certainly given me personal experiences to draw upon to use in my acting.”

  “You’ve been through a lot. Stuff that would’ve defeated a weaker person.” Max angled his head. “I think you’re stronger than you realize.”

  “That’s what Fanny says, but she loves me. She has to say those things.”

  “Maybe in time you’ll discover we’re both right.”

  “What did you do with your time off?” I wanted to change the subject. Get off the topic of me and whether I was weak or strong.

  “Besides getting stuck in traffic?” he asked, glancing down and removing his napkin from his lap.

  “You did leave at a busy time.”

  “Is it ever not busy on an LA freeway?” Setting the napkin on the table, he lifted his gaze, and his eyes met mine once more.

  “I forget you’re not from around here. The answer is no. Even at the oddest times of the night, the streets can be inexplicably congested. Were you able to do anything for fun?”

  “I went swimming.” The blue in his eyes brightened, reminding me of the sun on the surface of the pool.

  Had that been just this morning? It seemed ages ago. The world seemed to be a different place now because of him.

  “Where? Here?” My brow creased as I tried to recall if I’d seen him in the pool.

  “The ocean. Between Venice Beach and Santa Monica.”

  “That’s some distance, even just to walk.”

  “I swam farther in San Diego.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous?” I swallowed. “Rip currents. Sharks. That kind of thing.”

  “I don’t swim where the undertow is bad. And I’ve never seen a shark.”

  “Just because you can’t see something dangerous doesn’t mean it’s not there, lurking beneath the surface.”

  “It’s beautiful in the ocean. The reward is worth the risk.” His gaze suddenly intensified, becoming piercingly direct. “What are you afraid of, Hollie?”

  Were we still talking about swimming, or had we segued into us?

  “I’m afraid of a lot of things. I know far too well the things that could go wrong.” In the unpredictable waters of the ocean, and with relationships. I dropped my chin, whispering, “My mother drowned. Her parents too. Their car was swept away during a flash flood on a rural road between the ocean and the land on Vancouver Island.”

  “I didn’t remember the details of your grandparents being in your bio. I’m sorry.”

  Max’s voice was gentle, and I lifted my chin to see his expression mirrored his tone. He stretched out his hand. I reached for it, the inner clamor quieting when he curled his fingers around mine.

  “So, you don’t like the ocean?”

  “I love it,” I stated emphatically. “The limitless stretch of blue. The sunsets and sunrises. The sound of the water when it meets the shore, sometimes hissing softly as if exhaling a breath after a long journey, sometimes crashing into the sand as if in a hurry to reach it. But I love it, knowing its capricious nature and giving it the respect it’s due.”

  “I’d like you to come swimming with me sometime.”

  “Maybe.” I withdrew my hand and changed the subject, directing him to safer topics, and he let me. “What other things do you like to do with your free time?”

  “I work pretty hard. I don’t get a lot of free time.”

  “I guess you don’t.”

  “Don’t feel bad for me. I like my job. Some assignments much more than others.” His lips curved, and so did mine. “And you work pretty damn hard too.”

  I nodded, and the exhaustion from my day sneaked up on me. I yawned, barely quick enough to get my hand up to cover my mouth.

  “I wondered when it would hit you.”

  “What?”

  “The food. The planning with Olivia. The hours perched on a foot-wide pedestal. The workout that left you trembling. The very little sleep you got before you started this day.”

  “How—”

  “I sleep just on the other side of the door. I can see the light. Hear you tossing and turning until near dawn.”

  “You don’t miss much.”

  “Not when it comes to you.” Max pushed back from the table and stood, slanting his eyes toward the bedroom. “You should get some rest.” His voice and his expression changed, the gentle retreating behind the seemingly unbreakable mask. “You have another big day tomorrow.”

  “You’re right.”

  As I stood, I stumbled, tripping on the hem of my robe. He caught me, his touch both steadying and comforting. Even through the thick robe, his hands on my upper arms were warm.

  “Got you again.” A grin cracked his mask.

  “We do seem to be developing a pattern.” I smiled softly back.

  He released my arms and lifted one hand to trace my curved lips with his thumb. I shivered, and his eyes darkened.

  “You should get to bed.” He dropped his hand, but I stayed put.

  “But we didn’t even get to talk about your salary. We decided things in a rush back from Ocean Beach. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “You’re not taking advantage. What we agreed
to is just enough. I mean, it’s fair. Market rate for round-the-clock protection. But even if it weren’t, I would do it. I want you safe, Hollie. This is more than just a job to me. From the beginning, it’s been more. You believe me, don’t you?” His voice thick with sincerity, he narrowed his eyes as they searched mine.

  “I believe you,” I said, and relief brightened his gaze. “But . . .”

  “We can revisit everything if you want to after your birthday.”

  “I want you to come with me,” I blurted out. “To my party in OB as a friend. Not as my bodyguard.”

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I can’t keep you safe as a friend.”

  “It’s a private party at the Deck Bar. They have their own security. Don’t say no. Would you at least think about it?”

  “A private party?”

  I nodded.

  “No media?”

  I shook my head. “Just Fanny and Ash, the Dirt Dogs, and the rest of my OB friends. Oh, and Ernie too.”

  “Yes, I’d like to go. To be with you as a friend. But until the party in public, I’m not a friend or anything else. I’m your bodyguard, nothing more.” A shadow passed over his face. “Remember that it’s not what I want. But it’s the way it has to be until you turn eighteen.”

  “Good.” I wanted to jump up and down, but I kept it dignified. He’d agreed and was going. “Great.”

  I smiled, and Max did too. I wanted to trace his lips the way he’d traced mine. Feeling brave, I moved toward him, but when he took a step back, I stopped.

  “Bed, Hollie.” Serious now, he crossed his arms over his chest and pointed with his head.

  I obeyed, but I did it with a smile on my mouth and my heart light. Maximillian Cash had seemed immovable. But I knew better now.

  I tossed the robe over the back of the high-backed chair beside the bed, naked in the lamplight, but I wasn’t cold. My thoughts on the man on the other side of the closed door, I remembered how hot it had been being fed by his hand.

  My body strung tight like a drawn bow, I was no longer the least bit tired. I hadn’t yawned a single time, though I had moisturized my skin, flossed and brushed my teeth, the usual things I did to get ready for bed.