by Maisey Yates
“I don’t know. Pete or some photographer lurking somewhere.”
At this point, Julian couldn’t just chalk her concerns to paranoia. He had taken extra precautions with this outing and had not provided Pete, or anyone, with an advance itinerary. “We’ve left Pete on land.” He tested the clasp of the bra. “Shouldn’t we free these beauties? They’ve been cooped up for so long. They need the sun.”
She tossed her head back and laughed. Her large black sunglasses slipped out of her hair and tumbled onto the deck floor. “They’re not cooped up. They’re fine!”
In order to convince her, Julian would have to put skin in the game. He stepped out of his shorts and dived headfirst into the water. He braced himself for the frigid bite of the Pacific, except the bay was warm and welcoming. He broke the surface in time to catch Nina slipping off her bikini top. She dived in after him, the breeze making a sail out of her loose hair.
Julian swam over and caught up with her beneath the surface. While his hands explored her slick body, he closed his mouth on one of her tight nipples. He sucked hard until a faint plea escaped her. Then he kissed her full lips.
When he broke away, she splashed him with water. “Happy now?”
Julian turned his face up to the sun. “I may die of happiness!”
She giggled. “I love you when you’re like this.”
“Like what?” he asked, swimming circles around her.
“Playful, wild, sexy.”
“Yeah?” What he said next surprised them both. “I think I love you, period.”
Nina stared at him, blinking. Drops of water clung to her long lashes. She was stunningly beautiful. Julian took a deep breath, pacing himself before he did something crazy like propose marriage.
She swam to him and wrapped her limbs around his body like an octopus, gripping tight. He held her close and they bobbed in the water, the sun hard on their shoulders. She whispered in his ear, “You only think you do?”
Looking for a way to avoid the question, he kissed the spot where a vein pulsed at her neck.
She shivered despite the heat. “Let me know when you’re sure. Okay?”
He slipped a hand into her bikini bottom. “Let me know when you’re close.”
They were going to do playful, wild and sexy things all day. That was the plan.
* * *
Nina was overwhelmed with emotion. When she felt like this (but when had she ever felt like this?), the impulse to write was strong. Only, she could not find her journal. It had been missing for weeks. She was pretty sure she’d left it in New York. But what to do in the meantime? She was so methodical and hated to start a new journal before filling the pages of an old one.
They stopped for a late lunch at a seafood shack. The place was nearly empty. Over conch fritters and beer, they talked awhile. When Julian left for the men’s room, Nina borrowed a pen from the waitress and jotted on the back of a paper menu.
Journal Entry
It’s love. It’s love. It’s love.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
On the first day of October, Julian gathered the full cast at Sand Castle for the first read-through. With Grace’s blessing, they’d taken over the hotel. She gave them permission to film a total of five scenes on-site and to use the cigar room for rehearsals and meetings through preproduction. The offer, however, wasn’t without conditions. Frank had promised to throw a blowout wrap party on-site.
The cigar room, or Knight’s Landing, as Nina called it, was fitted with a long buffet table to accommodate the cast and production staff. Julian stood at the head of the table to welcome them all. Before he uttered a word, he glanced down at Nina, seated to his right, and she nodded her encouragement. They’d been on this journey together since the start. She might be the only person in the room who saw through his mask of self-confidence, and that was saying something considering an ex-girlfriend was present.
Julian cleared his throat. “Everyone, welcome to our first table read.”
The cinematographer, who had flown in from New Hampshire a few days early to “get some fishing in,” raised his hand. Eyeing the custom humidors built into the walls, he said, “Will you be handing out cigars at the end of the day?”
Everyone laughed, and the ice wall of tension rising in him shattered. Every person at the table was a seasoned professional. If he could trust them and the process—if he could trust himself—things might work out.
“My writing partner, Nina, and I have a clear vision for this film, and we hope it’s one you share. We’ve labored over every word and, for that reason, I ask that you keep to the script as much as possible. Outside that, as a director, I’m interested in the choices you’ll make to bring these characters to life. Pierce, thank you for playing our charismatic con man. You’re the man for the job.” More laughter erupted. “And, Bettina…” Julian turned to face the woman who had shaped his past and who had a role in his future. But no sooner than he’d said her name, the general mood flattened. It was all the proof he needed to confirm his suspicions. Everyone, excluding Nina, doubted they could work together. He had to address those doubts head-on. “There’s no one else I would have wanted to play Amanda. You were my first and only choice. I thank you for trusting me.”
All eyes were on Bettina now. She never wasted an opportunity to shine. Addressing the room, she said, “Guys, you may not know this, but Julian and I have a bit of history.” Her words were met with the low rumble of laughter. “I can vouch for him. We’re in capable hands. Plus we’ve got a great script. And let’s be honest, shooting in Miami isn’t exactly a hardship. So, let’s do this. Okay?”
Julian met and kept her gaze for a brief moment, hoping to communicate his gratitude. She lowered her eyes and studied her impeccably manicured nails, code that she was ready to move on. Julian clasped his hands together. “We’ve got twenty-eight days to wrap this up. Let’s do this.”
He lowered himself in his seat and straightaway reached for Nina’s hand under the table. She mingled her fingers with his. As things stood, Julian was hopeful that he and Bettina would crack on and get the job done. But he was certain that he and Nina had a future.
Julian flipped open his copy of the script. “‘Day. Pool. Amanda floats on her back. The man who spent the night approaches, fully dressed, and tells her that he’s leaving. Amanda swims to the pool’s edge.’”
The actor read his lines. “‘Gotta go, babe. Let’s do this again soon.’”
Bettina read hers with the perfect mix of flirtatiousness and arrogance. “‘But not too soon. Okay?’”
* * *
At the first break, Nina had excused herself and left the room. When she didn’t return, Julian delayed starting up again and went after her. Something about her rod-stiff posture when she’d walked out made him worry. He found her sitting alone in the garden, silently sobbing. He rushed to her.
“What’s the matter, love?” he said, kneeling before her. “Why are you crying?”
She spoke through her hands. “I’m not crying.”
“Then what’s all this?”
“I don’t know.”
He pried her hands away from her face and lifted her chin to inspect her face. Her brown eyes were dry, but he wasn’t reassured. She might not be crying, but she certainly was trembling. He cupped her face and kissed her eyelids. Her eyelashes fluttered against his lips.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered.
“That was a lot,” she said.
“The table read? You don’t think it’s going well?”
“No!” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s going great, better than I could have imagined.”
He stroked her hair. “Then what is it?”
“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” she said. “A lot of the time it’s just me alone with my computer and the voices in my head. Today it f
elt like I belonged to something, and I…don’t know.”
“Oh, love. Come here.” He gathered her trembling body in his arms. He’d never seen her this way, and it tore him up. “You belong.”
She belonged to him, but he couldn’t say that without freaking her out.
“Sorry.” She extracted herself from his embrace. “I didn’t expect to get so emotional.”
“Don’t worry. I understand.”
He pulled her up to her feet. She looked up at him, a glint of pride in her yes. “You were good in there,” she said. “Really good.”
“I may just be the next Scorsese.”
“Oh, God! Help me!”
She was her playful self again, and Julian exhaled with relief. His world had spun off its axis just now. He didn’t care if he had a room full of people waiting—he would have taken all the time in the world to get her to smile again.
She raised herself on the tips of her toes and kissed him. “Thank you.”
“No, love, no.” Julian buried his face in her hair. She smelled sweeter than any flower in the garden. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A mid-October tropical storm caused Midnight Sun to wrap a day late. But once Julian had called it a wrap late on a Thursday afternoon, it was a party. The cast, crew and friends they’d made during the shoot gathered by the pool. The hotel staff was prepared, marching out with minibottles of Piper-Heidsieck fitted with straws and cigars for anyone who cared to smoke. The rollout happened under Grace’s hawkish eye, her mouth gathered in a tight frown.
Nina approached her. “You must be happy to have us out of your hair soon.”
Julian had booked the entire hotel, filling every room with the cast and heads of each creative department in order to have the privacy and freedom needed to film. Pretty soon the caravan would clear out. Nina was feeling anxious about it. She and Julian had not discussed the future. They’d been too busy. During filming, she’d stepped in as the script manager, making sure the actors kept to their lines and monitoring for lapses in continuity. This had given her a front seat to all the action. It had been an exhilarating experience, but it was over. So now what?
“Not really,” Grace said.
“Are you saying you’ll miss us?” Nina exclaimed. “Don’t get sentimental on me now!”
“I would never.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m nearing the end of an era. It’s going to be an adjustment.”
Nina felt sure there was more Grace wanted to say, but she was trapped in her role of mistress of the manor. “Come with me.”
Grace slipped her a sharp glance. “Where to?”
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“Impossible. I’m working.”
“This place runs itself. Come out for a walk with me. When was the last time you’ve been to the beach? And it’s just across the street!”
Grace grunted, and Nina took it as a yes. She swiped two minibottles of champagne off a tray, threaded an arm around Grace’s and dragged her all the way to the front gates.
“We’ll be right back,” Nina said to the guards.
“And if we’re not, send for me,” Grace added.
As soon as they made it across Ocean Drive, Grace Guzman loosened up. She slipped off her tailored cherry-red jacket. Nina had no trouble convincing her to kick off her stilettos, and together they trekked across the sand toward the shore. It was sunset, and the surf roared at their feet.
“Give me that bottle,” Grace said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Nina handed her a minibottle and raised her own. “Cheers?”
“I have nothing to be cheery about,” she said flatly. “¡Salud!”
Nina decided to ask the question that had been burning inside her for months now. “Exactly what is your problem?”
“Men are my problem,” she said. “My divorce is final, and my father has decided to sell the hotel.”
“You’re selling the Sand Castle?” Nina cried. “Why?”
“We love it, but it’s a money pit. I’m going to have a hard time letting go.”
So much made sense now. The way they’d catered to Julian and his cast and his crew and tolerated the imposed inconvenience of hours of filming, it all finally made sense. No wonder she’d kicked Nina out of the Oasis the instant a Hollywood star came calling. The hotel needed the business.
“Sorry about the divorce,” Nina said, ashamed for having skipped over such a seismic life event in the first place.
“Actually, I’ll drink to that.” Grace raised her bottle. “Cheers!”
“That’s the spirit.” She wished that she and Grace had met under different circumstances. They might’ve become friends. She had one more question. She was pushing it, but the bubbly made her bold. “Do you think you and Francisco Cortes could be a thing?”
“I don’t need a thing,” Grace said. “Not right now.”
“But you could use some company,” Nina said. “Who will drink with you in the garden when I’m gone?”
“How about you and Mr. Knight?”
“What about us?” She turned to face the ocean. So much for being bold.
“I’m sorry. As a rule, I don’t comment on the hotel guests’ private affairs.”
“It’s okay. That’s why I brought you out here. You can forget your rules.”
“I’ll say this—people come to Miami to fool around. It rarely means anything. Usually, it ends with regret.”
The truth roared in Nina’s ears as loud as the surf. She and Julian were not fooling around. If their affair ended tomorrow, she would not regret one sun-filled day, one night spent in his arms. But she did not want it to end. Today was particularly tough, because what were they celebrating if not the end?
“Now I’ve made you cry!” Grace cursed. “I should have stuck to the rules.”
“Am I crying?” Nina wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I was going to say that you two look like the real deal. I’ve seen enough nonsense to know the difference.”
Hope crashed into Nina with the force of the waves. Validation from an impartial and dispassionate observer such as Grace was priceless. It meant that she hadn’t imagined this grand love affair. It wasn’t all in her head. And what a relief! She was so in love with Julian, so wildly in love with him, she could not stand to lose him.
Nina couldn’t overthink her present predicament. Grace was smiling at her, and it was distracting as hell. It was the first time the woman had smiled at her with genuine warmth, and it was luminous. If she weren’t careful, she might fall in love with Grace.
When they got back to Sand Castle, she and Grace parted ways. The manager hurried off to her office, and Nina set out to find Julian. The party was unraveling. Bettina and Pierce had slipped away earlier with a bottle of champagne. Everyone else was slumped on lounge beds, partied out. Julian, however, had not lost steam. He stood with a foot propped up on a chair, telling a story to a captive audience. Seeing him this loose and animated made her realize just how much pressure he must have been under these past months.
She approached, and he drew her close and dipped her into a mock Hollywood kiss. Nina played along, swooning like a screen siren. Then he gazed into her eyes. “I think we’re done here.”
Nina knew what he meant, but wished he’d phrased it differently. She didn’t protest when he carried her off to the elevator.
“To think I hated this tin can when I first got here,” he said. “Look how handy it’s been. Do you remember the first time we did this?”
“I coughed up on your shirt.”
“And I was completely charmed.” He squeezed her tighter. “It must be this house. It has powers.”
“Grace’s family will be selling it soon. Maybe you should buy, rename the place Knight’s Landing.”
“I love this house, but I don’t ever want to be here without you.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. Julian carried her to the door, over the threshold and into the bedroom. He dropped her unceremoniously on the bed and plopped down alongside her. He would break any bed he owned; Nina was sure of it.
Nina rolled onto her side and raked her fingers through his hair. Eyes shut, expression soft, his profile remained strong and defined—the not-so-classic matinee idol. She was not a performer, but she would gladly play the role of his screen siren. There really wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for him. That included tossing her pride aside and opening up to him. “I have to tell you something.”
Eyes closed, he said, “What’s that, love?”
Nina called to the angels of the fresco for strength one last time. “I may be in love with you.”
He slid her a look, eyes brimming with equal parts affection and amusement. She’d hedged and he knew it. “Want to tell me when you’re sure?”
Her answer was buried somewhere deep in her kiss.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
What was next for them?
The question kept Julian up well after Nina had fallen asleep, her cheek pressed to his chest. When she breathed, her breasts pressed into his ribs. Gradually his breathing synced with hers. In every way they were one, except they lived on opposite coasts.
Last night they’d cleared one hurdle—their feelings for each other were more or less clear. Where were they going to live? He was making plans to return to California in a week to get on with editing. Would she come? Maybe she could be persuaded to fly out with him. She could write anywhere; wasn’t that what she’d said? His house on the Hills wasn’t as romantic as this old mansion that had become their home, but it offered plenty of space for her to spread out pages on the floor, and the view from his desk was inspiring.
Julian’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, and the screen glowed green in the night. He ignored it. He was too comfortable, and he didn’t want to wake Nina. Then the damn thing buzzed again and again and again. Nina moaned in her sleep and rolled onto her back. He snatched the phone and tapped on the screen to silence it. It was two in the morning, and he had a missed call from his publicist and five text messages from Kat.
