Mind Over Matter

by Nora Roberts

  dug into a bowl of candied almonds. “That’s Dereck, the patriarch. He made his money in shipping—and smuggling. He’s determined that his children carry on his business, by his rules. That’s Angelica.”

  “In the hot tub.”

  “Yes, she’s his second wife. She married him for his money and power and enjoys every minute of them. But she hates his kids.”

  “And they hate her right back.”

  “That’s the idea.” Pleased with him, A.J. patted his leg. “Now the setup is that Angelica’s illegitimate daughter from a long-ago relationship is going to show up. That’s my client.”

  “Like mother like daughter?”

  “Oh, yes, she gets to play the perfect bitch. Her name’s Lavender.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “You see, Angelica never told Dereck she had a daughter, so when Lavender shows up, she’s going to cause all sorts of problems. Now Beau—that’s Dereck’s eldest son—”

  “No more names.” With a sigh, he swung his arm over the back of the sofa. “I’ll just watch all the skin and diamonds.”

  “Just because you’d rather watch pelicans migrate— Here she is.”

  A.J. bit her lip. She tensed, agonizing with her client over each line, each move, each expression. And she would, David thought with a smile, fluff him off if he mentioned she had a personal involvement. Just business? Not by a long shot. She was pulling for her ingenue and ten percent didn’t enter into it.

  “Oh, she’s good,” A.J. breathed at the commercial break. “She’s really very good. A season—maybe two—of this, and we’ll be sifting through offers for feature films.”

  “Her timing’s excellent.” He might consider the show itself a glitzy waste of time, but he appreciated talent. “Where did she study?”

  “She didn’t.” Smug, A.J. sat back. “She took a bus from Kansas City and ended up in my reception area with a homemade portfolio and a handful of high school plays to her credit.”

  He gave in and tried the candied almonds himself. “You usually sign on clients that way?”

  “I usually have Abe or one of the more maternal members of my staff give them a lecture and a pat on the head.”

  “Sensible. But?”

  “She was different. When she wouldn’t budge out of the office for the second day running, I decided to see her myself. As soon as I saw her I knew. Not that way,” she answered, understanding his unspoken question. “I make it a policy not to sign a client no matter what feelings might come through. She had looks and a wonderful voice. But more, she had the drive. I don’t know how many auditions I sent her on in the first few weeks. But I figured if she survived that, we were going to roll.” She watched the next glittery set of Empire appear on the screen. “And we’re rolling.”

  “It took guts to camp out in one of the top agencies in Hollywood.”

  “If you don’t have guts in this town, you’ll be flattened in six months.”

  “Is that what keeps you on top, A.J.?”

  “It’s part of it.” She found the curve of his shoulder an easy place to rest her head. “You can’t tell me you think you’re where you are today because you got lucky.”

  “No. You start off thinking hard work’s enough, then you realize you have to take risks and shed a little blood. Then just when everything comes together and a project’s finished and successful, you have to start another and prove yourself all over again.”

  “It’s a lousy business.” A.J. cuddled against him.

  “Yep.”

  “Why do you do it?” Forgetting the series, forgetting her client, A.J. turned her head to look at him.

  “Masochism.”

  “No, really.”

  “Because every time I watch something I did on that little screen, it’s like Christmas. And I get every present I ever wanted.”

  “I know.” Nothing he could have said could have hit more directly home. “I attended the Oscars a couple of years ago and two of my clients won. Two of them.” She let her eyes close as she leaned against him. “I sat in the audience watching, and it was the biggest thrill of my life. I know some people would say you’re not asking for enough when you get your thrills vicariously, but it’s enough, more than enough, to know you’ve had a part in something like that. Maybe your name isn’t a household word, but you were the catalyst.”

  “Not everyone wants his name to be a household word.”

  “Yours could be.” She shifted again to look at him. “I’m not just saying that because—” Because I love you. The phrase was nearly out before she checked it. When he lifted his brow at her sudden silence, she continued quickly. “Because of our relationship. With the right material, the right crew, you could be one of the top ten producers in the business.”

  “I appreciate that.” Her eyes were so earnest, so intense. He wished he knew why. “I don’t think you throw around compliments without thinking about them first.”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve seen your work, and I’ve seen the way you work. And I’ve been around long enough to know.”

  “I don’t have any desire, not at this point, anyway, to tie myself up with any of the major studios. The big screen’s for fantasies.” He touched her cheek. It was real; it was soft. “I prefer dealing in reality.”

  “So produce something real.” It was a challenge—she knew it. By the look in his eyes, he knew it, as well.

  “Such as?”

  “I have a script.”

  “A.J.—”

  “No, hear me out. David.” She said his name in frustration when he rolled her under him on the sofa. “Just listen a minute.”

  “I’d rather bite your ear.”

  “Bite it all you want. After you listen.”

  “Negotiations again?” He drew himself up just to look down at her. Her eyes were lit with enthusiasm, her cheeks flushed with anticipation of excitement to come. “What script?” he asked, and watched her lips curve.

  “I’ve done some business with George Steiger. You know him?”

  “We’ve met. He’s an excellent writer.”

  “He’s written a screenplay. His first. It just happened to come across my desk.”

  “Just happened?”

  She’d done him a few favors. He was asking for another. Doing favors without personal gain at the end didn’t fit the image she’d worked hard on developing. “We don’t need to get into that. It’s wonderful, David, really wonderful. It deals with the Cherokees and what they called the Trail of Tears, when they were driven from Georgia to reservations in Oklahoma. Most of the point of view is through a small child. You sense the bewilderment, the betrayal, but there’s this strong thread of hope. It’s not your ‘ride off into the sunset’ Western, and it’s not a pretty story. It’s real. You could make it important.”

  She was selling, and doing a damn good job of it. It occurred to him she’d probably never pitched a deal while curled up on the sofa before. “A.J., what makes you think that if I were interested, Steiger would be interested in me?”

  “I happened to mention that I knew you.”

  “Happened to again?”

  “Yes.” She smiled and ran her hands down to his hips. “He’s seen your work and knows your reputation. David, he needs a producer, the right producer.”

  “And so?”

  As if disinterested, she skimmed her fingertips up his back. “He asked if I’d mention it to you, all very informally.”

  “This is definitely informal,” he murmured as he fit his body against hers. “Are you playing agent, A.J.?”

  “No.” Her eyes were abruptly serious as she took his face in her hands. “I’m being your friend.”

  She touched him, more deeply, more sweetly, than any of their loving, any of their passion. For a moment he could find nothing to say. “Every time I think I’ve got a track on you, you switch lanes.”

  “Will you read it?”

  He kissed one cheek, then the other, in a gesture he’d seen her use
with her mother. It meant affection, devotion. He wondered if she understood. “I guess that means you can get me a copy.”

  “I just happened to have brought one home with me.” With a laugh, she threw her arms around him. “David, you’re going to love it.”

  “I’d rather love you.”

  She stiffened, but only for a heartbeat. Their loving was physical, she reminded herself. Deeply satisfying but only physical. When he spoke of love, it didn’t mean the emotions, but the body. It was all she could expect from him, and all he wanted from her.

  “Then love me now,” she murmured, and found his mouth with hers. “Love me now.”

  She drew him to her, tempting him to take everything at once, quickly, heatedly. But he learned that pleasure taken slowly, given gently, could be so much more gratifying. Because it was still so new, she responded to tenderness with hesitation. Her stomach fluttered when he skimmed her lips with his, offering, promising. She heard her own sigh escape, a soft, giving sound that whispered across his lips. Then he murmured her name, quietly, as if it were the only sound he needed to hear.

  No rush. His needs seemed to meld with her own. No hurry. Content, she let herself enjoy easy kisses that aroused the soul before they tempted the body. Relaxed, she allowed herself to thrill to the light caresses that made her strong enough to accept being weak.

  She wanted to feel him against her without boundaries. With a murmur of approval, she pulled his shirt over his head, then took her hands on a long stroke down his back. There was the strength she’d understood from the beginning. A strength she respected, perhaps even more now that his hands were gentle.

  When had she looked for gentleness? Her mind was already too clouded to know if she ever had. But now that she’d found it, she never wanted to lose it. Or him.

  “I want you, David.” She whispered the words along his cheek as she drew him closer.

  Hearing her say it made his heart pound. He’d heard the words before, but rarely from her and never with such quiet acceptance. He lifted his head to look down at her. “Tell me again.” As he took her chin in his hand, his voice was low and husky with emotion. “Tell me again, when I’m looking at you.”

  “I want you.”

  His mouth crushed down on hers, smothering any more words, any more thoughts. He seemed to need more; she thought she could feel it, though she didn’t know what to give. She offered her mouth, that his might hungrily meet it. She offered her body, that his could greedily take it. But she held back her heart, afraid he would take that, as well, and damage it.

  Clothes were peeled off as patience grew thin. He wanted to feel her against him, all the long length of her. He trembled when he touched her, but he was nearly used to trembling for her now. He ached, as he always ached. Light and subtle along her skin was the path of scent. He could follow it from her throat, to the hollow of her breasts, to the pulse at the inside of her elbows.

  She shuddered against him. Her body seemed to pulse, then sigh, with each touch, each stroke. He knew where the brush of a fingertip would arouse, or the nip of his teeth would inflame. And she knew his body just as intimately. Her lips would find each point of pleasure; her palms would stroke each flame higher.

  He grew to need. Each time he loved her, he came to need not only what she would give, but what she could. Each time he was more desperate to draw more from her, knowing that if he didn’t find the key, he’d beg. She could, simply because she asked for nothing, bring him to his knees.

  “Tell me what you want,” he demanded as she clung to him.

  “You. I want you.”

  She was hovering above the clouds that shook with lightning and thunder. The air was thick and heavy, the heat swirling. Her body was his; she gave it willingly. But the heart she struggled so hard to defend lost itself to him.

  “David.” All the love, all the emotion she felt, shimmered in his name as she pressed herself against him. “Don’t let me go.”

  They dozed, still wrapped together, still drowsily content. Though most of his weight was on her, she felt light, free. Each time they made love, the sense of her own freedom came stronger. She was bound to him, but more liberated than she had ever been in her life. So she lay quietly as his heart beat slowly and steadily against hers.

  “TV’s still on,” David murmured.

  “Uh-huh.” The late-night movie whisked by, sirens blaring, guns blasting. She didn’t care.

  She linked her hands behind his waist. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “A few more minutes like this and we’ll end up sleeping here tonight.”

  “That doesn’t matter, either.”

  With a laugh, he turned his face to kiss her neck where the skin was still heated from excitement. Reluctantly he shifted his weight. “You know, with a few minor changes, we could be a great deal more comfortable.”

  “In the bed,” she murmured in agreement, but merely snuggled into him.

  “For a start. I’m thinking more of the long term.”

  It was difficult to think at all when he was warm and firm against her. “Which long term?”

  “Both of us tend to do a lot of running around and overnight packing in order to spend the evening together.”

  “Mmmm. I don’t mind.”

  He did. The more content he became with her, the more discontent he became with their arrangement. I love you. The words seemed so simple. But he’d never spoken them to a woman before. If he said them to her, how quickly would she pull away and disappear from his life? Some risks he wasn’t ready to take. Cautious, he approached in the practical manner he thought she’d understand.

  “Still, I think we could come up with a more logical arrangement.”

  She opened her eyes and shifted a bit. He could see there was already a line between her brows. “What sort of arrangement?”

  He wasn’t approaching this exactly as he’d planned. But then he’d learned that his usual meticulous plotting didn’t work when he was dealing with A.J. “Your apartment’s convenient to the city, where we both happen to be working at the moment.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes had lost that dreamy softness they always had after loving. He wasn’t certain whether to curse himself or her.

  “We only work five days a week. My house, on the other hand, is convenient for getting away and relaxing. It seems a logical arrangement might be for us to live here during the week and spend weekends at my place.”

  She was silent for five seconds, then ten, while dozens of thoughts and twice as many warnings rushed through her mind. “A logical arrangement,” he called it. Not a commitment, an “arrangement.” Or more accurately, an amendment to the arrangement they’d already agreed on. “You want to live together.”

  He’d expected more from her, anything more. A flicker of pleasure, a gleam of emotion. But her voice was cool and cautious. “We’re essentially doing that now, aren’t we?”

  “No.” She wanted to distance herself, but his body kept hers trapped. “We’re sleeping together.”

  And that was all she wanted. His hands itched to shake her, to shake her until she looked, really looked, at him and saw what he felt and what he needed. Instead he sat up and, in the unselfconscious way she always admired, began to dress. Feeling naked and defenseless, she reached for her blouse.

  “You’re angry.”

  “Let’s just say I didn’t think we’d have to go to the negotiating table with this.”

  “David, you haven’t even given me five minutes to think it through.”

  He turned to her then, and the heat in his eyes had her bracing. “If you need to,” he said with perfect calm, “maybe we should just drop it.”

  “You’re not being fair.”

  “No, I’m not.” He rose then, knowing he had to get out, get away from her, before he said too much. “Maybe I’m tired of being fair with you.”

  “Damn it, David.” Half-dressed, she sprang up to face him. “You casually suggest that we should combine our living arrangeme
nts, then blow up because I need a few minutes to sort it through. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “It’s a habit I picked up when I starting seeing you.” He should have left. He knew he should have already walked out the door. Because he hadn’t, he grabbed her arms and pulled her closer. “I want more than sex and breakfast. I want more than a quick roll in the sheets when our schedules make it convenient.”