by Vi Keeland
Her eyebrows draw together.
“Salt,” I clarify. “You tried to do it discreetly, but I saw you throw it over your left shoulder a minute ago.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “But why would I throw it the other way?”
“It’s to ward off the devil by throwing it in his eyes, right?”
She wrinkles her nose, still confused at what I’m insinuating.
I point my eyes to Mr. Rock and Roll.
She shakes her head, but stifles a laugh.
“I’ve missed you,” I say quietly.
Her eyes dart to the other side of the table, to Tatiana and Dickhead. But neither one of them are paying attention. Tatiana is busy chewing his ear off about the similarities between filming movies and singing on stage.
“Me too,” she whispers, forlorn in her tone. She forks her lunch around aimlessly on her plate.
“So, can you give us a hint who your favorites are?” Tatiana asks Flynn as the conversation turns to the reality show.
“Nope. Not allowed.” He smiles and winks at Kate.
Knocking out a tooth from his Donny Osmond smile isn’t really an option in a room full of people, so I take the path I much prefer. I slip my hand under the table and rest it on top of Kate’s thigh. Her eyes bulge, but she quickly conceals her surprise. Thank god for skirts.
“Are you and Tatiana working on a project together?” Kate asks, her words falling quickly, nervously.
“We’re almost wrapped. It’s due out in October. Perfect Sense. Maybe you’ve heard of it?” Tatiana asks. You’d have to live under a rock to not have heard; the bestselling book is a widely anticipated blockbuster movie.
My hand inches up Kate’s thigh.
“Sure. It looks great.”
Another inch up. I’m midway between her knee and hip.
“How much longer do you have on your show?” I ask Kate.
“A little more than …” My hand slides up another inch and drops from the top of her thigh to the inside.
“Ummm …” She stares at me, then straightens in her seat and blinks a few times. “I’m sorry. What did you ask?”
I grin. And slide my hand up farther. I feel the heat resonate from between her legs now.
“I asked how much longer you have on your show.” I grip the inside of her thigh and pull her legs wider apart. Her breath does a sharp intake that only I seem to notice.
“The show lasts another six weeks.”
“That’s almost as long as it takes to film a movie,” Tatiana interjects.
My hand slides the rest of the way up, lightly skimming the lace edge of her panties. Kate’s eyes close and she takes a deep breath.
My phone rings, forcing me to remove my hand. “Yeah, Helen?”
Helen reminds me I have a meeting this afternoon and that I’ve also requested she call to help me escape if I wasn’t back in a half hour. “Thank you. I’ll be up shortly.”
Tatiana jumps on the opportunity. “Well, that’s my cue. I want a little alone time with Coop before I lose him back to run an empire. I’m sure you understand how hard it is to get alone time around here.” Tatiana winks at Flynn.
A flicker of something ignites in Kate’s eyes. Jealousy?
Flynn stands. “It was nice meeting you both.”
“You too.” Dickhead.
“Kate. It was good to see you.” I lean down, kiss her cheek and whisper, “My office, ten minutes.”
chapter thirteen
Kate
“Kate.” Miles catches my arm just as Flynn and I approach the entrance to the hangar, returning from lunch. “Joel needs to see you, Flynn. Kate and I have some things to discuss, she’ll meet you inside in a bit.” His tone is dismissive. “Why don’t we go talk in my office?” He asks like it’s a question, but he’s already steering me down the hall.
Not surprisingly, Miles’s office is nothing like his brother’s. It’s the same size and shape, even boasts a similar view, yet everything is exaggerated, rather than understated like Cooper’s. The walls are lined with framed movie posters, shelves are filled with awards and accolades. A round meeting table has a dozen tall piles of manuscripts.
“Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? A cocktail perhaps?”
I look over at the red couch Miles motions to. Definitely a casting couch. “No. I’m good. Thank you.”
He pours himself one and joins me, sitting a bit too close. “How is everything going, Kate?”
“Umm … good, I suppose.” I’m not clear on exactly what he’s referring to.
“Flynn really likes you.” He sips his drink, then reaches out and brushes my hair behind my shoulder. “I can see why. You’re a beautiful woman.”
I force a smile, resisting the urge to smack his hand away from me. “Thank you.”
“You seem a bit stressed lately. Things are a little off between you and Flynn. Is there anything I can do to help?” Miles’s leg brushes up against mine and his hand grips my shoulder and rubs.
Instinctively, I lean the other direction, pulling my shoulder from his reach. “I’m fine. I don’t need any help. But thank you.”
Miles gulps from his glass, watching me over the brim as he drinks. His stare makes me uncomfortable, but I stand my ground, not looking away. The glimmer in his eyes changes, the flirty mock caring gone, he squints. “Let me get to the point then. This is scripted reality TV. You and Flynn will get ratings. I need you to be a little friendlier with him.”
“A little friendlier?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure that I do.”
“You’re the gambler, Kate. How much do you think doing what I ask increases your odds of staying on the show?”
Standing, I offer an insincere smile. “Is there anything else?”
He leans back on the couch, swallows the remnants of his glass and grins at me. “I like a woman that knows how to play the game. That will be all.”
Sitting in my Jeep, I inwardly debate one more time before turning the ignition key. It’s been almost an hour since Cooper left lunch. No doubt he’s growing impatient by now. But I just can’t. His hand under the table was enough of a reminder of what that man makes me feel. What I haven’t given Flynn a real chance to make me feel. I can’t give winning my all while I’m anywhere near Cooper Montgomery. A reminder of why I’m doing this show is undoubtedly what I need right now.
The half hour drive does little to clear my head. I’m still thinking about the heat radiating from Cooper’s hand on my thigh as I pull into Mom’s driveway. I take a deep breath and shut my eyes for a full ten minutes before venturing inside.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Mom stands and rolls her portable oxygen tank over to greet me.
“Hi, Mom.” Her color is better, her step quicker; the new tank is definitely working. “You look good. How are you feeling?”
“I feel great.” She’d say the same thing if her oxygen saturation level was below eighty and her organs were quietly shutting down. She never wants me to worry.
“For a change, I believe you.” I grin and kiss her on the cheek. “Kyle at therapy?”
“Yes. He’s doing great with it. There hasn’t been any improvement yet physically. But his spirit is doing so much better. That clinical trial you got him into is the first hope I’ve seen in him since before the accident.” My little brother Kyle and I were always close. Even as kids, when other siblings were busy fighting, we stuck together. But ever since the accident, our lives have bound together tighter. My happiness is no longer singular … it’s codependent on his. Hearing that he is showing any sign of improvement, physical or mental, lifts my heart. I’m already glad I came.
I usually visit twice a week to check in on them, but with the show filming at odd hours, I haven’t been by in ten days. They have almost round-the-clock aides, but I still need to see for myself they’re okay. A friend of mine, Mark, has stopped in to check on them for me and called with reports. He’s a year behind me in school.
“You know, Mark is very handsome. And single.”
“Please tell me you weren’t interrogating Mark again, Mom. We’re just friends. You need to stop trying to fix us up.”
“You need to make more time for a social life. I can’t remember the last time you talked about a man.” An hour ago I was sitting next to a man I’m dating on national television and had another man’s hand inching up my skirt.
“I’m good, Mom, really. School keeps me busy.” She has no idea I took a year off and decided to try to win the prize on Throb. Luckily, none of her friends watch reality TV.
“You find love when you least expect it. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times.” You can say that again.
We sit and talk for a while, and inevitably the conversation turns to finances. It’s been a consuming topic since Dad died and all of the ugly truths came out. “The bank sent an appraiser over.” She sighs.
“What are you talking about?”
“Yesterday, a man came by to look at the house.”
“How do you know the bank sent him?”
“Because he told me they did.” Oh geez. Being married to one of the world’s biggest card sharks for thirty years certainly didn’t affect my mother the same as it did me. I’m always looking for the sleight of hand. Mom is way too trustworthy.
“Did he leave a card?” I have a power of attorney on file with her bank and mortgage company. They should have called me if they were sending someone over. Builders and potential investors have been snooping around since the house first went into foreclosure.
“No.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t recall. It was something odd though. One of those names that has a dark ring to it.” She shrugs and sips her tea. “But it went with what he looked like, I suppose.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was tall, bald … wore all black. Looked tough. He was very nice though. Just looked a bit rough around the edges. At first, when he rang the doorbell, I was sure he was a friend of your father’s. I’m surprised you don’t know about it. He knew your name. I guess the bank must have given it to him.”
We finish our tea and sit around talking for a while. I have such limited time with Mom that I make the decision not to spend it worrying about something I can’t change right this minute. I make a mental note to call the bank tomorrow.
Spending the afternoon with my mother reinforced that I’m making the right choices, although it doesn’t make it any easier to forget the feeling of being near Cooper today. My heart leaped just seeing him. Knowing how much he wants me made it that much more difficult. Remembering how it felt to have his hand on the inside of my thigh, inching it’s way up to the heat between my legs, made it impossible. I have no willpower around that man. There is no choice but to keep away from him. And work on rekindling whatever sparks Flynn and I may have had before Cooper Montgomery walked into my life.
My phone buzzes as I turn onto the crowded Pacific Coast Highway. I press the button on the dashboard and the blaring music is replaced by the sound of a man’s voice.
“Kid?” I’ve never talked to Frank Mars on the phone before, yet I know it’s him with just that one simple word.
“Hi Frank.”
“You busy tonight?”
“You’re married, Frank. I can’t go out with you.”
“In my dreams, kid. In my dreams.” I can tell he’s smiling through the phone. “Listen, Grip can’t make it tonight. The bum just called, something about Bernice’s bursitis. We need a fourth. You free?”
I am, but I’m also wary of whom I’d be sitting next to. “Umm … is Ben playing tonight?”
“You’re killing me. You got a thing for Ben? If you like old men, I’ll drop my wife faster than you can say ‘don’t let the door hit your fat ass on the way out, Sharon.’”
I laugh. “No worries. My heart belongs to you, Frank. I was just asking so I’d know if I should bring the cufflinks I won from him last time.”
“Yeah. Bring ’em. But I’m betting he doesn’t win them back. And you haven’t met Carl yet either. We won’t let on who you are. He can be your sucker tonight.”
Disappointed, yet relieved Cooper isn’t going to be one of the four, I agree to play. This morning I had two men who seemed interested, yet tonight I have no plans. Dating a man who has five other girlfriends makes for a very lonely Friday night.
chapter fourteen
Cooper
“Your father would be proud right now, Cooper,” Ben Seidman says, a stack of papers sitting in front of each of us. Red and green tabs stick out from the sides, indicating dozens of places we both need to sign to formalize the deal.
Ben’s right—my father would be proud. Co-produced movies are a rarity in the film business, especially when the two production houses are the number one and number two producers in the world. But if any two companies can make it work, it’s Diamond Entertainment and Montgomery Productions. My father’s best friend is a formidable opponent, and will make an even better feature film partner.
“Fucking Grip,” Ben grumbles as he reaches the bottom of the signing pile. “The old bastard was whipped before he retired, now he’s all but hog tied to Bernice.”
I’d forgotten it was card night. “You need a fourth?”
“Nah. Frank got someone. Don’t you have a hot date or something better to do than sit around losing all your hard-earned money anyway?” He signs the last document and tosses his pen on the desk, leaning back in his chair. “Isn’t anything sacred anymore? Jack and I, we never missed once in twenty-eight years.”
I slide the paper he just signed across the desk to my side. One more signature and we’ll be changing the film industry as we know it. I lift my Montblanc, thinking I’m putting this pen aside. The one Dad used to ink his first film deal is sitting in my top right hand desk drawer. This one should keep it company. “Who’s filling in tonight?”
“That cute little card shark girl.”
I put the pen down before signing on the last empty line. “Ben,” I say, “there’s one more condition to this deal …”
Case of disgusting Budweiser in hand, I stroll into the studio, letting the loud slam of the door echo through the tall, open space. My eyes are already trained on Kate when she looks up. Eyes wide as saucers, sharp inhale—she’s surprised to see me. Tonight is all about winning. I’m going to use the element of surprise to my advantage.
“I thought you were going to be Ben,” Frank says.
“Change of plans. Ben’s not coming,” I respond to Frank, but my eyes don’t leave Kate.
“Whadda you mean, Ben’s not coming? He hasn’t missed a night in twenty-five years.”
“Twenty-eight,” I correct him.
“Is he all right?”
“He’s fine.”
“What the hell was so important that he would miss? It’s not like Ben.”
“I’d tell you why he can’t make it, but I wouldn’t want to break the no-business-talk rule before I even sit down.”
“Whatever,” Frank grumbles and waves my comment off. “You remember Kate?”
“I do.” I arch an eyebrow at Kate and nod.
“Carl hasn’t played with Kate yet. I told him to take it easy on her.” Frank winks, shuffling the deck.
Aggressive women were always a turn-off for me. But aggressive card-playing women—that’s apparently a whole different ballgame. Kate folds the first two hands, Carl raking in the pot both times. Hand three, even I caught Carl’s facial tic when he picked up his cards, indicating he thought he had a winner. I nearly laughed out loud when Kate took two cards and her eyes bulged from her head. Even a novice card player would cover up better than that. But Carl bought her shit—hook, line and sinker. And Frank and I quickly bowed out to enjoy the show.
On his raise, Carl pushes in a tall stack of chips. Kate actually nibbles on her lip a bit, pretending to debate whether she should go all in or not. The smile on Carl’s face when
she shrugs and pensively pushes her chips in is absolutely priceless. He turns over three queens, gloating, hands already reaching toward the center of the table.
“Does this beat three of a kind?” Kate asks innocently, laying a full house down on the table.
We let poor Carl lose his shirt, not letting him in on the joke until we take the usual bathroom break. “You guys are assholes,” he mutters, throwing his cards down on the table before stalking off to the restroom. Frank follows him out, chanting, “You got beat by a girl. You got beat by a girl.”
“You must have gotten lost on your way to my office after lunch this afternoon,” I say when the door slams shut, leaving just the two of us. “Avoiding me won’t solve the problem.” The room is so quiet I can hear the distinct hitch in her breath, even though she tries to conceal the effect my words have on her.
“What will?” She busies herself collecting the cards from the table and speaks without looking at me.
“Working through it.”
“Am I supposed to believe you’re here by coincidence? If you want something, set it free, if it comes back to you, it was meant to be … or something like that?”
“Do you believe in that stuff?”
She pauses for a moment, considering my question, and then begins shuffling again. “I think I do. Do you?”
“I’m more of the school of if you want something bad enough, pursue it aggressively until you wear it down and it gives in.”
Her mouth twitches with suppressed amusement, but she still doesn’t look up.
“You didn’t push my hand away today,” I say, my eyes never leaving her face.
“I didn’t want to make a scene.”
“You liked it there. The way my fingers traced the outline of the lace. I could feel the heat. You wanted me to dip my fingers inside and feel how wet you were as much as I did.”
She closes her eyes.
I stand and step around the table.
“It made me insane to see his hand on you,” I admit as I graze my knuckles lightly down her cheek. She still doesn’t look up.
