by Helen Conrad
She thanked the director and made her exit. As she swung the door shut, the shoulder strap of her bag caught on the doorknob. Her momentum was such that it threw her off balance, and she tripped down the three steps leading away from Bowman’s trailer. Shane was spared the embarrassment of finding herself sprawled on the ground by two strong arms that encircled her just before she landed.
“I thought you didn’t fall at men’s feet,” Nick teased, pulling her upright.
Shane felt the warm waves of raw desire wash over her as he held her close against his body. He was still wearing the costume she had first met him in, enhancing the picture of an irresistible rogue.
“Not by choice,” she murmured. She had meant the words to be a flippant retort, but instead they gave testimony to the ambivalent feelings that were beginning to pull at her.
Nick merely smiled, as if sensing what she was struggling to hide. “Old John throw you out?” he asked, nodding toward the director’s trailer.
Why was he still holding her? And why couldn’t she think clearly? Right now she was more conscious of the imprint of each one of his fingers upon her body than she was of anything else.
“Actually, no,” she said between dry lips. “He did spare me a few words. Thinks rather highly of you. Are you going to hold onto me all day?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he said, and grinned. He purposely slid his hands in a languid motion down to her waist, brushing briefly against her hips before he freed her.
The man could retire from acting and become rich just teaching his technique with women, she thought, trying hard to recover.
“C’mon, I’ll buy you lunch,” he offered.
“Last of the big-time spenders,” she bantered back, knowing that no one paid for meals on the set during location shooting.
Nick laughed and put his arm about her shoulders as they walked to the makeshift commissary.
The next day was practically the same. Shane came on the set and observed the hectic pace of the everyday work done to create a film. She interviewed several people. The crew became used to having her prowl about, asking all sorts of questions. It occurred to her that she was asking more questions than were necessary for her article. It was slowly beginning to dawn on her that she was trying to learn everything there was to know about Nick’s life. Then too, she found herself angling to be with him as much as possible. But his time was heavily taxed, divided as it was, between takes, rehearsals, and conferences. When he did have a spare moment, Nick usually spent it on the set rather than in his trailer, making himself visible and mingling with the crew. Shane began to see why everyone practically doted on him. He sounded too good to be true, and despite her best efforts, she realized she was falling in love with him.
And then, on Wednesday, a very strange thing happened. After lunch, Nick disappeared. She had seen him rehearsing a scene just before noon. Several people had demanded his attention when the scene ended, so Shane had gone to get a light lunch. When she returned with her tray, hoping to eat with Nick, he was nowhere in sight. She didn’t think much of it until she actually went to look for him an hour later. Questioning several people who might have seen him brought her nothing but casual shrugs. No one questioned his absence:
But Shane did.
“Where did you go yesterday?” Shane asked, cornering Nick in his trailer the next morning. The makeup man was putting the finishing strokes on Nick’s face, highlighting his best features. Shane sat back, leaning against a table as she watched. She saw Nick looking at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to keep his head immobile until the makeup man was through.
“I had some business to take care of,” he told her vaguely.
“Oh?” Her interest was piqued by his evasive tone. “And that was?” she prodded.
“A secret,” he answered in a firm tone of voice.
The makeup man chose that moment to flip off the protective cloth from Nick’s neck and make his retreat. Shane was left in the suddenly silent room chewing on her pencil and eyeing Nick curiously. Up to now, he had been forthright, open. Was this “secret” the angle she was searching for? Or was Nick just being playful? Somehow, judging from his expression, she didn’t think he was teasing her. He had been involved in something yesterday that he didn’t want to talk about. Shane was going to find out what.
“How’s the article going?” Nick asked, swinging his chair around to look at her.
“So far, if they were giving out Superman awards, you’d be the top contender,” she told him glibly.
“You don’t sound very happy about that,” he observed, coming up next to her.
“Cataloging a person’s virtues makes for very dull reading,” she said honestly, trying not to pay attention to the fact that his body was almost touching hers.
“Am I dull?” __
No, he certainly wasn’t that, she thought. Dull was the last word she would have used to describe him. Maybe if she tried to capture his sensuality on paper, that would be enough. Maybe—
Her thoughts went no further as they gave way to a font of churning emotions. Nick’s fingers were slowly weaving their way about her waist, tilting her body toward his as he lowered his head.
“I’ll mess your makeup,” she protested. The absurdity of her comment hit her, and she began to giggle.
“First time I ever had a woman laugh in my face,” Nick said, releasing her. Someone else, Shane guessed, would have been offended. But Nick merely looked amused, as if he were thoroughly enjoying everything about her.
“First time I ever had to worry about a man’s makeup,” she rejoined.
“Oh?” he asked, hugging her to him. The affectionate movement surprised her. There was a definite warmth to it that went beyond that of a man merely intent on seduction. “And how many men have there been?”
She looked up into his face, drinking in every wonderful feature. “Far fewer men than there have been women for you,” she countered.
“Then you must be very lonely,” he said. There was just a touch of seriousness to his voice.
Shane laughed. “Now, that you can’t expect me to believe.” She cocked her head. “You had a zillion women throwing themselves at you at that party we went to. And that was just one night.”
“That is exactly the problem,” he told her. “They want to be with me for who I am supposed to be—a glamorous movie star, someone who can further their career. They don’t want to be with me because they like me.” He looked into her eyes. “Do you see the difference?” He made it sound important that she did.
As she studied him, she saw a well of loneliness within his eyes. This was something she had not even considered before. Could it be that even though Nick possessed a life-style people fantasized about, in reality he was lonely? As lonely, perhaps, as she in her fast-paced, career-oriented world? She felt an intense tenderness toward him as she touched his face, her cool fingers sliding slowly over his cheek.
“Yes,” she said softly, “I do see the difference. And I can’t understand why any woman in her right mind would think of using you to further her career when she’s with you.”
Nick kissed her fingertips as they passed by his lips. Good Lord, how she could love this man!
Just then, a sharp knock on the door broke the mood within the trailer. “Mr. Bowman wants you on the set, Mr. Rutledge,” came the polite call.
“I could start being temperamental,” Nick suggested, whispering the words into her ear as he lightly licked the lobe.
Shane shivered, but tried to keep her tone light. “What, and ruin a wonderful legend?” she scoffed. “Go out, your public awaits.”
“My public,” he said, kissing his fingertips and pressing them to her lips, “gets in the way on occasion.”
With that, he left. Shane’s heart pounded in her ears.
Chapter Six
“Camping?” Shane cried in disbelief. The Saturday sun was just struggling to illuminate her hotel room as she stood, staring at Nic
k, wondering if she was hearing him correctly. “Why in heaven’s name would you want to go camping?”
“Because I like it,” he said.
He certainly looked the part of an outdoorsman, she thought. He had woken her up—again. Nick was wearing faded jeans. A blue-and-gray, half-opened plaid shirt peeked out from a denim jacket.
“Camping?” she repeated incredulously. “As in dirt and bugs and lumpy rocks?”
“Camping, as in the stars winking brilliantly over you and the earth pillowing your head,” he amended. There was an amused twinkle in his eyes that Shane barely caught as she sighed, pulling the sash tighter on her robe. Stoically she made her way toward her closet and began shoving the hangers apart, searching for the appropriate clothes.
“They should have sent you someone from National Geographic,” she muttered audibly, fishing out a peach blouse and a pair of jeans she had meant to wear only while she was working in the hotel room.
Nick sat on the corner of her rumpled bed, watching her. “We’re not going to the heart of darkest Africa,” he said. “Just to Rocky Mountain National Park.”
“Do they have bears in this park?” she asked, refusing to take another step toward the bathroom. The clothes dangled from her fingers as she thought in horror of the prospect of running into wild animals.
“Probably,” he replied nonchalantly. Then added, “You’d better get a move on. The pilot’s waiting for us.”
“Pilot? What are we going to do, parachute in?” Her eyes were wide with horror.
He came up to her then, putting his arms about her waist. “No.” He laughed. “Not this time.”
“Don’t tell me, you sky dive.”
“I used to. The studio doesn’t approve of that while I’m filming.” The clothes she held between them were getting squashed, and a warm, hazy feeling was spreading through her veins as he pulled her even closer.
“Thank God for the studio,” she said, genuinely relieved. “Why would you want to take such risks?” Jumping out of planes was an activity reserved for soldiers and crazy people, as far as she was concerned.
“To experience life to its fullest,” he said simply.
“That’s a good way to experience death to its fullest too,” she retorted, keenly aware of his face being so close to her own. She fought the urge to stand up on her tiptoes and kiss him.
He laughed again. It was a delicious laugh, which almost curled her toes in their fluffy pink slippers. “Where’s your spirit of adventure?” he asked.
“I use mine up traveling on the subway every day. I see all the wild life there that I want to, thank you.” For a moment, there was silence as Nick’s laughter melted away and they stared at each other. He was going to kiss her, her senses telegraphed the message urgently. And as much as she wanted him to, she made a motion to separate them. She couldn’t afford to get herself any more emotionally entangled than she was. An affair would be easy, but she felt that this was more than just infatuation. All she could foresee were problems and heartaches, loving a man like this.
“Um, the pilot,” she reminded him. “He’s waiting anxiously, remember?”
“So am I,” she heard Nick murmur as she went off to the bathroom to change.
Scottie drove them to a small airstrip, where an Apache four-seater airplane stood waiting. Shane cast an apprehensive glance at the plane. She had never been up in anything but large commercial aircraft. She licked her lips nervously. “Don’t these things crash a lot?”
“No. Once is about enough.” He was obviously struggling to wipe the smile from his lips.
“Very funny,” Shane muttered, wrestling with the backpack that Nick had provided for her. The bulky object with sleeping bag attached seemed at war with her shoulder bag. She looked up to see both Nick and the pilot watching her. “I’m not good at juggling things,” she snapped, hating to be caught at a disadvantage.
“Oh, I’d say you were pretty good at it,” Nick told her, lifting her load and slinging it over his left shoulder. In his right hand, he held onto his own backpack, managing both easily.
Shane looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out just what he meant by his comment and deciding that it was best to leave the topic alone. She resolutely followed him to the plane, glancing wistfully at the Mercedes that was pulling away.
Nick caught her look. “C’mon,” he urged, nudging her along with his elbow. “It’ll be fun.”
Shane had her doubts about that.
Shane had never been to a national park. The closest she had ever come was to look down at patches of green as she flew over them, going from one destination to another. Grudgingly, she had to admit that the sight of nature close up was rather breathtaking. Warm autumn colors of gold, orange, and brown greeted her as Nick helped her out of the small plane.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Nick asked, as if reading her mind.
She nodded. The next thing she knew, he was placing the pack on her back, and she had all she could do to keep her balance. The beauty of nature was quickly forgotten.
“Thanks, Jake,” Nick said to the pilot, who was already climbing back into his plane. “We’ll go it alone from here.”
“We will, huh?” Shane muttered, glancing at their surroundings. The area seemed lonely and desolate. She felt uneasiness take hold of her.
Nick turned back and caught her expression as the airplane taxied away. “I thought reporters were supposed to be fearless.” He winked at her.
“We are, we are,” she affirmed. “We just prefer being somewhere where we have nothing to fear.”
“Not to worry. I’m here to protect you.” He took her hand as if to guarantee the promise.
“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” she asked dryly. Then she sighed, resigned to her fate. “Okay, Daniel Boone, where to now?”
“Down this trail here,” Nick said, pointing in a direction where Shane saw no trail at all. “I know a good stream where we can set up camp and catch some fish for dinner.”
“Terrific,” Shane muttered.
“Spoken like a true trooper.” Nick grinned. “Let’s go,” he urged, and with that, began leading the way.
The pack was beginning to weigh a ton already as the straps dug into her suede jacket. She wondered if the jacket would ever be the same again. She wondered if she would ever be the same again after this weekend. The fact that Nick knew where he was going astounded her. She knew that there were people who could lead you out of the heart of darkest Africa and what have you, but to her that was unreal. She had trouble going from one place to another unless the streets were clearly marked or she had a map that detailed every step of the way. Here every tree looked like every other. She knew that the sun supposedly rose in the east and set in the west, but now all it was doing was filtering through tall branches of trees, and as far as she was concerned, that didn’t help one bit, other than give a charming appeal to the area.
Shane watched both sides of the wooded area apprehensively, waiting for wildlife to spring out at her. Why couldn’t Nick be the type who liked to lounge in front of a fireplace with a martini in his hand the way all Hollywood types were supposed to? she wondered, staring at his back as she tried to march behind him. No, then he wouldn’t be so special, she realized . . . and she wouldn’t be experiencing all these dangerous feelings that she was trying desperately to keep under control.
A loud rustling noise overhead made Shane jerk her eyes toward its source, sucking in her breath. But it was only a large, brilliant blue bird flapping its wings against the dying leaves of a maple tree. A number of leaves fell down around her, and as Shane pulled her head away, she missed her footing and slid down the incline right into Nick, knocking him down. Within a moment, they were a tangle of arms, legs, and backpacks. Shane heard something go “crack” and stared down in horror at her legs.
They were both broken, she just knew it.
“You’re not supposed to slide down the hill,” Nick told her, getting up first
and taking her hand. She made no move to accept it. “What’s the matter?”
“My legs,” she said, still staring down. “I think I broke them.”
Concerned, Nick bent down, gingerly touching
first one and then the other. “Does this hurt?” he asked, his fingers gently exploring both regions.
“No,” she said, her lips thinning. It didn’t hurt. What she was feeling was the warm, stirring response of desire awakened at his touch. She watched as his fingers came closer to her groin area. “Maybe they’re not broken,” she said hurriedly, putting her hand on his shoulder and trying to stand up. “But I did hear a cracking noise,” she told him.
“A dried branch you stepped on?” he asked, arching a brow.
She was about to agree with his explanation when she hoisted her purse and heard an unfamiliar clanking noise. Closer inspection of the contents told her that her recorder was no longer a whole, but a mass of parts.
“It’s broken,” she lamented. Shane looked accusingly at the large rock beneath her purse.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” Nick promised.
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” she asked, closing the flap on her bag in utter annoyance.
“Enjoy yourself,” he suggested, beginning to walk again.
Shane took a step to follow, then winced. A groan escaped her lips.
“Now what?” Nick asked, turning around again.
“I think it’s my ankle,” she answered. Tiny pinpricks of pain radiated from her right ankle. “I think I twisted it.”
“Small wonder,” Nick said, forcing her to sit down on the rock that had murdered her recorder. He proceeded to pull off her intricately hand-tooled boot. “These aren’t sensible camping boots,” he informed her.
“I wasn’t planning on camping, sensibly or otherwise, when I bought them,” she retorted. She watched as he carefully rotated her ankle. It was painful, but not unbearable. “Now what? Do you shoot me?”
He laughed. “Looks fine to me,” he said, replacing her boot. For a moment he stroked her leg, then rose suddenly. “It all looks fine to me,” he said, his eyes meeting hers significantly.
