Local Hero

by Nora Roberts

  “It’s crossed my mind, and I could get back and figure out what he’s got up his invisible sleeve if you’d tell me why you dragged me in here.”

  “You work here,” Skinner pointed out.

  “That’s no excuse.”

  Skinner puffed out his cheeks and let the subject drop. “You know Two Moon Pictures has been negotiating with Universal for the rights to produce Zark as a full-length film?”

  “Sure. That’s been going on a year, a year and a half now.” Since the wheeling and dealing didn’t interest him, Mitch stretched out a leg and began to massage Taz’s flank with his foot. “The last thing you told me was that the alfalfa sprouts from L.A. couldn’t get out of their hot tubs long enough to close the deal.” Mitch grinned. “You’ve got a real way with words, Rich.”

  “The deal closed yesterday,” Rich said flatly. “Two Moon wants to go with Zark.”

  Mitch’s grin faded. “You’re serious?”

  “I’m always serious,” Rich said, studying Mitch’s reaction. “I thought you’d be a little more enthusiastic. Your baby’s going to be a movie star.”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I feel.” Pushing himself out of the chair, Mitch began to pace Rich’s cramped office. As he passed the window, he pulled open the blinds to let in slants of hard winter light. “Zark’s always been personal. I don’t know how I feel about him going Hollywood.”

  “You got a kick out of when B. C. Toys made the dolls.”

  “Action figures,” Mitch corrected automatically. “I guess that’s because they stayed pretty true to the theme.” It was silly, he knew. Zark didn’t belong to him. He’d created him, true, but Zark belonged to Universal, just like all the other heroes and villains of the staff’s fertile imaginations. If, like Maloney, Mitch decided to move on, Zark would stay behind, the responsibility of someone else’s imagination. “Did we retain any creative leeway?”

  “Afraid they’re going to exploit your firstborn?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Listen, Two Moon bought the rights to Zark because he has potential at the box office—the way he is. It wouldn’t be smart businesswise to change him. Let’s look at the bottom line—comics are big business. A hundred and thirty million a year isn’t something to shrug off. The business is thriving now the way it hasn’t since the forties, and even though it’s bound to level off, it’s going to stay hot. Those jokers on the coast might dress funny, but they know a winner when they see one. Still, if you’re worried, you could take their offer.”

  “What offer?”

  “They want you to write the screenplay.”

  Mitch stopped where he was. “Me? I don’t write movies.”

  “You write Zark—apparently that’s enough for the producers. Our publishers aren’t stupid, either. Stingy,” he added with a glance at his worn linoleum, “but not stupid. They wanted the script to come from in-house, and there’s a clause in the contract that says we have a shot. Two Moon agreed to accept a treatment from you first. If it doesn’t pan out, they still want you on the project as a creative consultant.”

  “Creative consultant.” Mitch rolled the title around on his tongue.

  “If I were you, Dempsey, I’d get myself a two-legged agent.”

  “I just might. Look, I’m going to have to think about it. How long are they giving me?”

  “Nobody mentioned a time frame. I don’t think the possibility of your saying no occurred to them. But then, they don’t know you like I do.”

  “I need a couple of days. There’s someone I have to talk to.”

  Skinner waited until he’d started out. “Mitch, opportunity doesn’t often kick down your door this way.”

  “Just let me make sure I’m at home first. I’ll be in touch.”

  When it rains it pours, Mitch thought as he and Taz walked. It had started off as a fairly normal, even ordinary new year. He’d planned to dig his heels in a bit and get ahead of schedule so that he could take three or four weeks off to ski, drink brandy and kick up some snow on his uncle’s farm. He’d figured on meeting one or two attractive women on the slopes to make the evenings interesting. He’d thought to sketch a little, sleep a lot and cruise the lodges. Very simple.

  Then, within weeks, everything had changed. In Hester he’d found everything he’d ever wanted in his personal life, but he’d only begun to convince her that he was everything she’d ever wanted in hers. Now he was being offered one of the biggest opportunities of his professional life, but he couldn’t think of one without considering the other.

  In truth, he’d never been able to draw a hard line of demarcation between his professional and personal lives. He was the same man whether he was having a couple of drinks with friends or burning the midnight oil with Zark. If he’d changed at all, it had been Hester and Radley who had caused it. Since he’d fallen for them, he wanted the strings he’d always avoided, the responsibilities he’d always blithely shrugged off.

  So he went to her first.

  Mitch strolled into the bank with his ears tingling from the cold. The long walk had given him time to think through everything Skinner had told him, and to feel the first twinges of excitement. Zark, in Technicolor, in stereophonic sound, in Panavision.

  Mitch stopped at Kay’s desk. “She had lunch yet?”

  Kay rolled back from her terminal. “Nope.”

  “Anybody with her now?”

  “Not a soul.”

  “Good. When’s her next appointment?”

  Kay ran her finger down the appointment book. “Two fifteen.”

  “She’ll be back. If Rosen stops by, tell him I took Mrs. Wallace to lunch to discuss some refinancing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She was working on a long column of figures when Mitch opened the door. She moved her fingers quickly over the adding machine, which clicked as it spewed out a stream of tape. “Kay, I’m going to need Lorimar’s construction estimate. And would you mind ordering me a sandwich? Anything as long as it’s quick. I’d like to have these figures upstairs by the end of the day. Oh, and I’ll need the barter exchange transactions on the Duberry account. Look up the 1099.”

  Mitch shut the door at his back. “God, all this bank talk excites me.”

  “Mitch.” Hester glanced up with the last of the figures still rolling through her head. “What are you doing here?”

  “Breaking you out, and we have to move fast. Taz’ll distract the guards.” He was already taking her coat from the rack behind the door. “Let’s go. Just keep your head down and look natural.”

  “Mitch, I’ve got—”

  “To eat Chinese takeout and make love with me. In whatever order you like. Here, button up.”

  “I’ve only half finished with these figures.”

  “They won’t run away.” He buttoned her coat, then closed his hands over her collar. “Hester, do you know how long it’s been since we had an hour alone? Four days.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, things have been busy.”

  “Busy.” He nodded toward her desk. “No one’s going to argue with you there, but you’ve also been holding me off.”

  “No, I haven’t.” The truth was she’d been holding herself off, trying to prove to herself that she didn’t need him as badly as it seemed. It hadn’t been working as well as she’d hoped. There was tangible proof of that now as she stood facing him with her heart beating fast. “Mitch, I explained how I felt about . . . being with you with Radley in the apartment.”

  “And I’m not arguing that point, either.” Though he would have liked to. “But Rad’s in school and you have a constitutional right to a lunch hour. Come with me, Hester.” He let his brow rest on hers. “I need you.”

  She couldn’t resist or refuse or pretend she didn’t want to be with him. Knowing she might regret it later, she turned her back on her work. “I’d settle for a peanut butter and jelly. I’m not very hungry.”

  “You got it.”

  Fifteen minutes later,
they were walking into Mitch’s apartment. As usual, his curtains were open wide so that the sun poured through. It was warm, Hester thought as she slipped out of her coat. She imagined he kept the thermostat up so that he could be comfortable in his bare feet and short-sleeved sweatshirts. Hester stood with her coat in her hands and wondered what to do next.

  “Here, let me take that.” Mitch tossed her coat carelessly over a chair. “Nice suit, Mrs. Wallace,” he murmured, fingering the lapel of the dark blue pinstripe.

  She put a hand over his, once again afraid that things were moving too fast. “I feel . . .”

  “Decadent?”

  Once again, it was the humor in his eyes that relaxed her. “More like I’ve just climbed out my bedroom window at midnight.”

  “Did you ever?”

  “No. I thought about it a lot, but I could never figure out what I was supposed to do once I climbed down.”

  “That’s why I’m nuts about you.” He kissed her cautious smile and felt her lips soften and give under his. “Climb out the bedroom window to me, Hester. I’ll show you what to do.” Then his hands were in her hair, and her control scattered as quickly as the pins.

  She wanted him. Perhaps it had a great deal to do with madness, but oh, how she wanted him. In the long nights since they’d been together like this, she’d thought of him, of how he touched her, where he touched her, and now his hands were there, just as she remembered. This time she moved faster than he, pulling his sweater up over his head to feast on the warm, taut flesh beneath. Her teeth nipped into his lip, insisting, inciting, until he was dragging the jacket from her and fumbling with the buttons that ranged down the back of her blouse.

  His touch wasn’t as gentle when he found her, nor was he as patient. But she had long since thrown caution aside. Now, pressed hard against him, she gripped passion with both hands. Whether it was day or night no longer mattered. She was where she wanted to be, where, no matter how she struggled to pretend otherwise, she needed to be.

  Madness, yes, it was madness. She wondered how she’d lived so long without it.

  He unfastened her skirt so that it flowed over her hips and onto the floor. With a groan of satisfaction he pressed his mouth to her throat. Four days? Had it only been four days? It seemed like years since he had had her close and alone. She was as hot and as desperate against him as he’d dreamed she would be. He could savor the feel of her even as desire clamped inside his gut and swam in his head. He wanted to spend hours touching, being touched, but the intensity of the moment, the lack of time and her urgent murmurs made it impossible.

  “The bedroom,” she managed as he pulled the thin straps of her lingerie over her shoulders.

  “No, here. Right here.” He fastened his mouth on hers and pulled her to the floor.

  He would have given her more. Even though his own system was straining toward the breaking point, he would have given her more, but she was wrapped around him. Before he could catch his breath, her hands were on his hips, guiding him to her. She dug her fingers into his flesh as she murmured his name, and whole galaxies seemed to explode inside his head.

  When she could think again, Hester stared at the dust motes that danced in a beam of sunlight. She was lying on a priceless Aubusson with Mitch’s head pillowed between her breasts. It was the middle of the day, she had a pile of paperwork on her desk, and she’d just spent the better part of her lunch making love on the floor. She couldn’t remember ever being more content.

  She hadn’t known life could be like this—an adventure, a carnival. For years she hadn’t believed there was room for the madness of love and lovemaking in a world that revolved around responsibilities. Now, just now, she was beginning to realize she could have both. For how long, she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps one day would be enough. She combed her fingers through his hair.

  “I’m glad you came to take me to lunch.”

  “If this is any indication, we’re going to have to make it a habit. Still want that sandwich?”

  “Uh-uh. I don’t need anything.” But you. Hester sighed, realizing she was going to have to accept that. “I’m going to have to get back.”

  “You don’t have an appointment until after two. I checked. Your barter exchange transactions can wait a few more minutes, can’t they?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Come on.” He was up and pulling her to her feet.

  “Where?”

  “We’ll have a quick shower, then I need to talk to you.”

  Hester accepted his offer of a robe and tried not to worry about what he had to say. She understood Mitch well enough to know he was full of surprises. The trouble was, she wasn’t certain she was ready for another. Shoulders tense, she sat beside him on the couch and waited.

  “You look like you’re waiting for the blindfold and your last cigarette.”

  Hester shook back her still damp hair and tried to smile. “No, it’s just that you sounded so serious.”

  “I’ve told you before, I have my serious moments.” He shoved magazines off the table with his foot. “I had some news today, and I haven’t decided how I feel about it. I wanted to see what you thought.”

  “Your family?” she began, instantly concerned.

  “No.” He took her hand. “I guess I’m making it sound like bad news, and it’s not. At least I don’t think it is. A production company in Hollywood just cut a deal with Universal to make a movie out of Zark.”

  Hester stared at him a moment, then blinked. “A movie. Well, that’s wonderful. Isn’t it? I mean, I know he’s very popular in comics, but a movie would be even bigger. You should be thrilled and very proud that your work can translate that way.”

  “I just don’t know if they can pull it off, if they can bring him to the screen with the right tone, the right emotion. Don’t look at me that way.”

  “Mitch, I know how you feel about Zark. At least I think I do. He’s your creation, and he’s important to you.”

  “He’s real to me,” Mitch corrected. “Up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “And, as corny as it might sound, in here.” He touched a hand to his heart. “He made a difference in my life, made a difference in how I looked at myself and my work. I don’t want to see them screw him up and make him into some cardboard hero or, worse, into something infallible and perfect.”

  Hester was silent a moment. She began to understand that giving birth to an idea might be as life-altering as giving birth to a child. “Let me ask you something: why did you create him?”

  “I wanted to make a hero—a very human one—with flaws and vulnerabilities, and I guess with high standards. Someone kids could relate to because he was just flesh and blood, but powerful enough inside to fight back. Kids don’t have a hell of a lot of choices, you know. I remember when I was young I wanted to be able to say, ‘No, I don’t want to. I don’t like that.’ When I read, I could see there were possibilities, ways out. That’s what I wanted Zark to be.”

  “Do you think you succeeded?”

  “Yeah. On a personal level, I succeeded when I came up with the first issue. Professionally, Zark has pushed Universal to the top. He translates into millions of dollars a year for the business.”

  “Do you resent that?”

  “No, why should I?”

  “Then you shouldn’t resent seeing him take the next step.”

  Mitch fell silent, thinking. He might have known Hester would see things more clearly and be able to cut through everything to the most practical level. Wasn’t that just one more reason he needed her?

  “They offered to let me do the screenplay.”

  “What?” She was sitting straight up now, eyes wide. “Oh, Mitch, that’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”

  He continued to play with her fingers. “I haven’t done it yet.”

  “Don’t you think you can?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She started to speak, then caught herself. After a moment, she spoke carefully. “Strange, if anyone ha
d asked, I would have said you were the most self-confident man I’d ever met. Added to that, I’d have said that you’d be much too selfish with Zark to let anyone else write him.”

  “There’s a difference between writing a story line for a comic series and writing a screenplay for a major motion picture.”

  “So?”

  He had to laugh. “Tossing my own words back at me, aren’t you?”

  “You can write, I’d be the first to say that you have a very fluid imagination, and you know your character better than anyone else. I don’t see the problem.”

  “Screwing up is the problem. Anyway, if I don’t do the script, they want me as creative consultant.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do, Mitch.”