Change the subject. Quickly. “Besides, won’t your girlfriend be upset that you are being so . . . attentive to me?”
“Hell, I don’t have a girlfriend. They are far too much trouble.” He gave me a quick smile, his lips twisting upward, eyes dancing with mischief.
“The blonde woman looking for you on your set sure seemed eager to find you. I thought that . . . .”
Jet was already shaking his hands in front of him, back and forth like he could erase my words. “That is not my girlfriend. That was a one night mistake I’m still paying for.”
Ouch. So much for changing the subject to something easier. Did he have a lot of one night stands? Not that it mattered to me. Not one bit.
I lowered my camera, pretended to check the shots, and started to walk, glancing over my shoulder at him. “So, tomorrow then. Good night.”
Jet jogged a few feet to catch up to me, and then slung an arm across my shoulders. I stiffened, and he whispered in my ear. “This is just for show. So the muggers don’t get you.”
“Right.” The warmth from his arms was trickling down through my body in a not unpleasant way. Just a week, this was just for a week. Who the hell was I kidding? How was I going to survive a week with this man? I thought about my job, about my barely-there bank account, thought about the house and the foreclosure, about having to sell Ryan’s car if I didn’t make the bill payments. Thought about Ryan and all the things he’d wanted and hadn’t been able to do, and here I was laughing and flirting with a man who should be the last one on my list to be in my life. He was an adrenaline junky and would probably be killed before he made it to thirty-five. My heart clenched at the thought. No, I wouldn’t do that to myself, wouldn’t willingly get tangled up with a man like this.
Couldn’t.
I pushed Jet’s arm off me, not unkindly, then turned to face him. My mom had always said honesty was the best policy. No better time than the present to test the theory.
“I think we need to lay out some ground rules. This is a game to you; I get it. But it’s my job, a job I will lose if there is even a hint of something between us.” I pleaded with him with my eyes and words. “Please. I need you to behave. I will take pictures, ask you a few questions, and then I’ll be gone and you can get back to your life.”
He sucked on the chipped tooth, and then slowly nodded. “I don’t like it. But if your job is at stake then I will be good.” He threw his hands into the air, and then spun to look at me, one eyebrow raised. “Are you sure?”
I wanted to laugh at him, he was over the top with his mannerisms and behavior, but that was a part of his charm. Damn, this was going to be a long week.
“Yes, I’m sure. And thank you.”
“I still have to walk you back to your hotel,” he said, holding his hand out as if to take mine. I laughed at him and shook my head. He forcibly laced his fingers with mine, the rough calluses on his hands bumping along my skin. “I can’t just let you go on your own. I can’t. Sorry. I’m sure somewhere in my contract there is something about being chivalrous to maidens. Besides, my mother taught me better than to let beautiful green-eyed girls wander about Mexico at night on their own.”
My hand was completely engulfed in his and I stared down at it, stuffing the feelings he so easily pulled up through my body, away. What was it about him that was affecting me so? Was it because he was so obviously wrong for me? No, that couldn’t be it; Hugh had flirted with me too and I hadn’t had this reaction.
Enough, I wasn’t going to analyze it anymore. I was just going to ignore this thing between us.
“Fine.” I said, one hand on my camera to still it from swinging. “But you don’t have to hold my hand. I’m not a child.”
A flash of something akin to fear flickered across his face, darted through his eyes. “I know that. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” His voice was sincere, his eyes soft with a tenderness that made the gold flecks deepen in color, even in this shadowed light. He ran his thumb over my hand, his eyes finding mine, the intensity in them making me catch my breath. “Let me make sure you’re safe.”
My heart clenched and my throat tightened, feeling the undercurrent of emotions rolling between us. I couldn’t identify them, didn’t know what was going on, but trusted, strangely, that he was telling me the truth. Trusting Jet was a bad idea, my brain seemed certain of it. He would hurt me; he would get hurt himself. Something bad would happen.
Jet gave my hand a squeeze and the moment passed, his eyes once more full of devilry. “I might even have to carry you at some point. Say, if you get weak in the knees, which is all too possible with you being this close to me. You wouldn’t be the first girl—”
“It would surprise me if I was,” I quipped, slipping my hand from his. Bringing the camera up again, I snapped a few more shots of him while he gaped at me.
“You are trouble, Jasmin Vargas,” he said, pointing a finger at me.
“And you aren’t used to women turning you down. Or making you behave,” I said, my finger clicking the camera off once more, holding the button just so in order to make it behave. If I didn’t, the thing would be sure to act up. That was just one more worry to add to my list—old camera breakdowns.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he laughed, bumping his shoulder into mine, putting me off balance.
He grabbed my arms, his hands massaging them lightly. “Easy there, you sure you didn’t have anything to drink?”
Laughing, I pushed his hands off me. “Enough. You said you’d behave!”
Still smiling to myself, I picked up my pace and headed toward my hotel. Jet moved to my side, though he didn’t try to take my hand again, nor did he try anything else. I was both happy and disappointed. Which was stupid. I know.
At the front stoop of my hotel, the awning sagging under the weight of years blocking the sun, I gave Jet a nod.
“Thanks for walking me home. I appreciate it.”
“I’ll be here in the morning, to escort you back to the set,” he smiled. “Just in case there are any early morning banditos around.”
I bit the inside of my lip. “Good night, Jethro. Again.”
He cringed, and that darkness that had flickered over his face earlier was back. “Please, don’t call me that.” His eyes sought mine, a haunting echo of pain in them. “Please.”
My breath caught at what I saw in those gold-flecked depths, at the hurt and the complete and total honesty. “Yeah, sure.”
He nodded, gave me a weak smile and turned away, calling lightly over his shoulder.
“Goodnight, Spitfire.”
4
Jet
I sat in my hotel room, on the edge of my bed, buck naked and still too hot to sleep. The breeze blew in through the sliding glass door that led out onto the questionably safe balcony, but the night air did nothing to cool my skin.
Blame it on the heat or blame it on the small room and heavy blankets.
It wasn’t the nightmare, the memories I relived in my sleep. No, that was not why sweat slid down my spine, trickled down my chest and off my arms. I stood up, walked to the open door and looked out. The gulf was visible and the breeze off the ocean was good, headed straight in my direction.
Wide awake now, I let out a slow breath, bowed my chin to my chest and rubbed the back of my neck. Scars and secrets; I couldn’t escape either one.
Think about something else. Anything else.
“Jasmin.” I whispered her name. The scent of her lingered with me, a mixture of floral and earthy scents that had buried themselves in my brain. I thought back to the feeling of her hand in mine. Her small fingers in mine, curling up around my own, skin so soft—how many girls had I touched in my lifetime? I'd done far more than just held their hands and felt . . . nothing. Yet a simple touch and I’d immediately wanted more. Placing one hand on the edge of the doorway, I continued to stare out at the ocean as I thought about Jasmin, wondered if she was asleep now, or maybe she was awake like I was. Better
yet, maybe she was thinking about me. I grinned, and then thought about that sweet Spitfire lying in bed, thinking about me, touching herself.
I let out a groan of torment as images assaulted me, like a movie I couldn’t, didn’t want to stop. Her hair would be spread out on a pillow, and she’d whisper my name as her fingers circled her moist wet center. Her other hand would find a nipple begging for attention, tugging on it lightly, she’d moan, her fingers speeding up as she stroked herself, faster, more frantic now. Her green eyes would dilate with lust, her body arching into her hand as the orgasm started to spin her out of control.
“Fuck,” I whispered, feeling out of control myself, my hand moving in a rhythm that wouldn’t take me long imagining her delicious tight—
The knock on the door snapped me out of my fantasy. “Who is it?” I barked, walking stiffly to the edge of the bed, scooping up my shorts and sliding them on though they were tented to the extreme.
“It’s Hugh.”
Grumbling, I stomped over to the door and snapped it open, glaring. “What now?”
Hugh smiled at me. “Got a girl in there to go with that raging hard on?”
I glared at him, frustration mounting. “No. Thanks for asking. What the hell do you want in the middle of the god damn night? Surely not a booty call?”
Hugh batted his eyes and softened his voice into a high-pitched lisping falsetto. “For you maybe . . . stud muffin.”
He snapped a fist out and punched my shoulder. “Duty calls. Rodney decided at the last minute to do your scene at night. Thinks it’ll look better with the explosion.”
I banged my head into the door frame. “Seriously?”
“Hey, it’s not like you’re leaving an unlucky lady behind.”
I took a swing at him that he dodged easily, again laughing at me. “Come on, man. Get your clothes on and cover your raging dick. Nobody wants to see that. Well, maybe Elise does.”
With a flick of my wrist, I slammed the door in his face, smothering his continued laughter.
“Stupid Rodney Asher and his stupid ideas.” I turned on the overhead light and yanked on my clothes one piece at a time, every brush against my erection bringing it hard and ready with the merest hint of attention. Yeah, this was going to go just fucking dandy.
Grumbling all the way to the movie set, I thought about Jasmin as I walked. I’d promised her I wouldn’t seduce her, and if her job was on the line then it was a valid point. But how the hell was I going to be around her when the mere thought of her made me literally want to take matters into my own hands?
And while I thought I’d seen desire in her eyes, she’d made it clear she didn’t want me. Who could blame her really? A smart girl like that, what the hell would she want with a stuntman? What did I have to offer a girl like her anyway? If she wasn’t trying to make it on the big screen, there was nothing I could give. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I could protect her—after all, I hadn’t even been able to protect myself and Jasper. And I couldn’t even offer her the things a girl like her deserved; my time was barely my own the way I flew from set to set. What kind of life was that?
Nothing. Which was better anyway.
Right.
With my mood souring, my libido disappeared. Jasmin didn’t want me no matter how badly I wanted to see and feel her sweat soaked skin beneath me.
This was going to be a bitching tough week.
* * * * *
Rodney kept us shooting until well past sun up, no matter that we’d pointed out it was no longer dark, hence the excuse that he wanted the explosion more visible against the night sky was a moot point. He waved us off.
I leaned back in the folding chair I’d plunked myself into, sunglasses on, ball cap twisted backwards as I tried to snag a few zzz’s.
A kid approached me, pimple-faced and wearing big thick horn-rimmed glasses. He held a camera up. “Mind if I take a few shots? It’s for my school newspaper.”
“Knock yourself out,” I said. The whir and click of the camera brought me upright, reminding me of a promise I’d made. I scrambled for my cell phone. 9:55.
“Shit.” I stood and waved at Hugh. “Be right back!”
Sprinting off the set and down the street, I dodged people and cars alike. I said I’d be there to escort her at ten, damn it. Breathing hard, I pushed myself faster, no longer tired from the long night of shooting. Across the street from Jasmin’s hotel I paused to catch my breath, hands on my knees. She was standing out front . . . waiting for me?
A smile crept over my lips as the wind caught the edge of her pale yellow sundress, swirling it around her lean thighs. She was wearing shades, flip flops, but no hat, and her camera was clutched in her hand, the strap wrapped around her wrist.
I drank her in, the sight of her giving me a not unpleasant shiver that ran the length of my body.
Checking the street, I crossed, catching her attention about halfway to her. She saw me and her face lit up, like . . . I meant something to her. My feet stopped where they were and I bathed in her smile, feeling it curve around me, warmer than the sun on my skin. God, how long had it been since a woman actually cared about me, didn’t want to use me for their own ends?
Fuck, what the hell was wrong with me? She was a photographer; she needed me to get her job done. This was a bad idea.
The blare of a truck’s horn snapped me out of my whatever-the-hell-I was-feeling and I dodged the pissed off driver with about half an inch to spare. I jogged the rest of the way across. Jasmin was pale when I reached her, almost green there was so little color in her face.
“Hey, you okay?”
“He almost hit you.” She clutched her camera, knuckles white.
“Yeah, but almost doesn’t count,” I answered, offering her my hand. She shook her head.
I fought the disappointment that coursed through me. You knew this going in today. She’s not for you. Not this girl. Get the fuck over it.
Jasmin walked beside me. “Are you feeling alright?”
I blinked, brought out of my thoughts. “Yeah, why?”
“You’re all sweaty. Like you’ve been running,” she said, arching an eyebrow at me. “Did you forget about me and have to run all the way?”
I splayed a hand against my chest and opened my eyes, wide and innocent like. “Me? Jet Sterling forget something as important as you? Never. I was . . . .” Crap, what was I doing then?
Her eyebrows seemed to arch even higher. “You were . . . .”
Think fast man. “A bee.”
“A bee?”
“Yes, there was this bee, actually, a whole hive of them. You know, the killer bees? Well, I stumbled across a nest—”
“Here? At your movie set?” Her lips seemed to be quivering, and suddenly I felt the absolute need to make her smile. To hear her laugh again. Even at the expense of my own pride and ego.
“Well, no, not at the movie set. On the way to get you, this huge hive of bees attacked an old Mexican woman. She looked like a ninja swatting at them left,” I jabbed with my left, “right,” I crouched and threw an uppercut into the air.
Laughter spilled out of her. “And you had to help her?”
“Carried her on my back, all the way to her home, with the bees chasing us, of course. She gave me a tortilla in thanks.” I smiled, pleased with myself.
Jasmin chuckled. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
“Actually, you’re the first person who’s ever said that. Ever.” God, how I wanted to grab her, pull her into my arms and kiss her until . . . until what? What was this damn fascination I had with the green-eyed beauty? There were more women out there than I could count, and any one of them would be happy to spend a night or two in my bed. But this one, I wanted her and she didn’t want me. Was that the draw? Had it been so long since I’d actually been denied that it was turning me on?
“I was thinking, if you don’t mind, we could do some pictures down at the beach,” she said, pointing to the path that would take us to the
closest public beach. “If you’re okay with stripping down to your swim trunks, and maybe getting your jeans wet.”
“I’ll strip down to less than that for you,” I said, enjoying the blush that spread across her cheeks. Stilling the urge to trace the blush with my fingers, I gave her a wide grin. “But only if you want.”
She held up her hands. “I think we can pass on the full striptease. Save it for someone else, someone who wants it.”
Ouch. I must have made a face because she touched me on the arm, her eyes crinkling up with concern. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, there have got to be lots of girls that would want you to strip for them.” Her eyes widened, the color increasing in her cheeks “I mean . . . .”
Oh God, I was enjoying this. I just stared at her, let her dig the hole deeper. “You probably look great no matter what . . . .” She finally gave up, and just when it was about to get interesting. Damn.
She cleared her throat, then pointed at the set as we passed by. “Do you need to get your swim trunks, or let them know that you’re going to be a while?” Her words were rushed, as if that would hide her previous stuttering mess. Which I found charming. Charming?
“Jazzy, you know you are incredibly cute when you’re flustered,” I said, regretting the words even as I said them. How many times was I going to have to remind myself that she wasn’t for me? Damn it.
But she smiled, and then tears came to her eyes, confusing the hell out of me.
“Thanks.” Her pace picked up and I was left standing there, staring at the swaying back end of her again. I was more confused than ever. She called over her shoulder. “I’ll be setting up on the beach, you come when you’re ready.”
What had happened there? Why had she looked ready to cry? Crap, I did not need another emotionally unstable woman chasing me around. No more playing. Jasmin was off limits.
High Risk Love Page 5
