"Hey, you," he said as she came up next to him.
"How's the famous artist?"
Even though he knew it wasn't smart, he couldn't resist leaning down for a kiss. He felt her flinch as the cameras flashed. "Trish, I'd like you to meet Megan Barnes and her husband, John Forrester."
"Pleased to meet you," Megan said warmly. "Sorry to have occupied Ty for so long."
"She had to haul out the baby pictures," John put in. "It's one of those mother's hormone things."
"Mother's hormones, hmmm?" Megan put her tongue in her cheek. "Did you pick up the framed version of the baby picture that you'd ordered for your office, by the way?"
John laughed and pulled his wife close. "All right, I'm outed. It's a parent thing."
The smile that bloomed over Trish's face made Ty lean over and kiss her again, cameras be damned. There was so much about her that he adored. She was worth his patience. He'd wait her out until she was ready to talk about her secrets. He'd wait her out until she was ready to trust.
* * *
Ty sat in the back seat of the limo, holding Trish against him, watching the streetlights strobe over their clasped hands.
"You were quite the success story tonight," she said.
He kissed the top of her head. "We'll see what the critics say. One thing you learn in this town is that what you hear in conversation means nothing. It's what they actually print that counts."
"The show sold out."
"That'll be good for Jocasta," he said carelessly. "It'll let her focus on some other artists. She's good at jumpstarting careers."
"Sounds like she's had some help at it." Trish picked restlessly at his fingers.
So that was why he'd seen the subtle tension in her shoulders when she was talking with Jocasta. "Early on, maybe. She had talent, I had money. Made sense that we combined the two." The tension was back, he realized, though Trish's face was calm. "Did she also tell you we had an affair?"
"She talked like someone who knew you well."
"Not nearly as well as she likes to think. We were involved years ago, before I was acting. We both knew it didn't work." He hesitated, wishing they were talking face to face. Instead, he could only see her expression in profile. "We quit before we tore each other apart. I didn't want to lose what worked with us in the first place, which was art. But there's nothing much outside of that."
"You don't need to explain it, Ty. It doesn't have anything to do with you and me," Trish said calmly.
"Is that a nice way of letting me off the hook?"
"No, it's a nice way of saying I understand we're not serious and I don't have a right to your life."
He shouldn't have been surprised that she would act as though it didn't matter. He didn't want to believe that was the truth. "You sound happy about that."
It stopped her for a moment. "I guess I'm just trying to say that I knew what I was getting into with this and that I don't expect anything out of it."
"Maybe you should." Ty's voice was quiet.
The limo stopped at a light.
"Look, we're having a nice time. Let's just take it for what it is."
"How can you be sure you know what it is?"
* * *
Because she knew what it couldn't be, Trish thought. "So, have you always pursued your art?" She knew he was looking at her, but she was unwilling to meet his eyes. Couldn't risk it.
Finally, he continued. "Clear through college, I did. Then acting took over. I didn't have the time and I didn't have the energy to do both."
"Understandable."
"Maybe, but unfortunate. You get too caught up in one thing, you get stale, at least I did. After a while, everything was about film and everything was a mess: work, relationships, everything." He paused. "I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until I took a step back and saw all the ways I'd been messing up."
She did turn to look at him then. "You're human. Everyone messes up, you know."
He moved his shoulders. "Yeah, but after a while when you watch yourself making the same mistakes, you start counting up the years and calling it a dead end." He took her hand. "I'm not going to say you're never going to meet ex-lovers of mine, but there's a reason why they're ex. I've put that part of my life behind me. I'm looking for life beyond the movies now." He stared into her eyes. "Do you understand?"
Fatally sincere, she reminded herself. He might think he was telling her the truth. He might actually believe it.
She couldn't afford to.
* * *
12
« ^ »
Trish sat on the couch, her stockinged feet in Ty's lap and her laptop open on her knees.
"There's got to be a better way to get into this scene than this," Ty said in disgust.
Trish gave him an amused look. "Do you realize you say that every single time we work on a scene?"
"At least I'm consistent."
"Well, I think we're back to the lure of the unknown with this one. I mean, basically, you've got a woman who's only ever indulged in white-bread sex getting talked into letting herself be tied up by someone she has good reason to think is a very dangerous man."
"He's taken her partway there already," Ty pointed out, rubbing her feet.
"And that's exactly what he would leverage," she said, trying to ignore the things his hands were doing to her nerve endings. "He'd go for the incremental strategy. That's what he's been pursuing all along. 'Come on. You've already tried it a bit and it turned you on, didn't it? Admit it. Nobody has to know but me.'"
"We want to avoid the 'you know you want it' thing, though," Ty argued. "That would just make him sound like a jerk."
"That's not what I'm talking about at all." Trish's words trailed off as he slid his fingertips up the inside of her calf.
"Keep going, please," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "It's what collaboration's all about. Communication."
Trish moistened her lips. "What we're going for is the whole temptation thing. 'It felt so good to you before, wait until you see how it feels when you really go outside the lines.' She's someone who believes in rules, so breaking them will be twice as much of a turn-on for her. She's getting off on it even though she knows she shouldn't."
Ty brushed his fingers up the inside of her thigh. "Would it be a turn-on for you?"
Her heart began to thud. "If I trusted the person enough. The idea of letting go, really letting go, is amazingly sexy, but also scary as hell."
"Why?" He stroked her skin.
Trish shivered. "Because you leave all of your protection behind. You stop thinking about how you look, how you sound, what the other person thinks."
"The other person thinks that seeing his lover completely lose control because of what she's feeling is an incredible turn-on," Ty told her. "I love touching you and feeling you respond. It's better than having you touch me, even, and that's saying a lot."
Trish caught her breath as she felt the twitch of his hardening cock against the sole of her foot. She remembered the feeling of making love when her hands were bound up in her shirt and lust spurted through her. Did she want to try it? Did she trust him enough?
The certainty was immediate and she set the laptop aside. "Would you want to—"
The buzzer at the front gate rang. They looked at each other. "Are you expecting anyone?" Trish asked.
"Not that I know of."
She rose to check the video monitor in the kitchen. Before she even drew near, she recognized the car and her heart sank. Amber, here to check up on her.
Or to check out Ty.
Trish walked out into the living room and cleared her throat. "Ty, it's my boss." The buzzer rang again, peremptorily.
Ty glanced up from making notes on his script. "You mean your sister?"
Trish bit her lip and nodded. "All right if I let her in?"
"Sure."
She pressed the buzzer for the gate and watched out the kitchen window as Amber drove her black Audi through the open gateway. There
was no point in walking straight out to meet her; Amber would need time to fluff her hair and check her lipstick before she'd open the door.
Trish stood on the porch watching Amber get out of her car. "Hello, Amber."
Amber adjusted the belted jacket she wore over a short red skirt that showed her legs to stunning effect. "Good afternoon. I just thought I'd stop in and see how things were going." As she neared Trish, she dropped her voice. "It's been nearly three weeks. You could at least have reported in by now."
"I sent you e-mail and left you voice mail. What more did you want?"
"For you to be dressed in a manner appropriate to representing Amber's Assistants, for one." Amber hissed. "I can't believe you still dress like you're in coll—"
Trish saw Amber's eyes move to look beyond her and she knew.
"God, he's beautiful," Amber breathed.
"You mean our client?"
"Of course our client. I wasn't satisfied with your e-mail. I wanted to see him personally and make sure everything was to his satisfaction. Like the attire of our employee, for example." She gave a pointed look at Trish's sweater and leggings then raised her voice. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ramsay. So nice to meet you in person."
Ty stepped out of the house and crossed the few steps necessary to shake Amber's hand. "It's Ty," he said smoothly. "And you're Trish's sister Amber, right?"
Perhaps if he hadn't been watching carefully, he might have missed her quick frown of irritation. "I'm the president of Amber's Assistants. We like to be sure our customers are satisfied, so I wanted to drop by and check in with you."
"Sure. Why don't you come on in?" He indicated the house, stepping back to allow Trish and Amber to go ahead of him. "Can I get you some coffee? There's some fresh-made."
"I'm sure Trish can get some for us while we talk," Amber said, her heels ringing on the marble tiles.
Ty ignored her. "Come on in the kitchen, we can talk while I get it. What do you take?"
"Cream and sugar, please."
He'd always liked the morning room with its walls of windows. The eucalyptus next to it provided a home for a pair of nesting doves who came back year after year. This late in the season, they were already gone. A pity, he thought, as it meant he had no distractions from Amber.
"Here we go," he said, pouring coffee into his Twentieth Century Fox mug; he figured she'd appreciate it. "Here's the sugar. I hope milk will do." He didn't add that he hoped the milk was also still good, given that he hadn't had a chance to sniff it.
"Trish, if you'd give us some privacy, I'm sure Ty will be more comfortable talking in private."
"I'm fine talking just like this," Ty said mildly. "There's nothing I have to say that Trish shouldn't hear. She's been doing a top-notch job."
"Really." Amber raised a dubious eyebrow.
"Shouldn't be all that surprising to you. You hired her, after all."
It seemed to stop her for a moment. "Yes, well, Trish is quite capable, as you say. We've already discussed her appearance and I can assure you that will be rectified."
"Not if I have anything to say about it."
"Excuse me?" Amber set her coffee mug down.
"Trish takes care of my communications, she's great on the phone, she gets my errands done. And as you can see, casual clothing is fine with me," he said with a tug at his own flannel shirt.
Amber looked as though she'd swallowed a bug. Interesting expression, he thought, noticing Trish was doing her best not to laugh. Eye contact was probably the wrong thing just then, he decided. "Trish has simplified my life, which is what I was looking for. I'm happy with the arrangement all the way around."
"I see."
"Well, I have to get back to work, but I sure appreciate you coming by." He rose, leaving her with little choice but to follow.
"Trish can walk me out, Ty, don't bother yourself."
Like hell was he going to leave her alone with Trish. "It's no bother." But it was the biggest relief he'd had in a while when the engine of the Audi roared to life and he watched her drive away.
"So that's your sister," he said as they walked back into the house.
"That's Amber."
"Is she like that a lot?" He knew it had gotten to Trish. It vibrated all over her.
"Amber's just Amber." She walked in the house ahead of him. "We've got better things to talk about."
Push or wait? For a moment he debated, but the tension in Trish's shoulders decided for him.
"It's true, we do." Ty shut the door. "And can I say that I'm really happy with my luck that of the two of you I got the gorgeous, brilliant, talented and otherwise luscious sister?" he asked, sweeping her in close. The giggle that slipped out of her was music to his ears. He'd been surprised at just how difficult it had been to watch her during Amber's visit.
He gave her a smacking kiss, then lingered. Oh, yes, and then there was the fact that they'd been so rudely interrupted. He wanted to see where her thoughts had taken her.
He wanted to see if she trusted him enough to try.
"So, what should we do now, work on the script some more, or just take a break?" he asked, then answered his own question by leading her down the hallway. "You started to ask me something before Amber showed up."
"Well, we're having problems with the scene. Maybe we should run through the blocking. Sometimes that can provide ideas," Trish suggested. The tension was gone, he noticed, and in its place arousal and just a hint of daring.
"I've always been a big fan of method acting," Ty observed, stopping at the doorway to his bedroom.
"So have I … master," she whispered, and pulled him inside.
* * *
Trish's heart hammered against her ribs as she stripped off the last of her clothing in the afternoon sunlight. He'd been there for her during Amber's visit, he'd stuck up for her in the face of Amber's criticism.
And he hadn't given her sister a second look. She felt connected to him, suddenly, in a way she never had before.
Still, it was one thing to hear Cilla and Delaney talk about the excitement of being tied up by a lover; it was another to actually do it. And yet, the idea aroused her beyond belief. What a paradox it was that the notion of being bound seemed to offer a way to complete and utter freedom.
It all came down to trust.
Ty's eyes were dark with arousal. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, stroking his fingertips along her collarbones.
"It's for research, for the sake of the script." Her voice was unsteady.
He smiled. "Lie back, then."
And now she, the one who'd always lived so quiet a life, was treading the edge, finding out what the limits of her sensuality really were. Trish stretched her arms out toward the bed posts, catching her breath at the soft brush of silk around first one wrist, then the other. She jolted as she felt Ty's fingers curl warm around her ankle.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked.
Trish moistened her lips, aroused with her own daring. "Oh, yes." The soft bond slid around her ankle as he tied it in place. She shivered as he tied the remaining ankle, and then she really was in his control.
Ty settled on the bed beside her, propping his head up on one hand. He stroked his other palm down her ribs, along her waist, over her flat belly. A sheaf of his hair fell over his forehead as he studied her.
Trish's nerves jangled. She'd expected him to tie her up and touch her. She hadn't expected him to simply look and so she fought the self-consciousness. He wanted her. He'd ignored Amber. Here, she thought with a spurt of adrenaline, was where it all came down to trust, the certainty that this was for pleasure, that he would be good to her.
And when she looked into his eyes, as she watched him watch her, she was certain of it. "You're gorgeous," Ty told her softly, tracing a finger down her neck, over her chest, and to the point of one nipple. Trish tried to move her hands to touch him—
And came up against the limits of her bonds.
"Patience," Ty reminded her, circling his ton
gue in closer to her nipple. "Don't worry about touching, just feel."
It was harder to trust that arousing her was enough for him, she discovered abruptly. She felt as if she should be doing more. She wanted to move and all she could do was hold still, quivering under his touch.
"Feel how hard I am," he whispered, pressing his cock against her. "This turns me on so much, watching you get turned on." He pulled her nipple into his mouth.
The warmth, the heat tore a moan from her. Ty felt the skin tighten into a stiff little bud and worked to level his system. He wanted to see her let loose, to feel her abandon herself to pleasure. Part of him was desperate to drive deep into her hot softness and spill himself, hut he knew he'd be sorry after. Better to prolong the experience, to stretch out the anticipation until he was grinding his teeth in a battle for control.
All the more arousing to see how far he could take her into utter ecstasy.
"Close your eyes."
"Yes, master," Trish whispered. Arousal vaulted through her. And like the fragility of a butterfly's wing, something brushed over her cheek. It wasn't the touch of lips or tongue but something softer, silk perhaps? Light as a breath, it stroked down her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. A moment later, it brushed up her other arm, stroking, caressing, even as Ty's lips moved against hers, pulling her into a deep, slow kiss. He pulled away before she was ready, leaving her waiting, heart pounding, for the next sensation.
When it came, it wasn't the brush of silk but the light scrape of teeth over her nipple, and the trail of his tongue down her quivering belly toward where she ached to feel him. Then it was gone, even as she shifted against him.
Seconds ticked by.
Something cool and smooth brushed up her calf, trailing its way up the inside of her thigh. It no more than reached the top before it was slipping down her other leg. Trish shivered. She fought the urge to open her eyes, testing herself. Trust. The touch trailed up over her hip, along the curve of her waist, and over to swirl around the tender skin of her breasts, brushing her nipples until she moaned.
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