by Romy Sommer
Dom shrugged. “I guess we’ll see you later, then.”
‘What gives?’ was that Dom did not feel much like sharing Nina with anyone this evening. Who would have thought the life and soul of every party would prefer to stay home on a Saturday night? But it wasn’t as much the place as the person he wanted to stay in for.
And he suspected Nina on this adrenalin high would be trouble.
He gritted his teeth as he paced the living room waiting for her to appear. When she did, he really did not want to take her out. He’d been right about trouble.
Her newly blonde hair was tumbled messily into a knot on her head, one of those casual dos that had probably taken more than half an hour to get right. She’d done her eyes all big and smoky. And the dress…
“Jeans might draw less attention,” he suggested. His mouth felt almost too dry to form the words.
“I don’t feel like jeans tonight.” With a slight swagger to her hips, she crossed the room. God, she smelled even better than she looked.
“Vicki certainly didn’t pack that dress for you.” He eyed the sheer black fabric that clung to her hips and thighs. It was a wrap-around dress that dipped between her breasts, emphasizing every single enchanting curve. And it barely reached mid-thigh.
Vicki was more a jeans and tee girl.
“No, she didn’t. Wendy insisted, though. She said you never know when a girl is going to need her Little Black Dress.”
Thank you, Wendy. He swallowed and held out his arm to her. “Shall we go?”
“It’ll have to be the Jeep,” she warned. “My hair won’t stand up to helmet head.”
“We won’t need either,” he said. “The pub’s not that far, so I usually walk it.” The walk home, with the fresh breeze blowing in off the sea, was usually a great way to sober up after any over-indulgence.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Was he ever! Though not for going out and sharing her with a pub full of horny men, and there were more than enough of those in his circle of friends. One drink. Just one drink and he was bringing her home so they could pick up where they’d left off when his damned cell phone rang.
The Irish-themed pub was Dom’s regular hang-out spot, less than a mile from his home and a couple of blocks from the beach. When they reached the boardwalk, she paused. “I can’t walk all the way in these shoes.”
She slid out of her high heels to carry them in her hand. He’d never met an actress willing to walk barefoot to a party before. In public. But then, if there was one thing he’d learned in this past week, Nina was no ordinary actress. She was no ordinary woman. She was one in a million.
She deserved a man who was one in a million, too, and that certainly wasn’t him, no matter what his body had thought on the beach this morning.
It was a perfect evening, neither too hot nor too cold, the air clear. Twilight had fallen, and gaudy lights spilled from the store fronts onto the crowded pavement. The air hung heavy with the scent of fast foods, and loud music thumped, different beats blaring from each store they passed. Voices and laughter rose over the music, as if the whole world was ready to party tonight.
This was nothing like their relaxed morning runs along the beach, when most of the world still slept, but instead of enjoying the raucous carnival atmosphere, Nina set a brisk pace as if in a hurry to get where they were going. He soon understood why.
“Hey, aren’t you…?” someone called through the crowd.
And then “Nina! Over here!”
She carried on walking as if she hadn’t heard, and when he looked back over his shoulder, she hissed at him “Don’t look. Don’t make eye contact!”
Then someone tried to grab her arm. Dom swung around, gripping the hand until it let go Nina’s arm.
“Ouch!” a woman yelped.
“Don’t, Dom!” Nina begged, her voice low and urgent. He let go.
“I am so sorry,” Nina said, smiling at her assailant. “We were in a bit of a hurry.”
How could she smile at a complete stranger who’d just grabbed her? Dom waited impatiently as she signed autographs for the woman and her friend and made small talk.
“Why didn’t you just tell her to piss off?” he asked as they hurried on at last.
“And have her tell the press that I’m rude and my bodyguard attacked her?” She shook her head. “Most people respect boundaries, but some people forget what’s appropriate. They think because they’ve seen you on the TV screens in their own homes that they know you, that you belong to them.”
He’d seen Christian mobbed many times, but somehow that had been different. Most of the time, Christian loved the attention, and when he didn’t want it he just gave fans The Look and they backed away. But Christian had been a trained fighter. Nina was a woman, and not a particularly fierce one at that. Maybe a tougher public image and an ability to fight back would come in useful in her personal life as well as her professional life.
Though if he were honest, he’d never resented the intrusion of Christian’s fans because he hadn’t minded sharing Christian’s attention. He very much resented having to share Nina’s.
The rest of their walk he scanned the crowded boardwalk for trouble. They were stopped twice more and each time Nina smiled and chatted, putting in more effort than a Starbucks’ server, but he didn’t miss the tension in her shoulders, or the way her smile seemed forced.
He’d never felt so helpless, and a mile had never seemed so far.
He only relaxed his vigilance as they reached the pub and he held the door open for her, waited as she stepped back into her impossibly high heels. The added height did more than help her look him in the eyes. In the space of a heartbeat the woman before him changed. Gone was the amiable, easygoing woman who’d chatted with her fans. She straightened her shoulders, wriggled her hips, and set a flirty smile in place. This was the Trouble look he’d been afraid of.
Then they stepped into another world of low, timber-beamed ceilings and dark, hardwood floors. Part of the bar’s charm was that it reminded him of the British pubs he’d visited during film shoots abroad. The other part of its charm was that it was as unpretentious as anything in LA could be. The tables were scarred, the music was of the sing-along variety, and the waitresses actually smiled.
He’d barely stepped through the door behind Nina when one of said waitresses stopped in his path. “You made it,” she said, pressing herself against him.
“Hi, Olivia.” Though he aimed to kiss her cheek, she turned her head so her lips met his.
“Shall I get your usual?” she purred.
He nodded and disentangled her arm from his waist. They had an on-again, off-again sex-only relationship that lasted only as long as one of them wasn’t with anyone else, and it had always seemed a pretty good arrangement. But tonight he wasn’t interested. There was only one woman he could even think of making love to right now, to the point where the thought consumed him – and that was the woman studiously avoiding all eye contact.
They’d barely made it a few steps further into the room before another of the waitresses sidled up to him.
“I’ll have a beer,” Nina said, forestalling her.
With a curt nod for Nina and a wink for him, the waitress turned away and headed to the bar.
“Is there any woman in here you haven’t slept with?” Nina muttered, still not meeting his gaze.
Only you. “In my defense, there aren’t that many women in here,” he answered.
He led her across the room towards the corner where a rowdy group was already gathered. A shout of welcome went up.
“You’re late,” Evan said, raising his voice over the noise.
“Hi, everyone.” Dom pulled Nina forward. “This is Nina Alexander. Nina, this is everyone.”
Someone whistled. Someone else clapped him on the back. And Jacob, the youngest member of their crew, practically shoved Vicki out the way to clear a space for Nina at his side. “You’re even prettier off the movie screen,” he s
aid, smiling at her. “What are you doing with this lug?”
“I’ve hired him to train me for a role,” she replied, smiling back at Jacob as she slid into the space he’d made for her.
Disappointment pierced Dom’s chest. So she still saw him as the hired hand?
Then she looked up at him, through her long eyelashes, and there was challenge in her gaze, as if she were saying anything you can do, I can do better.
“I bet you’re a smooth, rich Merlot kind of girl,” Jacob said, holding up a hand to wave to the bartender.
Nina glanced at the Budweiser Olivia had just handed to Dom. The other waitress seemed to have forgotten her order. “Actually, I’d rather have one of those. But make mine a light.”
Dom smiled. He could see how she’d earned her down-to-earth reputation. His smile didn’t last long. Jacob slid a little closer to Nina, brushing her arm with his. “I didn’t realize you were from the South. You don’t speak with a Southern accent in any of your movies.” He leaned in. “I love a woman with a Southern accent.”
Dom’s fists clenched, but he reined in the white-hot anger that suddenly coursed through him. If she hadn’t wanted his protection from complete strangers on the boardwalk, then he doubted she’d want to be at the center of a bar brawl.
Jacob continued blithely. “I grew up in Alabama. Where are you from?”
“Louisiana.”
Dom frowned. Her IMDB biography said she was from Iowa. Though it hadn’t been the most detailed bio, little more than the names of her parents and the high school she’d graduated from. He would have remembered if there’d been more.
Nina took the bottle the bartender placed on the bar counter beside her. Ignoring the ice-frosted pint glass next to it, she raised the bottle to her mouth and swigged. Then she licked her lips and set the bottle back down. Both the barman and Jacob swallowed. Dom was pretty sure he did, too.
He downed a gulp of his own beer, but the alcohol didn’t help.
Nor did the next one that Olivia handed him half an hour later. He didn’t bother to check if Nina wanted another. He didn’t need to, with Jacob dancing attendance on her.
Jacob was nearly ten years younger than him, closer to Nina in age, and with pretty-boy features all the girls loved. He was also rapidly gaining a reputation like Dom’s. Usually that fact didn’t irk Dom. Tonight it did. If she didn’t deserve a bore like Paul de Angelo, Nina certainly didn’t deserve a heartless womanizer like Jacob.
Or himself.
He probably should have rescued her from Jacob’s clutches, but there was no way he could do it without looking like a tom cat in heat.
Which would play straight into her hands. He knew what game she was playing. He’d helped enough women play it over the years, though he’d usually been the patsy the woman flirted with in order to gain the attention of the man she really wanted.
Jealousy. Until now he hadn’t known what an ugly, twisted emotion it was.
Vicki slipped into the spot beside him and placed her arm through his. “So how are things going with you and Nina?”
“As you can see, she hasn’t given up yet. She’s tougher than she looks. In fact, if the bottom ever falls out of the acting thing, she’d probably make a pretty good stunt woman.”
“I don’t mean the training, I mean you and her. Have you had a lovers’ tiff already?”
Dom’s back stiffened. “There’s nothing between us.”
“Then why do you look like you want to punch something, and why does she keep shooting you little glances while she flirts with every other man in here?”
He shrugged, though he knew the answer very well. Nina was punishing him. And it was working.
Vicki’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Dom to Nina. “She reminds me of me… do you remember when I spent that whole night flirting with you to force Ben to make a move on me?” Vicki clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my…! You haven’t slept with her yet!”
He scowled. Forget that it was exactly what he’d wanted to do before fate, in the form of a phone call, had intervened. “That would be a spectacularly bad idea.”
“Why? She’s obviously into you.”
“And I’m me, which means I’ll nail any woman in the immediate vicinity, right?” He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter.
“That’s not what I meant.” Vicki sighed. “I meant that it’s clear you’re into her too. You’re both available, you’re both adults, so what’s stopping you?”
“I’m her trainer. It wouldn’t be right.” On at least a couple of levels. He drained his beer bottle. “She deserves a man who’ll treat her right.” A man who wasn’t damaged goods both emotionally and physically, but since he’d done such a good job hiding the extent of his injury from his team he wasn’t about to reveal it now.
Vicki chuckled. “If I remember correctly, you’re pretty good at treating a woman right.”
He shook his head. “Nina isn’t the kind of girl who’ll have spontaneous sex in the dark corner of a club or on the back seat of a car.” Which was what most women wanted from him.
“Wanna bet?” Vicki smiled. “She’s just had a very public break-up. What she needs now is a gorgeous sex object who can make her feel like a desirable woman again. And if there’s one thing you’re good at, that’s it.”
Yeah, that was him: the sex object.
Vicki leaned in close to whisper in his ear, and Dom didn’t miss the quick sidelong glance Nina sent them. “Besides, you’re not 20 anymore. You might want to try regular sex in a bed sometime.” She slid her arm out of his. “I’d better get back to my husband before the famous movie actress claws my eyes out with her bare hands.”
With a laugh she moved away and he frowned after her.
Vicki was right. He was getting old.
He had to admit, as much fun as he’d had in his life, the novelty was wearing thin. Most women tended to have their fun with him, then they moved on as soon as they found Mr. Right. Like Vicki and Ben. From the day he’d introduced them, neither had even looked at anyone else.
One day Olivia would meet someone too and stop calling. That was always the way it worked. They were grateful to him for being there when they needed him, but as soon as they no longer needed him…
Nina would be just the same. And her attention span wouldn’t last as long as Olivia’s had. Like every other actress he’d known, Nina wanted him only because he hadn’t dropped at her feet. But as soon as that changed, she’d lose interest and be gone.
He rubbed his face.
He knew the score. Because he was just the same. But just once it would be nice to find a woman for whom he was the end result rather than a means to an end. For whom he was more than just a plaything.
A week ago he’d told Nina in no uncertain terms he only wanted women who weren’t looking to settle down, women who wanted nothing from him but uncomplicated sex. And here he was contemplating something very, very different.
And with completely the wrong woman. There was no way a successful A-list actress would even consider a washed-up stunt man like himself. A man like him would never fit in with her ambitions.
Across the circle Jacob now had his arm around Nina’s waist. She didn’t push him away and Dom scowled at his empty beer bottle. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d known the mood she was in. He’d been there himself often enough. How many times had he stood at this same bar, revved-up on the high of a stunt gone well and picked up a convenient woman to help him burn off that excess adrenalin?
And after a week of pushing her away, he could hardly blame her for turning to someone else to burn it off. But it didn’t mean he had to like it. And it didn’t mean he had to stand here and watch.
He needed something a whole lot stronger than beer tonight.
Chapter Eight
Nina resisted the urge to stamp her foot in frustration as Dom turned and walked away to the bar.
What more did she have to do? She’d thrown herself at him over and over again
, she’d dressed to kill, and now she’d spent an hour flirting with his friends in the vain hope he’d stride on over and take her away from here. Preferably to his bed.
What did it take to bring out the Neanderthal in a man these days?
Jacob’s hand slid from her waist to her butt. She should push him away. He was good looking, and she had no doubt he knew how to please a woman, how to ease this buzz in her blood, but she didn’t want him. Any more than he wanted her.
Jacob liked the idea of her, the idea of scoring with a famous actress, but she could have been any one of a dozen nameless actresses and it would have made no difference to him. And he would be disappointed if he learned that beneath the larger-than-life image she was just an ordinary girl with ordinary weaknesses.
But Dom was different. He’d seen her first thing in the morning and without make-up. He’d even seen her sweat. And still the undeniable sensual tension sizzled between them.
Right now she couldn’t take that unrequited sizzle another moment longer. She needed a moment alone, a moment to regroup. She pulled out of Jacob’s grasp, “Please excuse me.”
The restrooms were behind the bar, down a long, dark passage that smelled of stale beer and detergent. She locked herself inside the tiny cubicle and stared at her reflection in the streaked mirror.
A stranger stared back.
A wild-eyed stranger with platinum-blonde hair.
She couldn’t splash her face without messing up her make-up, so she let the cold water run over her wrists and rubbed wet fingertips over the back of her neck.
It didn’t help. She still felt feverish and excited. Alcohol zinged in her veins along with the residual adrenalin high.
Who was she kidding? This wasn’t entirely alcohol or adrenalin. This was Dominic Kelly, the man who’d been bringing out wild urges in her and making her want to do bad, bad things from the day they’d met.
But what if he rejected her again? Stardom was no guarantee against rejection. If anything, it made rejection worse, because who could she turn to without the risk of her feelings being splashed out there for the whole world to see, as if the public had the right to her mortification?
