Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One

by Marie Ferrarella

  She nodded and went to the chair, but mentally she disagreed with him. Nothing about him seemed to be boring to her. Finding a sharp, new angle with which to write her article was getting to be harder and harder. She definitely didn’t want it to sound like a gushy movie magazine article, endlessly extolling his virtues. There had to be a chink in the armor, she told herself. But somehow, she wasn’t all that anxious to find it any more.

  Less woman and more journalist, she reminded herself firmly. Taking out her pad, she sat with her pencil poised and ready, waiting for inspiration to strike.

  The only inspiration that struck had nothing to do with writing a good story.

  “How about a dip in the pool?” Nick asked, towering over Shane as he wiped the gleam of perspiration from his face. After his workout, his muscles bulged even more. Shane could see the definition of his stomach muscles through the net T-shirt.

  She hastily closed her pad, which had gained nothing but three elaborate doodles in the last hour. “It’s kind of cool outside for that,” she said, trying to recall seeing a pool on the grounds. Its absence had struck her as a trifle odd at the time. She had thought a house this size would have one.

  “It isn’t outside,” he informed her. “I’ve got an indoor pool right on the other side of the gym.”

  Shane rolled her eyes heavenward. “Doesn’t everyone?” She followed him through the gym, trying to replace her pad and unused tape recorder in her bag. The objects fell with a thunk to the bottom of the shapeless brown purse as she hefted it over her shoulder.

  The rectangular pool, with its crystal-blue water, shimmered invitingly, highlighted by another skylight. But there was a problem. “I don’t have a bathing suit,” she pointed out. Swimming and sunbathing had not crossed her mind when she had been packing for her trip.

  “So?” he asked innocently. “I promise I won’t look.”

  She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. What she did know was that she felt an electric thrill radiating through her.

  “Even if you did look, there wouldn’t be much to see,” she said drolly. “I’m sitting this one out, thank you.” She was about to drop her purse into a blue-and-white-striped lounge chair as she heard Nick say, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” When she turned back to look at him, she saw him rummaging through a closet built into the side wall.

  “Here,” he said, producing something out of its innards that looked like tangled black string.

  “Here what?” Shane asked, taking it from him.

  “Here’s your bathing suit,” he told her.

  She tried to smooth out the offering and stretch it across the important areas. There was hardly anything there. “This isn’t a bathing suit,” she protested. “It’s a doily. Where did you get it?” Who was the last woman who’d worn it? Did he specialize in women who were size six?

  “That’s an undelivered gift,” he told her. “The lady it was meant for went her separate way a long time ago,” he said and Shane wondered if it was true. Who in her right mind would leave him?

  “Try it on,” he urged.

  There were all sorts of reasons why she shouldn’t put it on, she told herself, standing in the adjoining powder room and tying the silken black straps behind her neck. So why was she doing this? She couldn’t even swim. Where was her reason? Put your clothes back on, her common sense instructed her as she turned the doorknob and went out.

  For one moment, the voice of her common sense retreated to less than a whisper as she basked in Nick’s obvious admiration.

  “See, I told you it’d fit. I have a good eye.”

  Which must be growing into an eagle eye, if it thrived on skin. Such self-conscious thoughts faded, though, as she took a good look at Nick. He was wearing even less than he had in the gym. Now he wore a bathing suit that added new meaning to the word “brief.” It was a striking shade of blue and was tantalizingly molded to his body. Shane’s pulse was doing strange things all on its own as Nick’s extreme maleness telegraphed itself to her.

  “Come here,” he urged, stretching out one hand languidly. “Sit by me.”

  “I have a better view here,” she told him. She cleared her throat. “I need to take in the atmosphere of this room.”

  I need to stay away from you, she silently amended. Her senses were beginning to feel slightly drugged. Must be the humidity from the pool, she tried to tell herself. Shane McCallister didn’t react to men this way, even if they were gorgeous. Especially if they were gorgeous. “It looks a little like a grotto,” she told him, gesturing at the white statues of ancient goddesses that stood in niches in the far wall.

  “All it needs is a water sprite,” he said, rising to his feet in a fluid motion.

  Nick took hold of her hand and was drawing her toward the water. She had an inkling of what his intention was, before panic seized her.

  “No, really, I don’t think this is a good idea,” she protested, “I—“

  Playfully, he picked her up and threw her into the water, then dove in after her. She opened her mouth to protest more as she hit the surface. Chlorinated water rushed into her mouth, filling it and choking her. Her eyes stung, and she sank into the water, arms flaying. Her head pounded horribly, demanding air for her lungs, but there wasn’t any. She was sinking, sinking. . .

  And then there was air, air all around her, cold and good. Gentle hands were placing her on something flat and hard. She was out of the pool. Her chest heaved, drawing in the sweet air, and she began to cough violently. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Nick’s concerned face looming over her. She was lying next to the pool, and he was brushing away the hair that was plastered against her face.

  “Are you all right?”

  She tried to nod. “Yes,” she said in a raspy whisper.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim?” he demanded. “Lord, I’m sorry. Sometimes I do things impulsively.”

  She felt foolish as she shrugged her shoulders weakly. “I didn’t want to admit it,” she muttered. Then she noticed the three long red scratches on his arm. “Oh, no, did I do that?” she asked, sitting up shakily and touching the marks with hesitant fingertips.

  “They’ll heal,” he told her dismissively. “Besides, I deserve them, and worse. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  His expression—one of concern mingled with apology—took all her self-righteous anger away. How could she berate him, when he was obviously feeling so badly about it?

  “I thought you were supposed to be perfect,” she accused.

  “Impulsiveness is my Achilles’ heel. I usually know what I want right away and act on it.” Nick stroked her cheek gently, his fingers gliding down to her chin.

  Pure desire blossomed in Shane’s body. She was afraid that he could read the emotion in her eyes, and tried to look away, but Nick lifted her chin so that her eyes were level with his. Ever so slowly, his mouth descended to hers, making her taste his kiss before it had been born. The breathlessness that overtook her was totally different from what she had just experienced. This time her breath was a casualty to the delicious sensations that were overtaking her as Nick’s kiss grew in magnitude.

  He was on his knees, drawing her up against him, molding her soft contours against his hardening body, making her feel as if they were two halves of a whole. His hands were everywhere, stroking her wet skin and making it blaze with passion. She was aware of the fact that his lips had left hers and were now putting their mark on her flesh. Kisses rained lightly on her eyes, her cheeks, her throat. His tongue played momentarily with the beating pulse in the hollow of her throat, erotically arousing her even further. She felt her breasts tighten, the nipples forming rounded buds yearning to be caressed. Yearning for his touch.

  As if reading her thoughts, Nick’s next movement brought him down to the planes of her breasts. His large hands easily slipped the wet black material away from her alabaster skin, and he cupped each breast in his hands, sensuously rubbing them both until sh
e was sure she was going to cry out. A restless movement flowed through her hips as she felt his tongue tease first one rosy nipple and then another.

  His touch, though still gentle, grew more urgent as, once again, he pulled her against him. His lips pressed hard on hers, passion flowing from his mouth as their breaths mingled and became one. She was being absorbed by him, her own will disappearing into the swirling haze he created for her.

  “Hi! You hungry—oh!”

  Scottie’s exuberant voice slashed the air. Reality crashed around Shane and she struggled for composure. Nick had released her and was now standing with his back to her, providing protective cover for her. Hurriedly she slipped the wayward bikini back in place and wished the flames in her cheeks would die down.

  “I—I brought sandwiches,” Scottie said lamely.

  As Shane turned around, rising awkwardly to her feet, her knees still a bit weak, she noted that Scottie didn’t know what to do with his eyes. In his hands, slightly tilted, was a tray full of different sandwiches. The cans of soda looked as if they’d tumble to the ground any second. He looked far more uncomfortable than she did, and she rose to the occasion, stepping forward

  “That was very nice of you,” she said, taking the other end of the tray. “I—I nearly drowned,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact about it. Yes, she had nearly drowned! Twice. “Your boss thought it might be funny if he threw me in the pool,” she went on, setting the tray on the white table between two of the chaise lounges. “Unfortunately, I don’t swim, and he had to rescue me.”

  “Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation can be rewarding,” Nick told Scottie, who seemed to accept the excuse without batting an eye.

  As the three of them sat down to share the sandwiches, Shane couldn’t help wondering how many scenes like this Scottie had walked in on before. Something more than professional curiosity was being aroused here, she realized.

  After a sufficient amount of time had lapsed, Nick informed Shane that he was going to teach her how to swim. Despite all her protests to the contrary, Shane found herself back in the water.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Nick assured her. “Scottie is here for added protection.”

  She wondered if the twinkle in his eye gave his words another meaning. What she needed protection from most of all was not the water, but herself. Nick had opened a Pandora’s Box of emotion within her. She was shaken to the core and not at all sure she could handle those emotions. She tried to push those thoughts away and concentrated hard on the swimming pointers Nick gave. By the end of the session, she had managed to master floating.

  A phone call interrupted the relaxed gaiety. Nick’s opinion was needed on some last-minute script changes.

  “You want to come along?” he asked her after relaying the message to Shane. “You can record a little more of my life,” he added with a wink.

  She caught a reflection of herself at the bottom of the gleaming silver tray that Scottie had brought in earlier. Her hair, just beginning to dry, was a mass of tangled frizz. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “If I’m to go to that party with you, I’d better see if someone can do something about this mess,” she said, holding out one crinkled strand.

  “Suit yourself,” Nick said. “Personally, I think it’s cute.” With that, he kissed the top of her head and instructed Scottie to see about getting her home.

  Shane watched him leave the room. There was a strange tightness in her chest that she tried to ignore.

  Chapter Five

  Shane’s hair swirled around her head, flagrantly defying her hairbrush in her efforts to get it to rest in its proper place. After her shopping trip, she hadn’t found a beauty salon that would take her at such a late hour; she had to rely on her own resources. The gypsy-like creature who stared back at her from the mirror told Shane that her resources weren’t doing too well. She liked to wear her hair straight, parted in the middle. It gave her a cool, untainted quality. This hairdo made her look wild and reckless; as if she should be dancing barefoot and shaking a tambourine by a campfire.

  “Fitting, isn’t it?” she asked herself, surrendering the hairbrush to the shelf, and gave in to the inevitable. First he changed her cool interior and then he dumped her in the pool and went to work on her exterior. Two days around Nick Rutledge, and she hardly looked like the same person—or felt like her!

  “And where is this all going to lead, pray tell?” she baited the self reflected in the mirror as she took the new cocktail dress from its box. “One month from now, all you’ll be is a name to Nick Rutledge. Do you really want to get involved, maybe even fall in love, and then have it end in a month?” The reflection had no answers for her, just a very strange light in its eyes.

  Shane sighed and wiggled into her dress. The front came down to a provocative V, while all that covered her bare back were two thin straps that crisscrossed, weaving their way down to her trim waist. The dress flared slightly from that point, with just enough material about her hips and legs to swish invitingly. She had bought it for the party. More than that, she had bought it to wear for Nick.

  “Shane, there’s nothing wrong with looking good,” she told her reflection sternly. “But get off this merry-go-round before you fall off your horse reaching for that brass ring. Falling for a movie star doesn’t have one sensible thing going for it. Now, write that article and keep your damned heart out of it!”

  She was a doer, and hated waiting around, yet was always ready early. She sat down with her notebook in hand to formulate bits and pieces that would eventually go into the article. She had been resolved to write the best article possible. Now she couldn’t write anything at all. An entire day wasted.

  This had to stop. She had to get hold of herself. She had always been able to control her emotions before, except for that brief period with Alan. And even then, she had been the one who filed for the divorce. She couldn’t afford to fall in love again. The emotion ruined all the well-placed order in her life and definitely interfered with her goals.

  A knock on the door interrupted the pep talk she was giving herself, the words fleeing as that now-familiar tingling took hold of her. Maybe, she thought, striding toward the door, she had been working herself too hard these last few years. She hadn’t had a vacation. Maybe this wasn’t a crazy kind of love she was heading for. Maybe it was just a nervous breakdown. Maybe—

  Disappointment registered on her face as she swung open the door and found Scottie standing there instead of Nick.

  “Boy, you look terrific!” he told her, his eyes bright.

  Shane smiled, pleased. Maybe the wayward gypsy look was in. “Thank you. Couldn’t Nick make it?” she asked, glancing up and down the hallway.

  “Oh, he’s in the car. He thought it’d be better if he didn’t come out and cause a commotion,” Scottie explained, “since he’s dressed up.”

  “How’s that again?” Shane asked, picking up a small cloth purse she had bought to go with her dress.

  “People expect to see celebrities all dressed up, and that makes him easier to spot. If he’s wearing faded jeans, people stand around and wonder, ‘Is it or isn’t it?” If he’s dressed in a tux, they seem to know for sure.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Shane responded. She hadn’t thought about how much privacy a celebrity gives up in exchange for that line of work. It was beginning to sound less glamorous all the time. She pulled the door shut behind her as Scottie led the way back to the elevator.

  Nick waited for her in the back of the black limousine, the dark-tinted windows protecting him from the outside world. Shane felt as if she were entering an inner sanctum. Scottie closed the door behind her and went up to the driver’s seat.

  “Hi,” Nick said warmly. Even in the dim light she could see the look of absolute appreciation in his eyes. “Very nice,” he said huskily, moving closer to her.

  “I found this dress in a little shop down the—“

  “I was talking about you,” Nick interrupted, touc
hing her hair. “I like it like this. It gives you a wild, free look.”

  “As in fair game?” she queried uncertainly.

  “I never indulge in games off the set,” he told her, and Shane thought that he sounded sincere. But then, after all, the man was an accomplished actor. He could sound sincere selling her the Brooklyn Bridge or property in Atlantis.

  “I see that this morning’s near-drowning appears not to have had a permanent effect on you,” he said. His gaze carefully washed over every inch of her.

  Lord, he made her nervous. “None,” she confirmed. “What’s the occasion for the party?” she asked, feeling it wise to change the topic.

  “It’s Saturday,” he told her.

  “That’s an occasion?”

  “It is to Gloria,” he said with a laugh. “She likes to have parties. Other people like to go to parties. It all works out,” he told her easily. “You look very tense,” he added after a pause. “Want another massage?”

  The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to put his hands on her again. “No!” she said quickly, then added, “thank you,” in a more subdued tone. “Besides, I should be working,” she said, trying to sound a little more like her old self.

  “You are working,” he assured her. “You’re getting to know me better.” He slipped an arm about her shoulders.

  “I mean really—“

  “Well, if you’d like to get to know me in the biblical sense, that can be arranged too. We don’t have to go to this party. ...” His voice trailed off as his hand began to make lazy patterns on her bare back.

  Shane pursed her lips. “I meant I should be asking you more questions.”

  “Ah, yes, more questions.” Nick sighed. “All right, fire away.”

  “Are you interested in anyone very special at the moment?” she heard herself asking. Very professional, McCallister. The man’s not dumb. He can see right through that one. A four-year-old could see through that one.