Wanting Hunter: Book 1 in the Cameron Family Saga

by Shirley Larson

  Even while Liz thought these logical, down to earth thoughts, her body ached for Hunter. A half an hour away from him and she wanted him, wanted him deep within her. She thought about how wonderful it had been with him, how they’d done things together she’d never dreamed of doing with anyone. Would Hunter break it off with her if she decided not to move in with him? How could she bear that?

  Oh, for heaven’s sake, get a grip, girl. Go look at your calendar. Oh, yes, an audition tomorrow at twelve thirty and a dentist appointment at four o’clock. Wasn’t she a lucky woman?

  She knew the audition was a wash out even before she stood up to read the script and towered over the leading man. The guy was an A-list star and a lock for the part. The trouble was, he was five foot nine. No way would they cast her against him.

  On to the dentist, there to worry about the hygienist overextending Liz’s jaw and ‘it only needs this,’ walk out to discover the skies opening in a downpour. She flagged down a taxi and of course, he came roaring into the curb and splashed rainwater up on her London Fog trench coat. This was simply not her day.

  She entered the lobby of her building and found the frosting on the cake. There, leaning over the counter, his own black Burberry coat glistening with moisture, stood Mr. Hunter Cameron, looking all chatty and cozy with the doorman, Marco Martinez.

  Hunter pushed away from the counter. “Marco was telling me he has four children, two boys and two girls.” His eyes fastened on hers, and she felt that he was taking her emotional temperature, trying to understand why she looked so harried.

  “He is a lucky man.” She took off her coat and shook it out over the mat inside the door. Anything to keep from looking at Hunter and wanting to step into his arms and kiss him senseless. “Did he show you the pictures?”

  “Yes, he did,” Hunter said, watching her with those keen eyes, waiting until she was done punishing her poor defenseless coat. “Bad day?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know. It’s just hard coming back into this world from a war zone, where suddenly you’re upset about stupid little things that shouldn’t really matter at all, an audition that was a waste of my time and theirs, and a humming hygienist. Have you ever had a dental hygienist who hums while she works on you? It’s unnerving. Kind of makes you feel as if you’re already deceased and she’d preparing you for burial.”

  “Oh, Liz,” he said, smiling. “I have missed you,” he murmured in her ear, even as he put his hand on her back and guided her to the elevator. He seemed to be purposely keeping his distance from her. She felt it too, wanting to be his arms, but waiting, waiting.

  Inside her apartment, he looked around as if searching for something.

  “I thought I’d see suitcases packed and ready to go.”

  “I haven’t had time to organize myself…”

  That quickly, his face changed. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come back here.”

  “Hunter, you’ve got to admit this happened awfully fast. I think we need to take a step back. I’m just afraid I’ll disappoint you in some way, and I couldn’t bear that.”

  “You’re disappointing me now.”

  “Can’t we just…date for a while?”

  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” He’d grown cool. “Just what is it about me that you object to?”

  She stood staring at him from across the multi-colored rug, her handsome, black-haired lover who gazed at her with that cool, appraising look. “Your impatience?” At the slight scoffing sound he made, she admitted, “I…if I’m not careful, you’ll swallow me alive.”

  “You seemed to enjoy every minute of my swallowing you alive,” he said, with that dark predatory look that reminded her of all they had shared.

  “I don’t mean that. I mean, you’re such a strong, decisive man you could, if I let you, absorb my personality until there is nothing of me left. I need time to be sure. And during that time, I need some space. Away from you.”

  He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told him no. He was used to ordering his life in exactly the way he wanted it. Now it was obvious to him that he’d been fooled by a woman who acted for a living. She’d put on a good show, laughing, having mind-blowing sex with him. But she didn’t care for him at all, not really. “I can manage that. I can manage all the time you like.” He turned to leave.

  “I knew you would react like this.” She caught his arm and pulled him back from the door. “Hunter, look at me. I want you. I want you in my life. I just don’t want you to be my life.”

  He turned around to stare at her with that face she remembered from their first meeting, that face that might have been carved in stone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No,” she said, “I didn’t think you would. With you, it’s all or nothing.”

  “At least you understand that. I’ll ask you one last time. Pack up your things and come with me, Liz.”

  “Is that an ultimatum?”

  He’d let her into his life, made himself vulnerable to her, something he’d vowed long ago he’d never let happen again. He’d made the mistake of believing that the sex, and even more so, the laughter they had shared, had bound her to him, that she understood that he needed her, that they needed each other. He’d thought she felt the same way. Obviously, she didn’t. He needed to walk away, now, while he still could. “It’s whatever you want to call it, suggestion, ultimatum…a man asking a woman to show some faith in him.”

  “Please try to understand. I have all kinds of faith in you. I just need more time.”

  “How much more time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Two weeks, a month, six weeks, a year? How long, Liz?”

  “I can’t put a time limit on my feelings. It’s unfair of you to ask me to do so.” In one last desperate attempt, she said, “Hunter. Be reasonable.”

  “By being reasonable do you mean seeing you whenever you can work me into your schedule?”

  “Isn’t that what you’d be doing? You have a demanding job, too, Hunter.”

  “Yes,” he said, “but I was willing to change my routine, work at home, delegate more jobs to Alex. I was going to change my life to make time for you. It seems that you’re not willing to do the same.”

  She understood then why he was so immoveable. He’d already, in his mind, made concessions for her. He expected her to do the same. Didn’t he understand that she had less control over her life than he did his? “I’ve never…felt about anyone the way I feel about you.” She needed to keep her head. These might be the most important words she’d ever say in her life. “I’ve never made love to anyone the way I did to you. What we have together is…amazing. I want to go on seeing you, Hunter.”

  “At your convenience? I’m supposed to hang around the stage door and wait for you like some back-door Johnny? I’m too damn old for such nonsense.”

  In her desperation, she said the absolute wrong thing. “You could wait for me at home.”

  “There’s an invitation I can refuse.”

  “Hunter, wait…”

  “I’ve done enough waiting.” He turned to leave, raindrops glistening on his coat. He hadn’t been there long enough for them to dry.

  Chapter 14

  Watching him walk out that door was like watching her life end. Yet she knew she was right. Hunter wouldn’t understand the days of rehearsal, the tryouts out of town, the year or so of nightly performances. He might stay with her for a little while, but the inevitable split would come and it would kill her.

  But in the days that followed, she didn’t find a spot in a new show. Starring in one show did not guarantee a role in another. Her old bugaboo of being tall reared its ugly head. Where were all the tall leading men these days?

  It was three weeks of attending auditions, three weeks of being told she wasn’t right for the part, three weeks of no word from Hunter. Liz couldn’t decide which was worse. It was hard not hearing from him and knowing she deserved his silence.

/>   After another sad and lonely week went by, she got a call from Griffin, her music director in The King and I. He wanted her to audition for the female lead in a new show, a musical based on the book The Count of Monte Cristo. “The guy who is playing the Count is really tall,” Griff told her. “Most of the actresses I know would be looking at his navel. Want to come and read for the part?”

  “Yes,” she said, joyously. A new project was always risky, but she wasn’t in a position to be picky.

  “Griff. You’ve got backers for this show?” She wasn’t sure what made her ask the question.

  “Think so. It’s in discussion.” The pat answer for maybe yes, maybe no. He told her the day and time of the audition and she hung up the phone and danced to her calendar to pencil it in.

  Of course, the first thing she wanted to do was call Hunter and tell him the good news. Then she realized with a sinking heart that she couldn’t. First of all, they weren’t communicating and second, her having a shot at being cast in a leading role was the last thing he’d want to hear.

  The auditions were held in a rehearsal hall that was essentially a dance studio, a large expense of glistening blond oak hardwood floor, mirrors the full length of one wall. Her competition was there, four women with their heads bent over their scripts, seated in chairs facing the casting committee. The leading man lounged against the mirrored wall, also perusing his script. He was tall, all right, as tall as Hunter but with a classic Sir Lancelot face and blond hair. He’d be a perfect Count, innocent looking for the first scenes, but with a face that was quite capable of turning bitter after his imprisonment and wielding a sword against his enemy at the end of the show.

  Every director had a different technique of auditioning. Some preferred to hear the best candidate read first. Others, like Griff, would let the most likely candidate wait to hear other less suitable possibilities read and save the best for last.

  Liz took a seat in the empty chair beside the four women. She told herself she shouldn’t be nervous. But of course she was. Being on the stage in a show was easy compared to auditioning. It was always nerve-wracking to put your talent on the line, especially for a new show like this. She’d have to sight read both the music and the script, something she hadn’t done since her earliest days.

  Liz wrapped her hands together to keep them from being quite so cold and clammy when she shook hands with the composer/lyricist, Ken Thompson, and Griffin. Griff gave her a song to sing. A quick perusal of the music told her it was not rhythmically difficult and didn’t go below middle C or above octave E flat. It was a song the Count would sing first and then she would join him later. The lyrics spoke to her. Now my soul is filled with darkness, now my heart feels only pain. You were all my joy to me, my sun, my moon, my rain. It seemed to Liz that she could pour her heart into the lyrics for they fit the heartbreak she felt for Hunter.

  Then she read for the part of Mercedes, the count’s love interest, opposite the man who was to be the Count.

  After establishing a feel for the heroine in the song, the words of the script came easily to Liz.

  Griff said they’d call her soon. Sometimes that meant the next day, sometimes it meant forget it.

  It did mean the next day. When she heard Griff’s voice on the phone, she knew. “You got the part. Everybody loved you. Have you read the original book?”

  “Some of it.”

  “In the book, Mercedes is written out of the last half. In our version, Mercedes is an ongoing presence. The focus is split between the Count’s need to forgive and his reunion with Mercedes.”

  “I can’t wait to get the script.”

  “I’m having the script and the music sent over by courier as we speak.”

  “I really appreciate this, Griff.”

  “Hey. Nothing to do with me. You aced the audition…as I knew you would.”

  In Hunter Cameron’s office, Paula said over the intercom, “There’s someone named Griffin on the phone. Are we taking calls from mythical figures now?”

  “Put him through,” Hunter said.

  “We’re all set,” Griffin said. “She got the part. She was savvy enough to ask about backers, but I fobbed her off with the old standard, it’s under discussion.”

  “You do know I meant it when I said I’d back the show whether she got the part or not.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Griffin said. “I know you meant it. There’ll be a part for your sister Lynne, too. But hey, listen, Cameron. This is a new project. There’s no guarantee we’ll make money.”

  “It has the advantage of being a recognizable title.”

  Griff said, “I’m not sure that’s an advantage. We may have to go with a different title. But it’s…”

  “I know,” said Hunter, “it’s under discussion.” There was a pause. “I’ll have access to rehearsals?”

  “I’ll get another key made to the rehearsal hall. You can come and go as you please.”

  “Thanks, Griffin.”

  “No, thank you.” Hunter had just signed a contract to back the show to the tune of five million dollars. It wasn’t the entire amount Griffin needed, most musicals cost around ten and up, but it was enough money that it would attract other investors, especially now that he had Hunter on board.

  Hunter stayed away from rehearsals for the first two weeks. They were bound to be long and drawn out. There was always the chance, though it was slim, that Lynne would spot him. On the third week, he could stay away no longer. He sat way back in the balcony, but Lynne was aware of his involvement with Liz. If Hunter knew his sister, she’d be scanning the back rows, looking for him.

  On Monday evening, Hunter had slipped in around four o’clock to watch the last hour of the rehearsal. When he got home, he got a visit from his sister. She had come straight from rehearsal. Her hair, as black as his own, was tied up in a ponytail and looked slightly worse for the wear. Like Liz, Lynne was trained as a dancer, but she could sing the hell out of a song, too. She was a triple threat actress and Hunter thought it was only a matter of time before she starred in a show.

  “Okay. You want to tell me what you were doing lurking around in the back of the rehearsal hall? Are you spying on me?”

  “No,” Hunter said, “I am not spying on you. I gave that up when you turned twenty-one. I said to myself, ‘If she’s going to be an idiot, I’ll let her be one.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Lynne said, punching him in the arm. “Have you got anything cold to drink? My water bottle is empty.”

  “There’s bottled water in the frig.”

  Lynne waltzed around to where Hunter had settled into a bar stool, plunked down beside him and said, “Okay, spill it. You’re there because of Liz, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re a terrible liar. You should know better than to try it with me.” Lynne stared at him, waiting.

  “Yes.”

  “You wouldn’t by any chance have broken your long standing rule and invested in a Broadway show, have you?”

  “No…yes.”

  “Well, well, well. My brother who hates the theater has become an angel. How much?”

  “None of your business.”

  “That much, eh?” Lynne turned her head to study his apartment. It looked like the same sterile abode as ever. “Where is Liz’s stuff?”

  “Where do you think it is? In her apartment,” he growled.

  “You mean she isn’t living with you? Wow. You’ve got it bad, brother.”

  “I don’t ‘have it bad.’ I’m merely trying a new source of making money.”

  “With something as risky as a brand new show? I doubt it. Although, with Liz in the show, you might, just might, get a return on your investment. So do you go over and stay with her?”

  “No. We’re not seeing each other at the moment.”

  “Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly? You’re not seeing each other at the moment and yet you’re a major backer for her show? Wait till I tell Alex this.”

  “You
need,” Hunter said slowly, “to keep this to yourself. No telling anybody in the family, no telling anybody in the cast. You got that? You don’t understand the damage you might do.”

  “You mean if Liz found out you’d sunk a huge chunk of change in this show, she’d walk off the set? I don’t think so, bro.”

  “I can’t take that chance. Promise me, Lynne.”

  She grinned that irrepressible Lynne smile. “Pinkie swear?” She held up her hand, little finger extended. When he grimaced, she taunted him. “No pinkie swear, no promise.”

  “What are you, ten?”

  She just sat there with her elbow on the counter and her finger out.

  “Pinkie swear,” he said, feeling like an idiot, but knowing that Lynne would keep her word.

  “I’d better go home and shower.”

  “Yes, would you? You’re smelling up the place.”

  “I don’t smell that bad.” She picked up her tee and sniffed. “Well, maybe I do.” She slid off the bar stool. “Hunter, this has got to be a new experience for you, having to wait for someone I’m guessing you want rather badly.”

  “What did you do, look into your crystal ball?”

  “I don’t need a crystal ball to see how lovesick you are.”

  “Lovesick? I am not lovesick. I would never be lovesick.”

  She threw her arms around him. “It’s okay to finally join the human race, big brother. It’s time to stop being a father to your ungrateful sibs and be yourself.”