by Pamela Aares
Sabrina sucked in a breath as Kaz walked back to the pool table.
“Kaz is sixteenth-generation samurai,” Alex said, as if the information excused Kaz’s behavior.
Derrick crossed his arms, color rising in his face. “And I’m an eighth-generation Virginian. We know something of manners. We don’t act out petty dramas and spoil a perfectly congenial afternoon.”
Bile rose in Kaz’s stomach; he talked it down. He didn’t regret his action, but he would regret throttling Alex’s guest. Not worth it, not important. You are a guest. This man means nothing to you. For many years he’d run similar words through his mind to keep from fighting unnecessary fights, to keep from flattening foolish, nasty men whose egos were bigger than their brains. He’d learned to choose his battles carefully and fight only those that mattered. But disrespect to a sword forged in honor—forged in the fire of tatara—that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let pass. But anything he said at that point would just escalate the conflict. If that happened, he might not be able to control his urge to deck the guy.
He retrieved his pool cue, took a breath and lined up his shot.
He shouldn’t have come.
Other people’s dramas were the last distraction he needed right now.
Derrick closed his hand around Sabrina’s forearm. “Let’s have that walk I suggested earlier,” he said in a smooth tone.
The absence of emotion in Derrick’s voice made Kaz think of the coolness of mafia crime bosses.
“I think you can see that it was a suggestion you should’ve agreed to.”
Sabrina looked to her brother and then to Kaz. Though Kaz wasn’t sure what he read in her eyes, it wasn’t censure. She stepped back and tugged her arm free from Derrick’s grasp.
Was Ainsley trying to start a battle or was he just a fool? He couldn’t know that the Seventh Principle—Chuu—bound Kaz to Alex and his sister.
His grandfather’s words laced through him as if he were in the room.
To do or say something means that those words or acts belong to you. You are responsible for them and all consequences resulting from them. A samurai is immensely loyal to those under his care. To those he is responsible for, he remains loyal. And when a samurai speaks, it is because he will act. There is no stepping back.
Kaz had given his word that he’d help move Sabrina back to health. And from all he’d seen, Derrick Ainsley was a block in that path.
But he couldn’t force Sabrina to step onto a path she hadn’t chosen. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and called up a quiet, peaceful image that usually calmed his anger.
“I think Spencer is expecting us for refreshments upstairs,” Sabrina said with admirable control.
Kaz opened his eyes. She left the room without looking back at any of them.
Chapter Four
Kaz had considered skipping the invitation to join Alex for breakfast the next morning. Dinner the previous night had tested his diplomatic skills and his patience. But Alex had come to the guest wing to escort him to breakfast, and there was no honorable or polite way to refuse him.
Kaz and Alex were the first to arrive in the sun-drenched breakfast room. Light spilled in from wide glass-paned doors. At Alex’s invitation, Kaz helped himself to sliced pineapple from a dish on the table and eyed the thick green liquid in the pitcher next to it.
“Kale smoothie,” Alex said. “My recipe. You’ll add an extra three miles per hour to your fastball.”
Ballplayers were known to be superstitious; Kaz wasn’t. But he’d try almost anything reasonable to improve his performance. Anything legal. Kale qualified.
“If it works for you, I’m in,” Kaz said and poured himself a glass of the stuff.
“I’m headed to SFO to pick up Jackie,” Alex said. “She’s had a rough week on Capitol Hill; policy and politics have worn her out. But at least I knew she wasn’t attempting any daredevil animal rescues. Conveniently, her flight and my mother’s arrive only half an hour apart.”
Alex tapped a serving spoon against a glass bowl that held fruit salad. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but try not to kill Ainsley while I’m gone this morning. He might deserve it, but Sabrina’s got her heart set on having him as her co-star.” He dropped the spoon into the bowl. “At least I’m hoping that’s all she wants of the guy.”
Kaz had a sister. He wouldn’t want her involved with an operator like Ainsley.
Alex’s body language during dinner the previous night had told Kaz that Alex didn’t like Derrick. What Sabrina saw in the guy, Kaz couldn’t guess. He’d heard that Hollywood types were known to hang together, but Sabrina didn’t strike him as a Hollywood type. She didn’t seem like a type at all.
Over the years his samurai training had come to serve him both socially and in the game. He’d learned to read hitters. Most times he knew whether the guy in the batter’s box would be a challenge or not. He didn’t need to study a batter’s stats: the body gave him all the information he needed.
But women? He wasn’t so good at reading women.
He’d watched the easy banter between Alex and his sister over dinner, had observed the change in Alex’s demeanor when Derrick had turned the conversation once again to himself and his accomplishments. To hear Derrick talk, you’d think he’d invented the art of acting. And it struck Kaz as odd that Sabrina seemed worlds away, as if she was present in body but her thoughts were elsewhere. If she was so interested in the guy, Kaz would’ve thought she’d pay attention when he spoke.
The click of heels on the stone floor had him instantly alert. He looked up to see Sabrina walk in with Derrick.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said to Alex. “Derrick has an audition with Hanks.” When Alex didn’t respond she added, “As in Tom Hanks. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Her make-up didn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes.
“They could’ve saved themselves time by signing me last week,” Derrick said. “But if they’d done that, my agent wouldn’t have had a chance to up the ante.”
“Congratulations,” Alex said flatly.
Kaz admired Alex’s composure.
“Derrick needs to be in LA this afternoon,” Sabrina said. “I told him he could ride to the airport with you. I’ll fly down tomorrow.”
Alex raised a brow.
“Derrick can work better down there,” she added as she slipped into a chair beside Alex.
“Fewer distractions,” Derrick said as he sat and piled his plate full of food.
“I think where you work better is the more important consideration,” Alex said to his sister.
His voice was level, his tone casual, but Kaz saw the twitch in his jaw. He’d seen that same twitch when Alex got bad calls during the playoffs. Alex had never argued with the umpires, but the twitch evidently wasn’t under his command. Sabrina’s cheeks had flushed at Alex’s direct remark, but she pulled her shoulders back and shot him a potent glance. In that moment she reminded Kaz of his sister. She exhibited the same captivating, feminine grace combined with strength. But under Sabrina’s sunny exterior, he suspected there lurked a looming, subversive self-doubt. Perhaps a deep-rooted insecurity made it difficult for her to read people and situations.
“And Kaz has agreed to stay with us a few days,” Alex added. “To help you with your shoulder.”
“I can take care of that,” Derrick said.
He said it as if healing Sabrina’s injury was a matter of making a few well-placed phone calls. Kaz didn’t like that everything about the guy got under his skin. The samurai Bushido code of respect had been drilled into him. He could almost hear his grandfather’s voice: samurai have no reason to be cruel. No need to prove their strength. A samurai is courteous even to his enemies.
Derrick was good practice, Kaz reminded himself, nothing but practice. He just needed to maintain perspective.
“Alex is right,” Sabrina said, surprising him. “Kaz has come all this way.” She pivoted in her seat and tilted her chin up to Derrick. “I
’ll join you in a few days.”
“You’d be in better hands with me,” Derrick said as he spooned eggs onto his plate.
The clink of forks against china was his answer.
Kaz clasped his hands and concentrated on slowing his quickening pulse. It was a good thing Derrick was leaving. He didn’t want to think about what he might do if the actor kept acting in ways that were clearly not in Sabrina’s best interest.
After Alex returned from his airport run, Sabrina sought him out. She found him inspecting the oldest vines, vines their father had hand carried from Italy and planted several years before he died. Alex babied those vines, as if keeping them thriving was a vigil in honor of their father’s dream. Early blooming wildflowers surrounding him with splashes of blue and yellow and crimson made him look like he was standing in an impressionist painting.
“Where’s Jackie? I didn’t see her up at the house.”
Alex brushed his hand along a trellis, testing it. “She headed off to the Albion Bay lab. Swore she’ll be back in time for dinner.”
Sabrina toed the ground in front of her. The soil was rich and loamy. Alex had spent years improving it, growing just the right cover crops to keep nutrients in the soil. It was no wonder the Trovare grape crop and the wine made from it ranked as some of the best in the world.
“I’ve thought it over.” She added a circle, then a second, to the dirt art she was drawing with her shoe. “I really should head to LA. I can have more physical therapy down there.”
Alex tucked the pruning clippers into the leather belt slung low on his hips. “You had a month and a half with those people and no progress.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“I don’t want to work with Kaz,” she said in her steadiest voice. “He’s so intense and…guarded,” she added, fishing around for words to express what bothered her about her brother’s friend. The truth was, she wasn’t quite sure what about him frazzled her.
“If you’d been raised the only Asian kid within two hundred miles, you’d be guarded too.”
“I’m sure he has more important things to do.”
Alex cupped her shoulder. “Trust me?”
Though his words had the sound of a question, she knew better. He knew she trusted him. And when he had that look in his eye, she understood she’d lost before she’d even begun to make her case. Alex had vast experience with injuries. If he thought Kaz could help, maybe he could. But Alex didn’t seem to get that she needed to return to LA. She had scenes to go over with Derrick, dialogue to test out. And he wouldn’t understand that something about Kaz set off all her internal warning bells, even if she could tell him that, which she couldn’t, since Kaz was his friend. And anyway, she was just trying to figure out the truth for herself.
“This isn’t about you,” she said firmly.
“You could’ve been a lawyer.”
“The best prosecutors have been actors or studied acting at some point.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe they all had brothers like you to deal with.”
“Fact noted,” he said with a laugh. “Look, give Kaz a chance—give yourself your best chance. I have a good feeling about it.”
“But Derrick—”
“Forget about Derrick for a few days. It’ll do you good.”
“I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but I’m tired of people telling me what’ll do me good.”
“I’m hardly the person you need to tell that to. Derrick seems to think he’s running your life.”
“He’s been an immense help. You have no idea.”
Alex patted her arm. She hated it when he did that. It meant there was a brotherly lecture to follow.
“You’re too trusting, Sabrina.”
“You just asked me if I trusted you.”
“That’s different. You’re like Dad was, always seeing the good in people.” He tapped his finger against her temple. “And since you’re so good at that, maybe you could try to see the good in Kaz helping you out. The man’s a wizard with bodies.”
“I told you that the last thing I need right now is a wizard.”
“A little magic never hurts.”
“You’ve been in the sun too long. Either that or the vineyard fairies have carted off my sensible brother and replaced him with a woo-woo Californian.”
“Give it a go? LA’s not going anywhere last I checked.”
“Okay.” She fingered the vine he’d carefully tied to the lyre-shaped espalier. “But only three days, Alex. And then I’m heading back to LA.”
Chapter Five
It wasn’t a dungeon, but at the moment it felt like one to Sabrina.
She sat on a bench in the gym that Alex had built eight years before. He’d loaded the room with every possible machine, weight and gizmo to keep him in shape during the off-season. Though she preferred hiking, or riding her horses on the network of trails that led out from Trovare, on terrifically stormy days she’d come down and use the treadmill. Some days they’d be in the gym working out together. She couldn’t help but admire the dedication and excruciatingly long hours he spent preparing for baseball season. And the pain he endured but never talked about. Every year he threatened to retire, and every year the game he loved lured him back.
She shivered against the chill in the air. The gym was tucked alongside the entrance to the wine caves, and the temperature remained constant—good for the wine, but chilly on her body unless she really concentrated on working up a sweat. She surveyed the carefully arranged room. Barbells, free weights, physioballs, ropes and weight machines lined the stone walls. The gym looked like a set from a big-budget Rocky film. Or the setting of a dark erotic thriller.
Before shooting Exigent, she’d never looked at a room or a location through the eyes of an actor. Now she had to stop herself from seeing every room or building as a set.
Footsteps sounded on the stone stairs. Kaz appeared, filling the arched doorway. The lights behind him cast his shadow out and across her.
“You’re punctual,” he said.
Guarded, my ass. The guy was downright cold.
“I do my best.”
He stepped into the room. “Look, you don’t have to do this.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the weight tower. “You have a choice. I’m not into forcing anyone to do things against their will.”
Choice. A small word that bore such power.
“I trust Alex,” she said.
“Yeah, well, so do I. That doesn’t mean you have to work with me.”
“He’s sure you can help me. A gut feeling, he said. I trust those feelings.”
A smile played across Kaz’s face, or maybe it was the reflection of the light in the mirror on the far wall, because in a second, it was gone.
“Let’s take a walk.” He picked up a tangle of webbed ropes from the floor.
“What about my shoulder? You asked me to meet you down here to work on it.”
“This walk will be all about your shoulder.” He did smile then, in full. And when he did, his face changed. His eyes lost their flat, almost steely quality and danced with life.
He slung the ropes over his shoulder.
“I’d rather start you off in the light. See you move. You can tell so much about a person when you see them move.”
She didn’t budge. It was one thing for a director to tell her to move this way or that to create an effect, but to have someone study her—to parse her natural movements?—that felt invasive and way too personal.
He must’ve noticed her hesitation because he held out his hand. Of course he noticed. He was here to notice. He was here to help her heal her body. He was…calling up feelings she wasn’t sure she wanted to explore.
“Just walking today, Sabrina, and maybe a little rope work.”
His voice had a soothing quality. She liked the sound of it. His tone was measured, almost mesmerizing. And his accent was distinct, part British English—although she couldn’t place what region—part Asian—although very slight�
��and part southern California with flat As and clipped consonants. His accent suited his somewhat formal way of speaking, but the British element puzzled her. Maybe he’d attended prep school in England like some of her friends. Other than his game stats, which she’d picked up from a quick Internet scan, she really knew little about him.
“Perhaps afterward you’ll feel comfortable allowing me to touch your shoulder and check your spine,” he said, drawing her back from her thoughts. “So much of what happens in the shoulder comes from the spine.”
Her spine? She’d never thought much about her spine. She found herself suddenly standing straighter. And recognized that she was stalling.
It struck her as odd that she’d had sex with a few men, men she’d once thought she’d loved, had spent whole nights moving her body along with theirs, but in this moment, as she looked at Kaz’s outstretched hand, she felt as if he were inviting her to cross over into a world far more intimate. And one far scarier.
He tilted his head and dropped his hand to his side. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to coax, didn’t try to reason.
He just stood there.
She was eye level with his thighs. Through the fabric of his jeans she could see the definition of his muscles.
Geez, what in the world was she doing sitting there like a ninny thinking about his thighs?
Maybe her lack of sleep and the nightmares had scrambled her brains more than she’d suspected.
“It’s a lovely day for a walk,” she said as she rose from the bench.
He nodded, ever so slightly, and smiled even more slightly. He motioned to the hallway.
“I’ll follow you.”
It could’ve been comical.
It would have been if her mind wasn’t racing with competing thoughts. At every step up the stone stairs, she was aware of Kaz’s eyes on her. On her behind. No, he’d said her spine. But he couldn’t see her spine; she wore a bulky hoodie. She’d walked how many hundreds of miles in her lifetime? She knew how to walk, how to climb stairs, but she found herself wanting to adjust this move, that step up, that transfer of weight. And some rascally part of her—some distinctly feminine part—called out for her to throw in a little swing of her hips. That wasn’t going to happen.
