by Pamela Aares
She couldn’t argue with that.
He pulled the ropes free of the branch and then bent to retrieve the sling she’d forgotten she’d been wearing. He held it out. Relief swept her when she saw that he wasn’t going to help her don it. If he touched her one more time, she just might scream with the tension of it all.
She snugged the sling into place.
“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing to the path.
She felt his eyes on her all the way back to the drawbridge. Finally she could stand it no longer. For pity’s sake, she’d walked a few hundred yards to a tree, moved her arms a couple of times, and yet she was exhausted. But at least she could have him go up the steps to the drawbridge first. She wasn’t sure she could bear having him behind her again.
“After you,” she said with a mock bow.
A smile played into his face. It wasn’t taunting, but it told her that he knew the effect he had on her.
She suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted more lessons.
Chapter Six
After dinner, Kaz joined Alex in the game room. A staccato clatter shot out as Alex expertly broke and scattered the balls across the billiard table.
“How’d it go with Sabrina today?”
Kaz liked Alex, but he didn’t know him well enough to tell him that Sabrina had raised a challenge Kaz hadn’t expected. There was no one he could tell about the conflicted feelings that working with Sabrina had stirred.
Having sexual thoughts about someone he was supposed to be helping felt wrong.
All wrong.
He could almost hear his grandfather’s voice reminding him that makoto, one edict of the samurai code, required honesty, even if the truth caused discomfort, perhaps especially when the truth caused discomfort. He might not be able to deny his reaction, but he could shove such thoughts down. If he kept himself in check, he could help Sabrina. He knew her problem well, perhaps too well.
“Like you, she has a strong body,” Kaz said in a non-committal tone.
Alex looked up from his shot. “And like me she has a stubborn streak?”
“Stubborn is a strong word. She forces her body to bend to her mind instead of unifying the power from each. You don’t do that, Alex.”
“Yeah, well, she hasn’t had to face fastballs for fifteen years. Survival is a great motivator.”
Kaz laughed.
“Think you can get her into shape?”
“That depends on her,” Kaz said. “She needs sleep first. There’s a tiredness in her I rarely see in young people. And she needs to get in touch with what’s blocking her.”
Alex missed his shot. “Her new film has her riled. She thinks the character she’s playing is haunting her.”
Kaz raised a brow.
“Well, she didn’t say that exactly, but I know she’s having nightmares.”
Kaz nodded, took his shot and landed balls in the side and corner pockets. He tapped another into the opposite side pocket.
“I will beat you, Kaz. One day. I may have to tie one of your hands behind your back, though.” Alex crossed the room to where the samurai sword hung on the wall. “What do you know about these?”
“How long have you got?” Kaz bent over the table. “Eight ball, side pocket.”
“Maybe the medium-length version. I promised Jackie I’d walk with her when she gets back.”
Breakfast the next morning was a noisy affair. Alex, his mother and Jackie all talked at once.
Kaz felt like he’d been dropped into a television reality show, one where the families easily burst into light-hearted banter and over-the-top enthusiasm. Everyone except Sabrina. She appeared preoccupied.
“One of our biggest donors showed up with a hired photographer for the seal release yesterday,” Jackie said as she popped a fig into her mouth. “She thought we meant Navy SEALs. It took Gage twenty minutes and three doughnuts to talk her out of her disappointment. Luckily for us, she still wrote a check.”
Sabrina didn’t laugh as she poured herself a second cup of coffee. “I’ve decided to head down to LA this afternoon,” she announced. “Derrick and I need to go over the ending scenes before full rehearsals in two weeks.”
The laughter and talk stopped.
“You’re not ready,” Alex said. “You should rest and work with Kaz for a couple more days.”
Kaz took a big swig of coffee. Family business was family business. And Sabrina had to make her own choices.
“I’m going, Alex. Get your head around the fact. And I’d appreciate it if you all would stop being so negative about Derrick. For my sake.”
“We’re negative about him for your sake, darling,” her mother said.
“Not funny, Mother.”
“But your injury,” Alex said, looking over to Kaz.
Kaz owed Alex. He’d helped Kaz get the spot in spring training. He’d opened up the possibility for success, for making the team. And he’d given his word to help his sister.
“Come to the farm next weekend.” Kaz kept his tone calm. “I have equipment there.”
Even as the words left his mouth, Kaz knew he was inviting trouble. He needed to concentrate on his game, concentrate on keeping the farm going. Until his father returned from Japan, he had enough on his plate. And if the feelings Sabrina had roused the previous day continued, she’d be temptation of the worst sort—his friend’s sister and definitely not Japanese. A man didn’t act on sexual impulses with a friend’s sister without honorable intentions. And he wasn’t in any position to offer honorable.
Alex smiled at Sabrina. That sort of smile Kaz was accustomed to. It was a power smile. It had do this or else written all over it.
“You need to heal,” Kaz said in support of Alex. More than just supporting his friend, encouraging a wise choice was the right thing to do. Sabrina wasn’t ready to take on the film project, not physically and not mentally. He’d just have to stuff his wayward impulses and deal. “I can help.”
Sabrina let out a puff of air and looked from her mother to Alex. Jackie was silent, had been since the exchange began.
“I couldn’t come until Tuesday,” Sabrina said.
“That’ll have to do,” Kaz said.
And knew that he’d just made a very big mistake.
Chapter Seven
The flight from SFO had been a breeze, but the traffic from the airport was clogged as it so often was on a Sunday afternoon. Sabrina thanked the concierge at the Hotel Bel-Air and followed the bellhop to her fifth-floor suite.
She tipped the bellhop, kicked off her shoes and ran a hot bath.
She needed to find an apartment in town, a place to call her own during the shoot, but until then, the Bel-Air would have to do.
She emptied a packet of bath salts left for the guest’s use into the swirling water. The scent of lavender wafted through the room as she took off her sling and stripped. Her reflection in the mirror stopped her. Her shoulder was hunched forward, curved in. Kaz’s words about defense and offense filtered into her thoughts. She straightened her spine and made a move to pull her shoulder blade back and down like he’d shown her.
Pain tattooed through her.
She wasn’t in any way ready to tackle the scene blocking and stunts ahead of her. Kaz had intimated as much even if he hadn’t said it outright. But it was her reaction to him that was the most troubling. Needing to work with Derrick hadn’t been the only reason for her hasty departure from Trovare.
Never had a man’s touch been so unsettling, reached so deep into her so fast and without warning. And yet he seemed walled off, brittle in some way she couldn’t get her head around. Like he was protecting a secret or just plain didn’t have feelings at all.
She lay back in the tub and let the hot water soothe her shoulder. With a long sigh she closed her eyes. As her muscles relaxed and she focused her awareness on her body, on the gentle swirling of the jetted water against her skin, she found she couldn’t get Kaz out of her mind. She could still feel the touch of his hands and t
he deep and surprising flood of desire his touch had stirred.
The man was confusing.
One minute he was acting like a defended fortress and the next he was encouraging her to go to his farm. Lots of people felt a loyalty to Alex, so maybe that was what Kaz’s invitation was about. Or maybe now that he’d had a taste of her problem, maybe she’d become some sort of challenge. He seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t know how to back down from a challenge.
Or maybe she was overthinking the whole thing. She’d drive to Valley Cross on Tuesday afternoon and take it from there. What harm could there be in spending a few days on a peach farm and getting into shape?
What harm indeed? Her warning signals were in full-on scream mode. But the messages of danger didn’t make sense. Kaz seemed every inch a gentleman, at least with her. Sure, he had a temper—she’d seen it flare with Derrick. But Derrick had a way of setting people off. It was almost as though some secret part of him made it impossible for him to resist taunting others. Oddly, she felt protective of Derrick, like a person might feel when coming across an animal that had endured more than it could bear.
She toweled off and decided to head over to Derrick’s and surprise him. Take a bottle of wine and her script, maybe some takeout from the Thai place down the street from the hotel. It’d be good to get back to work. At least she’d have a break from thinking about her arm. And maybe Derrick would take her mind off her disturbing thoughts about Kaz.
Once she was dressed, she piled her hair under a baseball cap and donned the clunky sunglasses she’d bought in the airport gift shop. No self-respecting Hollywood actor would be seen in such glasses; at least she hoped they’d help disguise her. Maybe the Bel-Air had been a bad choice if she wanted to go unnoticed, but it was familiar, and familiar helped keep her centered and staying centered helped keep the nightmares in check.
She picked up the takeout that she’d had delivered to the concierge and stepped into the cab the doorman called for her.
When the cab pulled up to Derrick’s house, a sports car was parked across the drive, blocking it. Apparently the driver thought that courtesy could be ignored.
Derrick’s house was one of those Bel Air houses that didn’t quite scream mansion, but it was close. She stepped through the gate and up to the front door. There were lights on in the upstairs windows, so she knew he was home. She shifted the takeout bag to rest against her sling and rang the bell.
When he didn’t answer, she rang again.
“Coming!”
She heard the irritation in his voice.
He opened the door.
“Sabrina. I thought you were a political canvasser.”
“Do they usually bring Thai food?” She held out the bag and the chilled bottle of wine. “You going to invite me in?”
“Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Of course.”
Shuffling on the stairs behind him said he wasn’t alone. One of the stuntmen from Exigent came down the stairs. His usually meticulously coiffed hair was tousled and his clothes rumpled.
“That’s David. You might remember him from the set. We were blocking out some fight scenes.”
She remembered David. He was a talented stuntman with amazing moves. A handsome single man. What woman wouldn’t have noticed him?
“Hello, David. Are you hungry? There’s enough pad Thai for three.”
“Hey, Sabrina.” David didn’t look her in the eye as he picked up a backpack from a table in the foyer. “Thanks for the invite, but I was just leaving.” He glanced at the sling on her arm. “Still bad, huh?”
“A little better. I’m working on it.”
“Try red flower oil. Works for me every time. See you on the set.” He hurried out the door.
“David likes all that esoteric stuff,” Derrick said.
“Everybody has their pet solution, but red flower oil is one I haven’t heard.”
“Personally, I prefer painkillers.”
“Masking a problem doesn’t solve it.” One thing she didn’t like about Derrick was his insistence that his way was the right way.
“Who said anything about solving?” Derrick grinned. “I just like the buzz.”
They ate the Thai food at Derrick’s vast stainless-steel-topped kitchen island. She turned down a second glass of wine. Derrick filled his glass to the top.
She noticed a pile of envelopes stacked at one end of the island. Bills, she guessed. And likely late. Derrick gambled. She’d been with him at a casino when they were shooting on location in Tahoe. If she hadn’t dragged him from the roulette table, he would’ve lost more than the ten thousand dollars he’d already blown.
“I need to hire an assistant,” he said, nodding to the pile of papers and envelopes.
An assistant wasn’t going to solve Derrick’s gambling addiction and keep money in the bank. More than once Sabrina had gently suggested that he might try a twelve-step program for gamblers, but he didn’t see his gambling as a problem and he sure didn’t like the idea of being involved with a group he judged as losers.
She picked up her plate and loaded it into the dishwasher. The appliance was stacked with a week’s worth of dishes. He needed more than an assistant. From the look of the kitchen, he needed a full-time housekeeper.
Derrick came up behind her, put his hands on her waist and pulled her back against him. “Did you bring dessert?”
She’d had doubts about having a sexual relationship with him before she’d left LA. And her unnerving experience with Kaz told her that something in Derrick’s touch wasn’t right. There was no sensual underlay, no subtlety. It was as though Derrick wanted to possess her, to claim her. She wasn’t in any mood to be claimed.
“Let’s go over the second scene,” she said as she slid away from his grasp. “That’s why I flew down here.”
“Work can wait until tomorrow, Sabrina. Nights are for fun.”
He pulled the cap from her head, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders.
“That’s better.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. All she could think about was how Kaz’s touch had been so different. He’d always asked permission before he touched her. And though Kaz’s touch fired her senses, she hadn’t felt the same wariness she felt just then when Derrick brushed his lips across the back of her hand.
She pulled away. “If we’re not going to work, maybe I should go. I could use the rest.”
“I have a better idea,” he said. “Sunday night at the Metreo should shake out some of those cobwebs.”
She didn’t want to think she had cobwebs, and was pretty sure he hadn’t meant to insult her, but she rose to his challenge. After all, finding fun had always been one of her strong suits.
The Metreo was packed with the LA club set. Though Sabrina hadn’t yet turned twenty-three, the pulsing, laughing dancers surrounding them made her feel old. Maybe it was the constant nag of pain. Pain could make anyone feel ancient. She followed Derrick to a table beside the dance floor. She would’ve preferred the private booth they usually reserved, but he’d insisted on a table in the middle of the action.
A scantily clad waiter brought a pitcher of martinis and poured one for each of them. Sabrina twirled the stem of the glass and then shoved it to the center of the table. Surrounded by the pulsing music and bodies, she felt strangely alone.
“I’m going out to the Central Valley on Tuesday,” she said over the din of the music.
“I thought we were rehearsing on Tuesday.”
“I’m going for a few days.” She tilted her head toward her right shoulder. “To solve this problem.”
“We have PT people here,” he said as he poured a second martini. “I have a great trainer. I’ll book him for the afternoon.”
“I’m going out to see Alex’s friend.”
“The Jap?”
“You did not just call him that.”
“That’s what he is.”
She wasn’t going to argue Kaz’s attributes with Derrick. It’d
just bait him. “I think he can help me.”
Derrick narrowed his eyes. “I’ll come with you.”
“That’s okay, you have work here.”
A commotion at the door drew Sabrina’s attention. Four men with cameras slid in. Derrick looked over his shoulder.
“That’s Joe Severs.”
She tensed up.
“It’s okay, he’s a pro. Shoots for Insiders magazine. No monkey business like the jerk who tanked you.”
He waved Joe over to their table.
“Hey, the Hollywood glam couple, just my luck.” Joe slid into a seat next to Derrick. “Mind if I take a shot?”
Derrick slid his chair to hers. Then he grabbed her and planted a kiss. Light flashed.
“Great,” Joe said as he touched his knuckles to Derrick’s.
Sabrina was stunned at Derrick’s performance.
“I’d rather you not use that,” she said in a polite tone.
“Don’t worry, it’s a hot night,” Joe said. “Seems loads of A-listers are out on the town. The editors already have a lot of other juicy shots to choose from.”
A waiter brought a third glass, and Derrick poured Joe a martini.
“I’m going to marry this girl,” Derrick said. Sabrina heard the slurring in his words. Alcohol was not Derrick’s friend.
“Well, that might push you to the cover.” Joe grinned as he gulped down his martini.
“We’re not getting married,” Sabrina bit out. What the hell was Derrick up to?
“Getting married?” One of the hovering photographers snapped a photo.
Sabrina stood. “Excuse me.” She headed toward the ladies’ room and then zigged back to the VIP entrance. She handed the bouncer a twenty and asked him to see her to a cab. Spending her evening with drunken men was not going to help her at all.
The next day Sabrina dodged Derrick’s calls. She didn’t have to buy a copy of the tabloids to know that her face was plastered across them with headlines about their upcoming wedding—Alex had already emailed her the news.
