by Milly Taiden
Enough, I wasn’t going to analyze it anymore. I was just going to ignore this thing between us.
“Fine,” I said, one hand on my camera to still it from swinging. “But you don’t have to hold my hand. I’m not a child.”
A flash of something akin to fear flickered across his face, darted through his eyes. “I know that. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” His voice was sincere, his eyes soft with a tenderness that made the gold flecks deepen in color, even in this shadowed light. He ran his thumb over my hand, his eyes finding mine, the intensity in them making me catch my breath. “Let me make sure you’re safe.”
My heart clenched and my throat tightened, feeling the undercurrent of emotions rolling between us. I couldn’t identify them, didn’t know what was going on, but trusted, strangely, that he was telling the truth. Trusting Jet was a bad idea, my brain seemed certain of it. He would hurt me; he would get hurt himself. Something bad would happen.
Jet gave my hand a squeeze and the moment passed, his eyes once more full of devilry. “I might even have to carry you at some point. Say, if you get weak in the knees, which is all too possible with you being this close to me. You wouldn’t be the first girl—”
“It would surprise me if I was,” I quipped, slipping my hand from his. Bringing the camera up again, I snapped a few more shots of him while he gaped at me.
“You are trouble, Jasmin Vargas,” he said, pointing a finger at me.
“And you aren’t used to women turning you down. Or making you behave,” I said, my finger clicking the camera off once more, holding the button just so in order to make it behave. If I didn’t, the thing would be sure to act up. That was just one more worry to add to my list—old camera breakdowns.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he laughed, bumping his shoulder into mine, putting me off balance.
He grabbed my arms, his hands massaging them lightly. “Easy there, you sure you didn’t have anything to drink?”
Laughing, I pushed his hands off me. “Enough. You said you’d behave!”
Still smiling to myself, I picked up my pace and headed toward my hotel. Jet moved to my side, though he didn’t try to take my hand again, nor did he try anything else. I was both happy and disappointed. Which was stupid. I know.
At the front stoop of my hotel, the awning sagging under the weight of years blocking the sun, I gave Jet a nod.
“Thanks for walking me home. I appreciate it.”
“I’ll be here in the morning, to escort you back to the set,” he smiled. “Just in case there are any early morning banditos around.”
I bit the inside of my lip. “Goodnight, Jethro. Again.”
He cringed, and that darkness that had flickered over his face earlier was back. “Please, don’t call me that.” His eyes sought mine, a haunting echo of pain in them. “Please.”
My breath caught at what I saw in those gold-flecked depths, at the hurt and the complete and total honesty. “Yeah, sure.”
He nodded, gave me a weak smile and turned away, calling lightly over his shoulder.
“Goodnight, Spitfire.”
Jet
I sat in my hotel room, on the edge of my bed, buck naked and still too hot to sleep. The breeze blew in through the sliding glass door that led out onto the questionably safe balcony, but the night air did nothing to cool my skin.
Blame it on the heat or blame it on the small room and heavy blankets.
It wasn’t the nightmare, the memories I relived in my sleep. No, that was not why sweat slid down my spine, trickled down my chest and off my arms. I stood, walked to the open door and looked out. The gulf was visible and the breeze off the ocean was good, headed straight in my direction.
Wide awake now, I let out a slow breath, bowed my chin to my chest and rubbed the back of my neck. Scars and secrets; I couldn’t escape either one.
Think about something else. Anything else.
“Jasmin.” I whispered her name. The scent of her lingered with me, a mixture of floral and earthy scents that had buried themselves in my brain. I thought back to the feeling of her hand in mine. Her small fingers, curling up around my own, skin so soft—how many girls had I touched in my lifetime? I'd done far more than just held their hands and felt . . . nothing. Yet a simple touch and I’d immediately wanted more. Placing one hand on the edge of the doorway, I continued to stare out at the ocean as I thought about Jasmin, wondered if she was asleep now, or maybe she was awake like I was. Better yet, maybe she was thinking about me. I grinned, and then thought about that sweet Spitfire lying in bed, thinking about me, touching herself.
I let out a groan of torment as images assaulted me, like a movie I couldn’t, didn’t want to stop. Her hair would be spread out on a pillow, and she’d whisper my name as her fingers circled her moist wet center. Her other hand would find a nipple begging for attention, tugging on it lightly, she’d moan, her fingers speeding up as she stroked herself, faster, more frantic now. Her green eyes would dilate with lust, her body arching into her hand as the orgasm started to spin her out of control.
“Fuck,” I whispered, feeling out of control myself, my hand moving in a rhythm that wouldn’t take me long imagining her delicious tight—
The knock on the door snapped me out of my fantasy. “Who is it?” I barked, walking stiffly to the edge of the bed, scooping up my shorts and sliding them on though they were tented to the extreme.
“It’s Hugh.”
Grumbling, I stomped over to the door and snapped it open, glaring. “What now?”
Hugh smiled at me. “Got a girl in there to go with that raging hard on?”
I glared at him, frustration mounting. “No. Thanks for asking. What the hell do you want in the middle of the god damn night? Surely not a booty call?”
Hugh batted his eyes and softened his voice into a high-pitched lisping falsetto. “For you maybe . . . stud muffin.”
He snapped a fist out and punched my shoulder. “Duty calls. Rodney decided at the last minute to do your scene at night. Thinks it’ll look better with the explosion.”
I banged my head into the door frame. “Seriously?”
“Hey, it’s not like you’re leaving an unlucky lady behind.”
I took a swing at him that he dodged easily, again laughing at me. “Come on, man. Get your clothes on and cover your raging dick. Nobody wants to see that. Well, maybe Elise does.”
With a flick of my wrist, I slammed the door in his face, smothering his continued laughter.
“Stupid Rodney Asher and his stupid ideas.” I turned on the overhead light and yanked on my clothes one piece at a time, every brush against my erection bringing it hard and ready with the merest hint of attention. Yeah, this was going to go just fucking dandy.
Grumbling all the way to the movie set, I thought about Jasmin as I walked. I’d promised her I wouldn’t seduce her, and if her job was on the line then it was a valid point. But how the hell was I going to be around her when the mere thought of her made me literally want to take matters into my own hands?
And while I thought I’d seen desire in her eyes, she’d made it clear she didn’t want me. Who could blame her really? A smart girl like that, what the hell would she want with a stuntman? What did I have to offer a girl like her anyway? If she wasn’t trying to make it on the big screen, there was nothing I could give. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I could protect her—after all, I hadn’t even been able to protect myself and Jasper. And I couldn’t even offer her the things a girl like her deserved; my time was barely my own the way I flew from set to set. What kind of life was that?
Nothing. Which was better anyway.
Right.
With my mood souring, my libido disappeared. Jasmin didn’t want me no matter how badly I wanted to see and feel her sweat soaked skin beneath me.
This was going to be a bitching tough week.
* * * * *
Rodney kept us shooting until well past sun up, no matter that we’d pointed out
it was no longer dark, hence the excuse that he wanted the explosion more visible against the night sky was a moot point. He waved us off.
I leaned back in the folding chair I’d plunked myself into, sunglasses on, ball cap twisted backwards as I tried to snag a few zzz’s.
A kid approached me, pimple-faced and wearing big thick horn-rimmed glasses. He held a camera up. “Mind if I take a few shots? It’s for my school newspaper.”
“Knock yourself out,” I said. The whir and click of the camera brought me upright, reminding me of a promise I’d made. I scrambled for my cell phone. 9:55.
“Shit.” I stood and waved at Hugh. “Be right back!”
Sprinting off the set and down the street, I dodged people and cars alike. I said I’d be there to escort her at ten, damn it. Breathing hard, I pushed myself faster, no longer tired from the long night of shooting. Across the street from Jasmin’s hotel I paused to catch my breath, hands on my knees. She was standing out front . . . waiting for me?
A smile crept over my lips as the wind caught the edge of her pale yellow sundress, swirling it around her lean thighs. She was wearing shades, flip flops, but no hat, and her camera was clutched in her hand, the strap wrapped around her wrist.
I drank her in, the sight of her giving me a not unpleasant shiver that ran the length of my body.
Checking the street, I crossed, catching her attention about halfway to her. She saw me and her face lit up, like . . . I meant something to her. My feet stopped where they were and I bathed in her smile, feeling it curve around me, warmer than the sun on my skin. God, how long had it been since a woman actually cared about me, didn’t want to use me for their own ends?
Fuck, what the hell was wrong with me? She was a photographer; she needed me to get her job done. This was a bad idea.
The blare of a truck’s horn snapped me out of my whatever-the-hell-I was-feeling and I dodged the pissed off driver with about half an inch to spare. I jogged the rest of the way across. Jasmin was pale when I reached her, almost green there was so little color in her face.
“Hey, you okay?”
“He almost hit you.” She clutched her camera, knuckles white.
“Yeah, but almost doesn’t count,” I answered, offering her my hand. She shook her head.
I fought the disappointment that coursed through me. You knew this going in today. She’s not for you. Not this girl. Get the fuck over it.
Jasmin walked beside me. “Are you feeling all right?”
I blinked, brought out of my thoughts. “Yeah, why?”
“You’re all sweaty. Like you’ve been running,” she said, arching an eyebrow at me. “Did you forget about me and have to run all the way?”
I splayed a hand against my chest and opened my eyes, wide and innocent like. “Me? Jet Sterling forget something as important as you? Never. I was . . .” Crap, what was I doing then?
Her eyebrows seemed to arch even higher. “You were . . . .”
Think fast man. “A bee.”
“A bee?”
“Yes, there was this bee, actually, a whole hive of them. You know, the killer bees? Well, I stumbled across a nest—”
“Here? At your movie set?” Her lips seemed to be quivering, and suddenly I felt the absolute need to make her smile. To hear her laugh again. Even at the expense of my own pride and ego.
“Well, no, not at the movie set. On the way to get you, this huge hive of bees attacked an old Mexican woman. She looked like a ninja swatting at them left,” I jabbed with my left, “right,” I crouched and threw an uppercut into the air.
Laughter spilled out of her. “And you had to help her?”
“Carried her on my back, all the way to her home, with the bees chasing us, of course. She gave me a tortilla in thanks.” I smiled, pleased with myself.
Jasmin chuckled. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
“Actually, you’re the first person who’s ever said that. Ever.” God, how I wanted to grab her, pull her into my arms and kiss her until . . . until what? What was this damn fascination I had with the green-eyed beauty? There were more women out there than I could count, and any one of them would be happy to spend a night or two in my bed. But this one, I wanted her and she didn’t want me. Was that the draw? Had it been so long since I’d actually been denied that it was turning me on?
“I was thinking, if you don’t mind, we could do some pictures down at the beach,” she said, pointing to the path that would take us to the closest public beach. “If you’re okay with stripping down to your swim trunks, and maybe getting your jeans wet.”
“I’ll strip down to less than that for you,” I said, enjoying the blush that spread across her cheeks. Stilling the urge to trace the blush with my fingers, I gave her a wide grin. “But only if you want.”
She held up her hands. “I think we can pass on the full striptease. Save it for someone else, someone who wants it.”
Ouch. I must have made a face because she touched me on the arm, her eyes crinkling up with concern. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, there have got to be lots of girls who would want you to strip for them.” Her eyes widened, the color increasing in her cheeks “I mean . . .”
Oh God, I was enjoying this. I just stared at her, let her dig the hole deeper. “You probably look great no matter what . . .” She finally gave up, and just when it was about to get interesting. Damn.
She cleared her throat, then pointed at the set as we passed by. “Do you need to get your swim trunks, or let them know that you’re going to be a while?” Her words were rushed, as if that would hide her previous stuttering mess. Which I found charming. Charming?
“Jazzy, you know you are incredibly cute when you’re flustered,” I said, regretting the words even as I said them. How many times was I going to have to remind myself that she wasn’t for me? Damn it.
But she smiled, and then tears came to her eyes, confusing the hell out of me.
“Thanks.” Her pace picked up and I was left standing there, staring at the swaying back end of her again. I was more confused than ever. She called over her shoulder. “I’ll be setting up on the beach, you come when you’re ready.”
What had happened there? Why had she looked ready to cry? Crap, I did not need another emotionally unstable woman chasing me around. No more playing. Jasmin was off limits.
I jogged onto the set, checked in with Rodney, nodded at the pimple-faced teenager who held up his camera. “Catch me later, kid. I’ve got a date with a pretty lady.”
He frowned as I snatched a pair of swim trunks from the costume gals who tittered over my choice.
“Don’t you want to take the Speedo?”
Laughing, feeling the weight of the mask I had to wear even for them, I wagged a finger. “Nah, if I want to show that much skin I might as well just go in the buff. If I do, I’ll send someone to fetch you all, so you can watch.”
Leaving the giggling women behind, assured that my charm did work on some portion of the female population at least, I made my way to the beach. Standing on the edge where the brilliant white sand met the concrete path, I searched for my Spitfire. The thought rolled around in my head and it took me a moment to clue in to the words.
My Spitfire. Damn, I had to stop thinking about her. Period, end of story. No Jasmin for Jet.
Shit, maybe I was sick or something. Maybe I’d picked up a bug, eaten something off. The water, maybe that was it, I had been drinking the water, didn’t everyone say not to drink the water in Mexico? Yeah, that had to be it.
The wind blew straight off the ocean, bringing me a wash of salty air, hot sand and coconut sunscreen. But I couldn’t see Jasmin anywhere. Stepping off the path, I headed straight for the water, then stood with my head leaned back and considered shouting for her. A pale flash of yellow caught my eye at the far end of the beach.
There she was, squatting low, camera up as she took pictures of the local kids playing in the surf. They dodged and darted in front of her and she fol
lowed them, the camera a part of her.
Walking slowly, the sand pulling at my feet, I wove between the few blankets and towels on the beach until I stood a few feet behind her. She was laughing, her voice pairing with the kids squeals and swiftly chattered Spanish. Like music, it mesmerized me, and I stood there for a long time, just watching her, feeling like I was privy to something special.
To someone special.
I closed my eyes. Good God, I must have picked up something for me to be waxing poetic about a girl I barely knew, had only just met.
“Jet?”
My eyes flew open and I smiled without thinking. “Waiting on you, Spitfire. You done playing?”
A soft smile curved one side of her full lips and my mind wandered once more into dangerous territory.
There was only one thing to do. With a rush, I scooped her up onto my shoulder and gave her a spin, much to the delighted kids who were now screaming encouragement.
“What are you doing, are you crazy?” she said, grasping my shoulders.
“That’s what the doctor says.”
She punched my arm, not hard, but I fell to the ground, pulling her on top of me, then I held up my hands. “Oh, God, I think you bruised me.” I looked up at her with one eye. “Kiss it better?”
Her response was to pull the camera out and start taking pictures, effectively blocking my attempt at charming her. Which was for the best anyway. She was right to push me away; something about her was too much, too intense. Not right for me. Though the flicker of desire in those green depths teased at me, and the feeling of her body quivering against mine in that split second before she scrambled away was almost enough to change my mind.
She was most definitely too good for me, without a doubt. I could acknowledge that, but with every moment I spent with her I became more and more convinced she wasn’t as immune to my charms as I’d thought. But that’s all it was, flirting, my usual, nothing more. This was fun, light.
Harmless.
I smiled, giving her a wink and the color rose up on her cheeks. Nope, there was no turning back, no way I’d quit flirting with her now, if nothing more than to see her squirm.
