Force of Nature

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Yeesh. He gave her the creeps. For the first time all evening, she was glad Ric was standing so close.

  But then he squeezed her slightly, and she turned to see that he had his phone in his hand. “I’ve got to take this call,” he told her. “I’m going to step outside. Stay close to Jules.”

  She nodded. “Come right back in.” He wasn’t the only one who could give orders.

  He sighed, because he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I meant to say please.”

  “I didn’t,” she told him. “I don’t need to.” She discreetly flexed the muscles in her right arm. “I don’t need no stinkin’ polite words to get my way.”

  Ric actually smiled, and possibly even laughed, although it was more of a heavily exhaled eye roll. Still, it was a potential start in the dial-down-the-hostility plan.

  But wow, he’d really pissed her off before—although to be honest, the you’re a woman, you should be protected thing wasn’t exactly news. She’d seen it in action plenty of times back when they were growing up. He was always swooping in to save her. And calling him a misogynist wasn’t very accurate. He didn’t hate women, he loved them. He just needed to work on respecting them—her—as an equal.

  And as long as she was being honest here, part of her pissiness came from her annoyance with her own stupid self. When he’d helped her tighten the lacing of her dress, his hands warm against her shoulders and back, she’d found herself feeling things and wanting things that only a certifiably insane person should have been feeling and wanting.

  Like for him to push aside her hair and kiss her on the neck. And then help her out of the dress.

  As Ric went back out the door, phone to his ear, Annie leaned in closer to Jules, who had just finished a conversation with one of the film festival’s organizers. “I’m sorry about before,” she told him quietly. “I’ll try to remember to act more like a grown-up.”

  “Don’t worry about it. But for the record,” Jules said as the waiter delivered her ginger ale and whatever he’d ordered to drink. Annie took Ric’s beer, too. “I happen to look great in a loincloth.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” a familiar voice said.

  And so much for her celebrity search. While she’d been eyeballing the other half of the room, the one and only Robin Chadwick had been standing mere feet away, an extremely pretty woman on his arm.

  Jules had his back to the movie star, and for one brief instant, he looked at Annie with an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite read. It looked a little like murderous rage mixed with hysterical amusement and a solid dash of sheer panic. And she wasn’t quite sure, due to the noise of all the partygoers talking and laughing, but she was pretty certain Jules muttered, “Fuck.”

  But then there was only People magazine’s future Sexiest Man in America, holding out his hand to her, as he gave her that trademark Chadwick grin. “Hi, I’m Robin.”

  Yes, he was. Annie put Ric’s beer down on a nearby table, and took Robin’s hand.

  It was big and warm, and although he wasn’t quite as tall as he looked in the movies, he was still taller than she was in her heels.

  “I’ve been trying to get this guy around to the front of the camera for years,” he told her, gesturing toward…Jules? The FBI agent was now smiling in what could only be described as pleasant desperation. “So what’s your gig? Are you a casting director trying to recruit him for a Tarzan picture, or maybe something with cavemen…?”

  “Oh,” she said, flustered. “No. I’m not…You actually know Jules, I mean—” God, the FBI agent was using a different name for this undercover operation, and now she’d gone and blown it.

  But Jules saved her, reaching out to shake the hand of the midget supermodel clinging to Robin’s arm. “Julian Young,” he introduced himself, shooting Annie a reassuring smile. “My friends call me Jules.”

  “Dolphina Patel,” Robin’s girlfriend told him.

  “Dolphina,” Jules repeated, with a look at Robin. “Interesting name.”

  “My father’s a marine biologist,” she explained, “and my mother’s crazy, so…” Her laughter was musical and perfect, just like the rest of her.

  “This is Annie,” Jules introduced her.

  “Annie, would you do me a favor?” Robin asked. “Dolphina was looking for the ladies’ room. Would you mind helping her find it?”

  And risk Ric’s wrath when he came back inside to discover that she’d unglued herself from Jules’s side? Not a chance. Still, Annie had spotted the facilities right by the maître d’s desk when they’d first come inside. “It’s over this way.”

  She took a couple of steps in that direction, pointing it out to the other woman, who leaned close to ask, “Do I have something in my teeth?” But she didn’t wait for Annie to answer. She just scurried off.

  “I told you—” Annie heard Jules say to Robin.

  “To stay away from you.” The movie star finished for him. “Yeah, I thought about that and…Sorry, I’m not gonna.”

  Jules lowered his voice even more. “You really don’t want to mess with me.”

  “Yeah, actually, I really do, and oops, look, here’s Annie, back so soon? Are you from Sarasota, Annie?” Robin asked her, his smile easygoing and relaxed, as if he hadn’t been having an intense, cryptic conversation with an undercover FBI agent mere seconds ago. “It’s a beautiful area.”

  “Yeah, I’ve just moved back,” she told him, glancing at Jules, who’d gone absolutely expressionless. Totally blank. “I’m originally from Massachusetts, but we came down here—my mother, my brother and I—when I was eleven.” As if he really cared.

  “Parents got divorced?” Robin asked, with a wince.

  Annie nodded. His charisma was off the charts. He probably got babbled at constantly by people who didn’t know what to say to a movie star and he’d learned to deal with it graciously. His full attention—with focused eye contact and active listening—could make everyone else in the entire room fade into nothingness.

  Everyone except, of course, Ric, whose unhappiness radiated from him in waves strong enough to penetrate even her deepest fog. Annie spotted him immediately, over Robin’s shoulder, as he came back inside.

  “That must’ve sucked,” Robin was saying. “Believe me, I can relate. My folks split up before I could walk. Although living near these beaches as a kid? That had to rock.”

  “Good, here’s Ric,” Jules said briskly. “Robin, Ric, Ric, Robin. Ric, why don’t you and Annie get yourselves something to eat while Robin and I briefly step outside?”

  Ric shook Robin’s hand without any reaction whatsoever. He didn’t even say “Nice to meet you.” Instead, he spoke to Jules. “I’m going to need to talk to you, too. As soon as possible.”

  Whatever that phone call had been about, it hadn’t been good.

  Annie could see that Jules, too, realized that something was up, but he didn’t get a chance to ask before Robin said, “Hey now, here comes somebody I want you all to meet. The host of this party, in fact. Mr. Burns, say hello to my good friends.”

  And just like that, the game was in play.

  “We’ve had the pleasure. Miss Jones.” Gordon Burns took Annie’s hand first, smiling up at her. He was shorter than she remembered, but then again, she was wearing the Heels of Death tonight. She towered over Jules, too.

  She dug deep and found a smile that she hoped was both gracious and warm. “How are you, sir? You remember Ric Alvarado, my…significant other.” Wow, that really sounded stupid. What was wrong with her, that she couldn’t utter the word boyfriend?

  But Burns didn’t seem to care. “Of course I remember Ric. I didn’t expect to see either of you here.” He shook Ric’s hand, too.

  “And this is Julian Young.” Annie got his name right this time, thank God. “Mr. Young is Ric’s business associate. He’s also a movie producer—he invited us here tonight to celebrate the release of one of his films.”

  “Oh, really?” The interest in Burns’s voice
was genuine. “Which film is yours, Mr. Young?”

  “Believe it or not”—Robin spoke for him—“Julian’s a financial backer for Riptide. He’s uncredited—it was really just an investment deal, based on my recommendation.” He turned to Jules, and smiled. “Good call, huh? They’re predicting the movie’s gonna open huge. Hey, you know Gordon’s a backer, too. Small world, right? You’re business partners, and you didn’t even know it.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Jules lied seemingly effortlessly to Burns, shaking his hand. “Gefilte Fish out of Water is mine, too. It’s a documentary short about the Jewish community in Dublin, Ireland. And okay, to be honest, it’s not really mine, it’s Westland’s—the production company I work with. But it’s a fun little film.”

  “I’ll make a point to check it out,” Burns said. “Westland Productions, you said?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The FBI had set up an intricate cover for Jules. Aside from creating a producer’s page for Jules on imbd.com, they’d also gotten him included on Westland’s massive website. They’d gone so far as to create individual websites for Jules’s fictitious direct-to-video movies. They’d even provided links to fabricated reviews. When Burns checked him out—and he would—he’d be convinced of Julian Young’s status as an up-and-coming Hollywood player.

  “Julian and I go way back,” Robin told Burns. “In fact, he’s the reason I can’t attend your dinner party tomorrow night.”

  “You were invited to—” Jules cut himself off, giving Robin a disbelieving look that instantly morphed into a smile. “Yes, that’s right. We, uh, have plans, don’t we?”

  “J and I are meeting to discuss future projects,” Robin told Burns. “There’s one that’s really intriguing—there’s this FBI agent, and he’s gay, right? It’s Brokeback meets the Untouchables. I’m telling you it’s got Oscar all over it.”

  “I’ve been hearing Oscar talk about Riptide,” Burns pointed out.

  “Fingers crossed,” Robin said. He turned to Jules. “You know, you should set up a meeting with Gordon—get him involved.” He turned back to Burns. “Why don’t you come to our—oh, but you can’t. You’ve got that party. Duh. Brain fade. Sorry. I’m telling you, I’m lucky I know what city I’m in.”

  “Why don’t you just come to my party,” Burns suggested. “All of you. It would be my pleasure.” He looked at Ric and Annie. “You know how to get to the Point. Tomorrow night, seven sharp.”

  Robin hesitated. “Well, I guess that could work. Maybe if J and I could reschedule our meeting…” He looked at Jules. “Maybe for later tonight?”

  Burns, too, looked expectantly at Jules, who missed only a half a beat.

  “Sure,” Jules said. “That’s…fine.”

  “I’ll see you all tomorrow, then,” Burns said. “Right now I need to mingle.” He gave Annie one last lizard smile. “You really do look lovely, dear.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and he was gone.

  “What just happened here?” Ric asked. He looked at Robin. “You’re Robin Chadwick.”

  He was just realizing this now? He looked almost shell-shocked, Annie realized. “Are you all right?” she asked him, but he didn’t respond.

  “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Robin’s full attention was on Jules.

  “Yeah.” Jules laughed, shaking his head. “Damn, you’re good.”

  “Yes, I am,” Robin said.

  As they gazed at each other, Annie felt that same odd intensity she’d intruded upon earlier. But this time it was Robin’s date—Dolphina—who interrupted them. She came slinking back from the ladies’ room. “I’m sorry, but Robin really needs to circulate.”

  Ric turned to Annie. “Robin Chadwick got us invited to Burns Point. Tomorrow night,” he said as if their entire conversation with Burns had been in Chinese and he needed confirmation.

  “Yes,” she told him. “What’s going on? What was that phone call?”

  “My father,” he said. “He had a heart attack.”

  “Oh my God.” Jules, of course, overheard, as did Robin and Dolphina. “Is he all right? How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Ric admitted. “I have to get over to Doctors’ Hospital. Will you stay with Annie until Martell gets here?”

  “I’m going with you,” Annie insisted.

  “The valet’s going crazy—it’s going to take forever to get your car.” Robin stepped in. “My limo’s out front. Take it.” He turned to Dolphina. “Go clear that with Sean.” She vanished, and he turned back to Ric. “He’s the driver. Just tell him where you need to go and he’ll get you there.”

  “Give me your car keys, and valet tag,” Jules ordered Ric. “I’ll bring your car over to the hospital for you.” He spoke directly to Annie. “Give me a call when you arrive, okay?”

  She nodded, and they ran for Robin’s limo.

  “You all right?” Robin asked.

  He and Jules were finally alone. Okay, not alone alone. The party was still swirling around them. But Annie, thank God, was gone. She was, no doubt, one of Jules’s fellow FBI agents despite the fact that she seemed impossibly young. But she clearly knew Jules, and therefore knew that he was gay. She also now knew a thing or two about Robin—that was obvious from the dawning realization in her wide gray eyes as she’d looked from him to Jules and back again.

  Whatever it was that she’d seen, he should’ve been able to hide it. He was a better actor than that, wasn’t he?

  Apparently not when it came to Jules.

  “I’m fine,” Jules said now, but he was obviously lying. Robin knew that Jules’s father had died during heart surgery, not long after suffering a massive coronary. This situation had to bring back a lot of unpleasant memories.

  “You were fourteen, right?” Robin pulled him over to an empty table in the corner. “When your father died?”

  But Jules didn’t take a seat. He did a quick scan of the room and lowered his voice. “Why are you doing this? I told you it was dangerous.”

  Robin snagged a couple of drinks from a passing tray. Jules, of course, declined the one he’d grabbed for him, so Robin put it down on the table. “I thought I made that obvious.”

  “You want me?” Jules asked, his voice low. “Come on, then. Let’s go. Let’s do it. I’ll go to your room with you right now. Right now. God knows I’ve wanted you from the moment you first smiled at me.”

  Robin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And then he could because Jules wasn’t done.

  “All you have to do,” Jules told him, with that heat in his eyes that promised pure heaven, “is kiss me. Right here. Kiss me and take my hand and I will go anywhere with you.”

  Robin had to look away. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “No,” Jules said. “I know you won’t do it. Frankly, I’m not sure I would’ve asked if I’d thought you could. Yeah, I want you. But I also want to have steak and french fries every night. Doughnuts every morning for breakfast. Heart disease runs in my family—I’d be insane to eat that crap.”

  “My agent’s negotiating a new contract,” Robin tried to explain. “I’m about to make more money than I ever dreamed—”

  “That’s one of the ways we’re different,” Jules told him. “When you dream, you dream about money.”

  Well, yowch.

  “Here comes your girlfriend,” Jules said. “I gotta go, see if I can’t help Ric.”

  “We’re going to have to talk before tomorrow night,” Robin pointed out. “If I’m going to help you…”

  “Thank you for what you’ve done,” Jules said, all cold FBI professional. “But your help? It ends here. Make up an excuse and go back to L.A., ASAP. I’m serious, Robin. I need you gone.”

  Jules headed for the door as if their conversation was over, nodding to Dolphina as he went past her.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Robin called after him, and Jules stopped and turned.

  And in that split second, when their eyes met and th
e very air seemed to crackle around them, Robin almost did it. Three long strides would bring him to Jules’s side. He could picture the disbelief in his eyes—disbelief that would turn to wonder and then heat as Robin drew him into his arms and kissed him as ardently as he’d kissed his co-star, Susie McCoy, at the end of Riptide.

  But there was no disbelief in Jules’s eyes right now—only solid certainty that Robin’s feet were glued to the floor.

  And sure enough, the moment passed, and Robin realized that his raised voice had caught the attention of a number of the partygoers, who watched him now with unabashed curiosity.

  “Except up,” he tacked on to his I’m not going anywhere, adding a little extra het to the whole exchange with a “Later, dude.”

  No way could he throw away everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. Still, his stomach hurt as, shaking his head, Jules turned and walked away.

  “You need to mingle.” Dolphina startled him. She was right at his elbow, and he nearly spilled his drink.

  “I know.” He tossed it back, finishing it. “Just give me a fucking minute.”

  He’d spoken much too sharply, but she didn’t flinch or even back away. In fact, she put her arms around him and hugged him. And then surprised him even further. “Was that him?”

  Was that…what? “Excuse me?”

  She pulled her face from the front of his tux jacket and said it again, still quietly, but unmuffled this time. “Was that him?”

  Robin looked down into Dolphina’s brown eyes. They were pretty—warm and lively—but not even half as captivating as Jules’s.

  “You don’t remember anything you told me last night, do you?” she asked, making a face at him.

  Uh-oh. “I remember…behaving inappropriately.” He chose his words carefully. “And I guess…I must’ve given you my key at some point.”

  “You gave me your key so I could check on you. You spent the night throwing up,” Dolphina told him. “And crying.”

  “Oh, good,” he said. “I was afraid I’d simply screwed you and passed out.”