by Summers, Amy
"The skylight over the living room will open it up even more.”
She nodded. "Like living in a greenhouse," she teased.
He grinned down at her where she was sitting across from him. "I thought you were the nature freak," he said, reaching out to take her hand in his. "Don't you think you'd like living in a greenhouse?"
She avoided his eyes and tried to pull her hand away. "I like my little cottage just fine," she said evenly.
She wouldn't move in with him. She'd decided that long ago. He was a perfect lover right now, but it wouldn't last, especially not when she had to compete with the brighter glitter of his Hollywood life.
Rafe raised his glass, letting the golden liquid take on a rosy glow from the sun setting over the water. When Thawn's glass joined his, a spark seemed to strike at their meeting.
'To our future," he said.
'To our future," she echoed, feeling just a little sad.
The sun began its slow plunge into the silvery sea, and Thawn shivered as the evening breeze sent chills across her skin. She was dressed in a silk blouse and pleated pants and wished she'd remembered to bring a sweater.
Rafe slid beside her and pulled her back into his warm arms. "You know," he said, playing idly with a strand of her hair, "I feel as though my life has changed completely in the last few months."
She turned toward him, searching his face intently, yearning to tell him how much he'd changed her life. But just then Carly's voice came to them across the ridge. "Rafe," she called, "you've got company."
Rafe held Thawn to him for a moment longer, gripping her tightly. "We'll talk later," he promised before letting her go.
They picked up the remains of their dinner and walked back in the gathering gloom of late evening, the lights of the trailer guiding them. Thawn wondered what would happen to the trailer when the house was built. A lot of things might have changed by then.
In the trailer they found a group of four men waiting to see Rafe. Thawn realized immediately that they were "in the business."
"Well, hello everybody," Rafe said, slightly nonplussed. "To what do we owe this unexpected visit?"
The four men stood up, grinning sheepishly. "Since you won't come back down to the studio," one of them said a bit defensively, "we decided to come up here and corner you." He was a short man, balding and nervous, but he seemed to be the spokesman for the group. "Listen, Rafe"—he frowned earnestly—"we've got to get going on this project if we're going to produce die kind of quality product you're known for. We can't hold off any longer."
"He's right," the tall black man standing next to him agreed, speaking with slow dignity. "You've been holed up here in the boondocks for much too long. It's time you got back in the action. We're here to bring that point home to you."
Rafe studied each of them. "You know I've been doing some work up here. I've been laying the groundwork for the next project. Terry, you and I have been on the phone almost every day."
The short man shook his head. "You know that's not enough. You never do anything halfway like this." His glance slid toward Thawn, then away again. "Whatever you're into always takes your full attention. Now we all know you're busy with this house you're building, but the film can't wait forever. Some of the financial backing is starting to erode."
Rafe let out a sudden, warm laugh. "Okay, I'll listen to you." He drew Thawn to his side. "But first I want you all to meet Thawn Carrington." His smile as he looked down at her signaled to them all where she stood in his affections, and she flushed with pleasure even as she dreaded the purpose of their visit. "Thawn, these are a few of the men who make my films into successes. John Hunt here"—he pointed to the short man who had spoken first—"is my effects director. He makes sure we stick to the drawings on the story board as we shoot the scenes. Terry Barnes"—he indicated the tall man who had also spoken—"is the man who collaborates with me in writing the crazy scripts we come up with." He gestured toward the others. "Jules Tharp composes the scores, which would sell even if there were no production attached to them. And Manny Jones is my casting director." He spread out his arms. "Sit down, gentlemen. We'll talk."
As though his invitation were a signal, they all began talking at once. Thawn could plainly see the mutual bond of respect and affection that united them as they worked. She slipped away to the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee and hunt up some sort of snack.
To her surprise, Carly was already there. "Did you let them in?" Thawn asked, pleased to think Carly had gained enough confidence to face strangers.
The young woman hesitated. "Sort of," she said. "When I called to you, I'd seen their car drive up. I left the door open and went to the bedroom before they made it to the trailer, though."
Thawn was tempted to urge her to take around the tray of cheese and crackers she'd prepared, but then she thought better of it. Facing four men at once might be too much to expect of her. Instead she let Carly escape back to her room while she played hostess herself. But just before she stepped around the partition into the small living room, she heard one of the men saying something that stopped her in her tracks.
"The boys in the production group have a running bet, Rafe. We've seen you obsessed with a woman before, but we've never known you to stick with one longer than three months. We expect you back at work on a full schedule by the middle of September."
"I'm not waiting till September," another voice said with a chortle. "I've got my money on next Wednesday at seven a.m."
Thawn turned back to the kitchen, her heart thumping. They were right. There wasn't much time left. Biting her lip, she resolved to make the best of what time there was. Strengthening her determination, she put a smile on her face and entered the living room carrying the coffee pot and mugs.
The conversation had left Rafe's amorous relationships and moved to the business at hand.
"You can't convince me that the Western is dead," Rafe was saying heatedly. "What is the Western, after all? It's a morality play. And they never go out of style." He looked around at the faces before him. "I know Westerns don't draw the crowds like they used to, but that's because they haven't been done right. We're going to make a Western epic." He stood up and began pacing the floor. "Our story will be bigger than life. We'll take a simple human theme and magnify it." He ran a strong hand through his dark hair, making it stand on end.
"Okay," he continued sternly. "Begin with a young, idealistic hero, someone the audience can believe in. Play him off against a cynical older guy who shows him the ropes. Have them come against obstacles that require
heroic deeds…”
Thawn listened intently, watching the men's faces. As Rafe spoke, their expressions were transformed. They nodded eagerly, and their voices rose in excitement. Something was happening that excluded her, yet she sensed the flow of creative energy and shared in the thrill of discovering new ideas. Suddenly without even thinking about it, she found herself voicing her own opinion.
"Characters based on real people confronting real human problems never go out of style," she heard herself saying.
Five male faces turned toward her, yet none showed any surprise. Each man nodded and contributed his own idea. All at once she was an accepted member of the group. She glowed with happiness as she listened to each comment, no longer hesitating to present her views.
It occurred to her that this was a very different sort of show-business gathering from the ones she was used to. This wasn't a group of glamorous people preening and posing, consciously attempting to project a glamorous image. These men were deeply involved in creating new ideas, developing original projects. They represented the heart and soul of the film business.
Thawn remembered what Rafe looked like at the fancy parties they'd both attended. His face had been stiff with boredom. His movements had been slow, his speech slightly slurred. Here he was different. His expression was alive, his words quick and meaningful. He was doing what he loved.
All the men he was working with looked the s
ame way. They weren't driven by an ambition that made them sell their souls. Theirs was an ambition to work harder, think more creatively, struggle more fiercely with an idea. Theirs was an honest labor.
Thawn's skin tingled as though she had made a discovery of major significance. This was good work. Rafe was an honest man. Why hadn't she realized that before?
She'd been so blinded by the hurt she'd suffered because of Mark's crassness that she’d been avoiding to the truth. She could trust Rafe. He wouldn't lie to her. He wouldn't lie to himself.
She refocused her attention on the discussion going on around her.
"You can't do everything yourself," John Hunt was saying. "You'll have to get someone else to take over some of the production work, some bright young guy with a fresh outlook, someone who will benefit from the exposure to your methods."
"How about Mark Lund?" Terry Barnes suggested. "He's one of the best around."
The name had shot through the room like an electric current. Suddenly two pairs of eyes were on Thawn. Rafe watched her closely. And Terry seemed to have suddenly remembered the connection between her and Mark.
The conversation continued, but she didn't hear another word. Terry knew. Would he tell Rafe about the article? Of course he would. Any one of them would use anything they could to discourage Rafe's interest in her.
She should have told him herself, but she was so ashamed of what she'd done. He would never understand. He would see her as a typical groupie who had hung around a star for the glitter that might rub off. He would consider her spilling of all the lurid details to the most sensational branch of the press only the icing on the cake.
She might as well face it. Soon he would know it all.
As unobtrusively as possible, she told Rafe good-bye and left the men still talking, knowing they would continue long into the night.
A great fear had settled in her stomach, as heavy as a stone.
Chapter 10
A feeling of impending doom hung over Thawn the entire next day. Her job assignment was located at the north end of the county, in a town that wanted to rebuild a bridge over a stream in the downtown area. Determining whether the new plans would follow Vista County guidelines and abide by Coastal Commission regulations took her most of the day.
When she arrived home it was well into the evening, though not yet dark. Rafe's car was parked in front of her house, just as she had expected, but he was nowhere to be seen.
She waited at home for a few minutes, changing into a short yellow sundress before heading toward the beach to look for him.
He was sitting on a rock near the shore, watching a group of toddlers making a castle. At her approach he turned and looked up. His eyes revealed no emotion, but he smiled just before she reached him.
Her heart was beating a sharp, painful rhythm against her ribs, and, afraid he would see how her hands were shaking, she hid them as she lowered herself to the sand beside him.
He knew about the article. She was sure of it. What did he think? Although she thought she'd inured herself to it, suddenly she couldn't bear the thought of losing him.
They both sat silently watching the children. She wanted to say something to bring the subject into the open, but the words wouldn't come. It was as though a wall had come between them, and nothing she could do would penetrate it.
"Another long day," he said at last.
She nodded.
"Come on." Abruptly he moved to his feet and reached down to help her up. "Let's take a walk."
She went along with him, letting his hand in the small of her back guide her. She hardly noticed that he had turned their steps in through the meadow rather than out along the sandy shore. Her thoughts were filled with dread.
"What's that?"
Thawn looked up with a start as he stopped her with his hand and gestured ahead. She looked to where he was pointing and smiled. "That's none other than the great blue heron. Isn't he beautiful?"
The bird was at least four feet tall, with a long, curved neck and a sharp beak. Wading in a marshy area near the trees, it was totally unconcerned by their approach.
"Are they tame?" Rafe asked incredulously.
"Oh, no. In fact, if he decides to acknowledge our presence, you'll hear the most blood curdling squawking you can imagine. "She glanced about them. "Let's detour around this way."
It was a relief to be able to talk about something so innocuous. "This is one of their major nesting areas," she babbled on nervously as they made their way through short grass and tiny yellow flowers. "There's a protected rookery down in Morro Beach. They fly in during early winter and make their nests in the tops of eucalyptus trees."
They were walking among the trees now, and Thawn pulled her arms around herself as the cooler air penetrated her clothes. She glanced at Rafe and found his face pensive. She was sure he wasn't listening to her ramblings.
Finally she couldn't stand the tension. "Rafe," she said bravely, placing her hand on his arm. The warmth of his flesh beneath the crisp cotton cloth made her fingers tingle, and she wished suddenly that she could feel that warmth against her whole body. If he held her, maybe it would all go away.
“Oh please,” she thought, almost like a prayer. “Just hold me.”
But he didn’t. Instead, he stopped and turned to look at her without touching.
"Rafe, where are we going?" she asked.
They stood facing one another. He looked down into her eyes, studying her face with sharp intelligence for a long, nerve-wracking moment. .
"Tell me about Mark," he said softly. 'Tell me what you two had together. Tell me why you did what you did. Make me understand."
Thawn felt as though all the blood had drained from her in one chilling wave. Swaying slightly, she clutched at his arm to save herself from falling. But he didn't take hold of her. He was waiting for her answer.
She licked her dry lips. "Terry told you, didn't he?"
He nodded.
"I…I should have told you myself."
He nodded again.
"I... the article was a mistake. I should never have let that happen. I was stupid and…”
His hands gripped her tightly, as though he were about to shake her. "How could it be a mistake?" he charged with barely leashed anger. "You gave the interview, didn't you? You told Jacqui Blatts all those things, didn't you?"
She gazed up at him with wide eyes. How could she possibly explain?
"Please, Thawn," he implored her. "Please tell me why you did it. I want so desperately to hear your side, to be able to understand, to forgive."
She took a deep breath. "Mark—Mark did something that hurt me terribly, and I knew that what we had had was over. When Jacqui came to my house to offer her sympathy... I just let it all out."
His eyes had hardened to silver steel. "Then it's true," he said flatly.
'True that I told Jacqui those things?" she said evenly. "Yes, it's true."
His eyes narrowed. "Terry says the rumor around L.A. is that you got a nice bundle of money for it."
She shook her head. "You know Jacqui doesn't pay for information," she said woodenly.
Rafe nodded slowly. "The rumor is that you were paid off by someone who was out to get Mark, someone who wanted to take him out of the competition. You complied happily because Mark had jilted you and you wanted to get back at him." His voice had sharpened. "Is that true, Thawn?"
She stared at him aghast. Was it true she'd wanted to get back at him? Probably. Was it true she'd taken money from someone who was competing with Mark for film jobs? How could he think such a thing of her?
"Is that what you believe?" she asked with disbelief.
He released his hold on her. "I don't know what to believe. You won't tell me your side of it. How can I trust you if you won't tell me everything?"
She looked down at the soggy ground beneath their feet, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. "What do you want? What can I tell you?"
He reached toward her, then droppe
d his hand. "Were you and Mark in love?"
"I told you that before. We were planning to get married."
"Why didn't you?"
"I already told you.” She felt as though her insides were twisted with pain. “He did some things... like sleeping with Glenda Sayers... and the other items Jacqui wrote about. I realized he lived by a different set of standards than I did. I couldn't accept his ethics."
He frowned. "What could he have done that was any worse than what you did?" he demanded icily.
"I didn't do anything on purpose," she protested. "I didn't take money. I just fell into a trap."
"I'd like to believe that," he said stonily.
Did that mean he didn't believe her? She shrugged. "It's all over now," she said, her voice shaky. "Why can't we just forget it?"
"Forget it?" He was angry now. "Forget it?" he repeated. His hard hand grasped her arm again. "If you can't explain your actions any better than that, I want to hear you swear that you won't do the same to me."
She stared at him, completely bewildered. How could she do the same to him? There was no scandal surrounding Rafe. What did he think she was up to?
He brought his face close to hers, glaring into her eyes. "Promise me you'll never give interviews about me or Carly," he said harshly. "Especially about Carly."
She shook her head. "Carly... ?"
"You know that's why I brought her up here. There are reporters all over who would kill for a story about her. 'Rafe Armstrong forbids his sister to see her boyfriend again. She elopes. Boyfriend is killed in crash as they drive from confrontation with Armstrong. Sister is scarred for life.' Juicy stuff for the tabloids." His eyes burned into hers. "Think you could get a good price for that, Thawn?"
Indignation sparked her anger. "What I did to Mark was inadvertent—it was pure stupidity. I would never do anything like that to you and you know it."
He let go of her and half turned away. "I've been hounded by leeches since I started in this business," he told her coolly. "Every time you turn around, there's someone else trying to take a piece of you, trying to pick you apart for their own gain." His flashing eyes raked over her. "But I never suspected you were one of them." He turned abruptly and walked away.
