by Darcy Burke
“Mmm?” She turned toward him and snuggled up to his chest, pressing her palm against his soft cotton T-shirt and wondering why they’d both gone to bed with clothes on. Had things cooled that significantly because of the dinner conversation? She didn’t want them to.
She sat up and pulled her shirt over her head.
“Well, hello,” he said, rolling onto his back.
“Tomorrow we have to go back to reality.” She stuck her tongue out and made a face. “So let’s make tonight count.” She straddled his hips as she reached for the hem of his shirt.
He put his arms up as she drew it over his head. “Sounds like a plan.”
She arched a brow at his choice of words. “I’m not sure we’re capable of making plans, but it’s a start.”
He laughed. “We’ll figure it out, Tori.” He slid his hands up her rib cage and found her breasts. “Especially when we have this to motivate us.” He tweaked her nipples and massaged her flesh, then tweaked her again, pulling on the hard nubs until she gasped.
She rotated her pelvis against his, reveling in the way his cock caressed her hungry core. He brought a hand down and slipped it past her waistband against her flesh until he pressed on her clit. She ground down, her pleasure building faster than her body could keep up.
She pulled his pants down, and he did the same to hers. They barely kicked them off before he tugged her back down on top of him. He slid up into her in a hard, fast stroke. She clasped his chest and cried out as he hit her G-spot. Casting her head back, she closed her eyes as she rode him. He brought his thumb to her clit and worked it until she came in a burst of light and sound as her moans filled the room.
He bucked up and flipped her onto her back. “That might’ve been a record.” He settled himself between her legs and kept a steady rhythm into her while her orgasm subsided.
“Tori, look at me.”
She opened her eyes.
“You said tomorrow is back to reality, but this,” he said as he drove into her and took her mouth in a searing kiss, “this is reality.” His lips spread into an alluring smile. “Nevertheless, I’m still going to make it count.” He brushed her hair back from her face and maintained eye contact while he fucked her with deep but oh-so-gentle strokes. The bubble they’d existed in the past few days could be defined by this particular moment: There was nothing but the two of them and the connection they shared.
She wanted to prolong this forever, but her body betrayed her when another orgasm broke over her. The force of it shuttered her eyes as she tensed and cried out.
She knew it wouldn’t last, but oh how she wished it would.
Chapter Eighteen
“YOU’RE BACK!” MOM came into the kitchen, where Tori had set a pot of coffee to brew. She wrapped Tori in a tight hug. “How was it?”
Tori pulled back and smiled. “Relaxing.”
“Where’s Sean?”
“He’s prepping for the shoot.” Tori leaned back against the counter. “Mom, are you sure you’re okay with this show?”
Mom’s brows pitched over her eyes, making her look more thoughtful than concerned. “I think it could be good for all of us. It’s certainly going to bring back a lot of memories.” Her lips tilted up into a small smile.
“It will. You’re ready for that?”
“I think I have to be, sweetheart. We all do. This is the new normal, after all.”
Tori couldn’t argue with that logic. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s at the office. This all happened so fast. The only people here today are me, you, and Sara—plus Chloe and Maggie are here for moral support.
“It seems you’re trying to deflect my attention, something you’ve become very adept at.” Now Mom narrowed her eyes in definite concern. “What about Sean? How are things between you? Did being away help?”
Tori didn’t want to say too much, not when there were still so many things they hadn’t resolved. “It went well.”
Mom didn’t look remotely satisfied with that answer. “Are you staying married?”
“Mom, it’s between us, but yes, I think so. We’re working on it.”
“I understand it’s between you, but you should talk about it. You kept everything bottled up for so long, and I think you’ll agree it wasn’t healthy. If you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, fine. But tell someone—Sara, Maggie, Chloe. Pick one or all of them.”
Tori laughed. “Okay, I hear you. And it’s not that I don’t want to share. It’s just that there isn’t much to say. We get along great, but compatibility isn’t the issue. We’re both just really committed to our jobs, and we live in different places. I’m not sure how this is going to work logistically, but we’re working on it.”
“You will figure it out,” Mom said fiercely. “I just hope you don’t love your job more than him.”
The back door opened, and the sound of several sets of footsteps prompted them both to turn and face the hallway. Three men came around the corner, but none of them was Sean.
“Hello!” The shortest man, who was also the oldest, came toward them, his hand extended. “I’m Dale Carruthers. I own Deacon Street Productions. I want to thank you for allowing us to do this show about your family. It’s such an honor to continue your story, especially after the trauma you’ve all endured.”
Mom shook his hand. “Thank you. I’m Emily Archer, and this is my daughter Tori.”
Dale turned to Tori and shook her hand next. “I recognize you from the picture on Sean’s desk. You met in Kuala Lumpur, isn’t that right? I heard that was a great party.” Dale grinned, his tanned skin pulling tight and making Tori wonder if he’d had work done. He was over fifty in the entertainment business in Hollywood; chances were he had.
Sean came in then. His gaze registered everyone present. “Introductions are in order.”
“We’ve just met Dale,” Tori said.
Sean introduced the other two men—the director and the chief cameraman. A handful of other people would be working on the show, including a hair and makeup artist who was due to arrive from Portland.
Dale glanced around. “Where’s everyone else? The other Archers, I mean.”
“Most of them are working. We didn’t have enough notice to organize everything, I’m afraid. Sara’s here—she’s upstairs. The others will be home later this afternoon.”
Dale gave a nod. “Fair enough.” He turned to Sean. “How long until hair and makeup gets here?”
Sean glanced at his phone. “They’re booked for noon, so another half hour or so.”
“What’s going on with wardrobe?”
“I’m going to let Tori handle it, actually. She’s the best-dressed woman I know.” He winked at her.
Dale pursed his lips. “Does that mean you couldn’t find someone local for wardrobe?” He waved his hand. “Never mind, I’m sure it will be fine—we want them to look natural, and we are in the middle of nowhere.”
Tori tried not to be offended by that but utterly failed. She didn’t dare look at Mom’s reaction.
“We like it here in the middle of nowhere,” Mom said, her voice just a tad sweeter than normal, but only enough for someone who knew her like family to notice. “It’s blissfully devoid of city folk like you. No offense.”
“Oh, none taken,” Dale said, and he really seemed to not notice that Mom had actually meant just a teeny bit of offense.
Dale turned his attention to the director, Peter Barnes. “We don’t have everyone here today,” he said, tossing a glance at Sean. “We need the schedule ASAP, Sean.” He went back to Peter. “I figure we can start with one-on-ones—memories of the show, what they’re doing now, and how Alex’s suicide has affected them. I’m especially interested in talking to the girlfriend, the one who was his therapist. She’ll have some great insight, I’m sure.” He turned to look at Tori and her mother. “You understand that there won’t be an on-camera interviewer or moderator? We’ll ask questions, but in editing we’ll make it look free-flowing, and
there’ll be some voice-over.”
Tori barely heard anything he said past “Alex’s suicide.” “Wait. You don’t mean to make Alex’s death a focal point of this show?”
Dale’s forehead, which was quite large given his receding hairline, crinkled into little pleats. “Of course we do. You can’t do a ‘Where Are They Now?’ special without addressing where all of you are in life—or death.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Silly girl.” He turned back toward the director, but Tori touched his arm.
“Hey, I’m not silly, nor am I a ‘girl.’ This show isn’t going to make a big deal out of his suicide. You aren’t grilling us about how we feel.” She didn’t trust herself to even glance at Sean. Had this been his plan all along?
Dale’s brown eyes flashed with distaste. “I wouldn’t have used that word to describe how we’ll interview you, but we intend to ask emotional questions—that’s what viewers will expect.”
Anger burned through her as she turned toward Sean. “You came up here to romance me into doing this damned show. You sold me and my family a project and it didn’t include this . . . this sensationalism. You can take the entire production and shove it up your ass.”
SEAN WATCHED TORI leave and nearly went after her, but Emily was already on her heels. He understood her ire—shared it, in fact—but she’d directed it at the wrong person. He turned to Dale. “A word, please?”
Without waiting for a response, he stalked down the hallway and hesitated on where to go. He didn’t want to take him back outside, where they’d set up a mini warehouse of equipment in the garage bay beneath the apartment. The other crew members were out there unloading.
Instead, he pulled him into a room and was instantly sorry, as it was Alex’s bedroom.
Dale followed him inside, and Sean closed the door before saying, “What the fuck, Dale?”
Dale turned. “What do you mean?” He seemed utterly unconcerned by what he’d just witnessed. He walked around, browsing the room as if he were scouting it to shoot—and he probably was.
“This isn’t a show about Alex. It can’t be.”
“Why, because your wife says so?”
“No, because I say so. That isn’t the show I’m doing.”
“One of the sextuplets offed himself. Of course that’s the show we’re doing.” He darted a glare at Sean.
Offed himself? White fury pulsed behind Sean’s eyes. “Do you realize these people are my family?”
Sean hadn’t even realized it until that moment. He wasn’t just outraged as a human being; he was upset because he cared about these people.
Dale picked up a picture frame on the bedside table. “We need to use this—great photo. Which one of these kids is the sick one? Wasn’t he hooked to an oxygen tank?”
Did Dale not even hear what he’d said? Sean snapped his fingers. “Dale, will you pay attention? You can’t do the show this way.”
Dale set the picture down and fixed Sean with a dark glare. “I can do the show any way I please. And if you don’t like it, feel free to step away. That means stepping away from my company entirely, and I’m not sure you want to do that. Mike told me you need this job.” Damn it, Sean had forgotten that Mike knew he supported his parents. There was a reason he typically kept it to himself—so it wasn’t used against him in situations like this.
“This isn’t the only job,” Sean said quietly.
“Good luck finding something else, especially in a short time frame. Hollywood’s a small town, Sean. You don’t want to burn this bridge.” His features relaxed and even offered a slight smile. “Look, this isn’t going to be a hatchet job. We’re telling a true story that’s already there. They’re a well-known family with a documented history, and now we get to add to that history with what happens to be a very tragic, gut-wrenching event. Think of how inspirational it could be to so many people—how this family has dealt with Alex’s death and risen from the ashes. One of them is dating his former therapist, for Christ’s sake. You can’t ask for a better story!”
Sean wanted to call off the show, but they’d all signed contracts yesterday, and Tori had signed this morning. The show was happening, and if he walked away, he couldn’t at least try to keep Dale in line.
“I can’t guarantee they’ll give you what you want,” Sean said. Their contracts didn’t require them to discuss certain subjects, but they didn’t prohibit topics either. “You can’t demand they talk about things that make them uncomfortable. They may refuse.”
“Then you’ll get them to un-refuse.” Dale moved closer. His stare was direct and superior. “Get them where we need them to be, Sean. If you don’t, you’re out of here.”
With a final look that dared Sean to continue to protest so that Dale could fire him right then, Dale moved past him and left.
Sean exhaled, his frame shaking slightly as anger blazed through him. He could do this—he could make the show that Dale wanted and still maintain his own integrity. More importantly, he could create a show that the Archers would be happy with and proud of. It would be inspirational and celebrate Alex’s death. Sean would ensure it didn’t veer into sensational garbage.
He had to.
He went and looked at the picture Dale had picked up. The kids were lined up, Alex in the middle. Sean knew it was Alex and not Liam, his identical twin, even though they were difficult to tell apart in this picture since Alex wasn’t wearing his oxygen. Though they were identical, Alex was a bit smaller in stature, his growth perhaps stunted by all of the difficulties he’d suffered as a baby.
Alex wore a broad smile that had to have lit the entire world. Sean found Tori on the right side of the picture, between Evan and Liam, who was on the end. She was also smiling. They all looked happy for the most part, except Evan, though he didn’t look unhappy. Looking at the picture, he imagined the hole that had to inhabit all of their lives now. Here they were, a family unit, complete and whole. Now someone would always be missing, no matter how much time passed or how well they all dealt with the loss.
He knew that pain was behind so much of Tori’s behavior—her icy demeanor at first, her pushing him away for so long, her inability to disassociate her happiness with Sean from her grief over not being there for Alex. And he knew that was why she’d become upset just now. She’d feel better once he explained how he’d keep a tight rein on things. He wouldn’t let Dale dredge up all of their sadness and anguish again.
“TORI, WAIT,” MOM called as Tori started down the hall toward her bedroom. She didn’t pause until she got to her room; then she turned to face her mother as she came in.
Mom looked at her with concern. “Are you all right?”
“No.” She couldn’t believe Sean had misled them, especially after the past few days they’d spent at the cabin. “Sean sold us a completely different show.”
“Why don’t you talk to him first? Maybe he’s as surprised by all of this as we are.”
How could he not know? This was his show, wasn’t it? “Mom, would you mind giving me a minute?” She didn’t want to listen to another litany about what a great guy Sean was.
“Sure.” Mom offered an encouraging smile and then left, closing the door behind her.
Alone, Tori paced to the bathroom and back again. The only reason Sean had come up to see her in the first place had been to get this show. He hadn’t been interested in rekindling their relationship or even asking for a divorce. He’d feigned a desire to see if they could make things work, but he’d really been assessing how to make this show happen. He’d befriended her family, wooed them all on board, and then pulled out all the stops to get her to commit.
A knock on her door tensed her shoulders. It’s probably just Mom, she told herself. Or Sara.
She opened the door, and the tension spread through her body. “Sean.”
“Can I come in?”
She wanted to say hell no, but she also wanted to give him a nice, big piece of her pissed-off mind. She opened the door wide and moved away from it,
turning her back on him for a moment. “You completely misled us about this show.”
He closed the door. “No, I didn’t. I hadn’t planned on making Alex’s death the focus. Unfortunately Dale has other ideas, and since this project is owned by Dale’s production company, he gets to dictate what happens.” His mouth pressed into a firm line. “But I’m the executive producer, and I’m going to ensure you’re all comfortable with the end result.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Dale seems pretty skeezy. Why do you work for a guy like that anyway?”
He frowned at her. “Because I’ve accumulated a lot of good experience, and he pays better than most companies his size.” He stepped toward her. She stiffened, and he stopped, his frown deepening. “Look, I’m not necessarily a fan of Dale’s either, but you’re contracted to do the show now. Let me do my job, and I promise it will turn out okay.”
He couldn’t promise that—nothing in life was guaranteed. She crossed her arms, feeling vulnerable. She’d opened up to him on the mountain, let her emotions through for the first time in months, and now she wished she’d kept everything buried. If Dale pushed her to bare herself on camera . . . she didn’t know what would happen. And she didn’t want to find out. “I’m not convinced that’s a promise you can keep. What happens if Dale overrules you? He’s your boss, right?”
Sean ran his hand through his hair and glanced up at the ceiling in frustration. “I won’t let that happen. Tori, trust me, please. I really need you to do this.”
There it was. Contract or not, he needed her to do this show in order to preserve his job—a job he needed to support his parents, but a job that could force her to do something she didn’t want to do. She took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. “Last night, when we were talking about our jobs and our schedules, we realized our careers were really important to us—maybe too important. I think it’s safe to say your job trumps everything else for you.”
He set his hands on his hips as his eyes clouded. “It’s important, but I wouldn’t say it trumps everything.”
