by Cindy Dees
The playback ended, and everyone watching was momentarily silent, which Jackson took as a supreme compliment from the crew. But then, the teasing and comments started to fly. They were worse than usual today. Not only had that scene been the closest to on-set sex of any of his and Ana’s scenes to date, but most of the film’s cast and crew happened to be in the studio today.
He had no choice but to take it in good humor, but he did console himself with the fact that he was the guy who got to take Ana home that night and sleep with her for real. The rest of them could only go home and jerk off alone while fantasizing about her.
Crash muttered from beside him, “Can you stand up yet, buddy?”
Jackson scowled at the stunt coordinator, but the guy smiled and shrugged. “I wouldn’t be able to get through a scene like that without getting pretty turned on. Ana’s one hell of a firecracker.” He added thoughtfully, “Never thought you’d be the one to light her off, though.”
“Can it. She’s just doing her job.”
“Just a job. Right.” Mashburn grinned. “Of course, if I were you, I’d stake my claim on her pretty damned fast. After today’s scene, every guy on the crew’s gonna be gunning for a piece of that action from her.”
Jackson barely refrained from grabbing the guy by the shirtfront and telling him to back the hell off.
Rather than make a complete fool of himself, he and the wadded towel in his lap stomped off to his office to take a shower. A cold one.
The worst of his frustration abated, he dried off and dressed thoughtfully. Crash did have a point. The other guys were going to come after Ana hard now. And there was no way he would allow it. He didn’t even want to think about the feeding frenzy in Hollywood once the film premiered.
Shy of putting a stamp across Ana’s forehead that said in big red letters Taken, he doubted that anything would likely back other men off. They all knew he was a confirmed bachelor. They would assume she’d be a free agent any second if she wasn’t already. He couldn’t afford to lose any of his other actors or primary crew members going into the bulk of production on this movie, and Adrian didn’t need strife in his crew over a woman, either.
The alternative wasn’t much better, though. If he made it clear he was dating Ana, how would the cast and crew react? But if he pretended not to be dating Ana, then open season would be declared on her, and he was back to the beginning of his argument. He swore luridly at the entire situation.
The ride home cleared his mind. As he slowed to turn into his driveway, a shocking thought occurred to him. What would be so bad about telling Ana how he felt about her? That he wanted to change their arrangement. To upgrade their on-screen relationship to a real, off-screen one. That the two of them needed to formalize their relationship to avoid the appearance of favoritism with the cast and crew.
What the hell “formalizing” entailed, he had no idea, and he frankly shied away from wanting to define it. Images of a white dress and church pews flashed through his head, and he banished them hard.
Ana would go along with the plan, right? She’d had a crush on him since they’d met. And either she was the greatest faker in history, or she was as addicted to what they had going on between the sheets as he was.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of making the two of them official. They had a ton in common. He genuinely enjoyed being with her—in and out of bed. Minerva would shut up and quit pestering the two of them. Even better, Ana was gradually driving the demons out of his head. Maybe someday she would actually succeed at driving them out of his heart, too. And the sex...well, the sex was epic.
Yup, he had a plan. Now to implement it. When he got home, he heard the shower running in his and Ana’s room. Perfect. He headed downstairs to recruit Rosie and Minerva to help him finalize his plan for a perfect, romantic date. Tomorrow night. Him and Ana.
Chapter 14
Ana started getting ready for her date with Jackson hours before it was time to go. But she was so nervous she couldn’t sit still. He’d been kicked out of their room for the day and had retreated to some other guest room to do whatever guys did before they went out on a date. He wouldn’t tell her anything except to dress up.
Three new and gorgeous cocktail gowns had appeared as if by magic in the closet last night. Make that Minerva magic. The woman really was a loving and generous soul, even if she was a meddler.
Ana heard Jackson’s motorcycle roar out of the garage right about when she was despairing of ever getting her toenail polish right. As if on cue, a knock on the door turned out to be Minerva offering to help her get ready. Thank God. She was losing her mind in here alone.
“Okay, I need a spy report,” Ana declared. “What does Jackson have planned for tonight?”
“I’ll never tell,” Minerva replied playfully.
“Huh. Some help you are.”
“Here. Give me that nail polish. You’re going to look like chiggers attacked you if you get much more of that red polish on your ankles.”
Ana gratefully relinquished the little bottle into more capable hands. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”
“Nope. My lips are sealed.” But Minerva’s eyes twinkled merrily. She was pleased with whatever Jackson had cooked up for tonight, obviously.
Drat. “Can you at least tell me which dress you think I should wear?”
In short order, she had to try on all three dresses and model them for Minerva.
Eventually, the older woman declared, “The white one. No question about it.”
“You don’t think it’s too...well, bridal? God knows, Jackson is jumpy as all get-out about anything that remotely reminds him of Vanessa.”
“It’s high time he got over that. It happened years ago, for goodness’ sake. At some point, a person’s got to pick themselves up and move on. I never liked that girl much, anyway.”
“Really? She sounded just about perfect from what I read. At least up to the part where she cheated on Jackson and didn’t bother to break up with him before she married that doctor.”
“She was cold. Controlling. That girl had Jackson dancing on a chain like a trained dog most of the time. It wasn’t good for him.”
“How so?”
“I’m sure Jackson’s talked to you about his childhood.” Ana nodded and Minerva continued. “That kind of start in life doesn’t build a lot of confidence in a child. I don’t think he ever felt good enough for Vanessa. He thought he was the one reaching above himself in the relationship, but in truth, she didn’t come close to deserving him.”
“Jackson’s always struck me as self-confident and at ease in his skin.”
“Acting has been good to him. Not only has he had a lot of success, but he’s grown up. Discovered something he’s really good at.”
She could think of more than a few things he was good at. A flash of Jackson blowing her mind in bed momentarily distracted Ana.
“Can I help with your makeup, dear? In my day, most actresses had to do their own stage makeup. I’ve got a fair hand with it.”
Ana laughed. “Be my guest. Anything you can do will be better than what I can.”
* * *
At six o’clock, Jackson got back from the Chesshire Hotel, where he’d checked to make sure the finishing touches on the evening were in place. He’d rented one of the venerable resort’s private villas for the night. Long a destination of Hollywood stars seeking utter seclusion for their most private rendezvous, the villas were opulent and aching romance.
He went upstairs to shave and put on the tuxedo his grandmother occasionally drafted him into wearing when he took her to various charity functions. For once, he was glad he owned the damned penguin suit.
He combed his mostly dry hair into place, gave his bow tie one last tug to straighten it, and headed downstairs to the veranda. H
e checked his watch. Almost seven-thirty. He poured two glasses of the expensive Mosel white wine Minerva had insisted on donating to tonight’s undertaking from her private stock of collector wines.
There. Everything was perfect. He looked up as the French doors opened. Forget what he’d just thought. Now that was perfection.
Ana stepped outside into the gathering sunset and paused to take in the view...and him. A slow, hesitant smile unfolded on her face as she sought his gaze. She walked across the stone terrace toward him, and they never broke eye contact. He drank in the sight of her with a combination of awe and delight.
He wondered if Minerva had given her a heads-up about what he’d done to the villa, because her vintage dress was white. Thin spaghetti straps held up the unadorned bodice. It cinched in tightly to her waist, and the skirt flared in layered petals of chiffon that skimmed her tanned legs like dozens of butterfly kisses. Her blond hair framed her face in a golden nimbus that made her eyes look huge and dark and mysterious in the wash of crimson sunset.
She glanced up at him sidelong as he handed her a glass of wine. “Would you like a glass of wine before we go?”
“We’re not staying here?” she asked in surprise.
“Of course not. We eat here every night. It’s a beautiful spot, but I promised you something special.”
“You did? I thought you just promised me a date.”
He grinned as he led her through the mansion to the tall front doors. He opened them with a flourish. “In my world, a date means something special.”
Ana gasped in delight at the white limousine waiting in front of the mansion. He smiled indulgently, enjoying her pleasure. Wait till she got a load of the rest of the evening’s surprises. This date of theirs was going to be so romantic, and he was going to sweep her off her feet so thoroughly that she couldn’t possibly say no to being his for real.
He guided her into the spacious limo and topped off his glass with the wine, which he’d brought along. Somehow, Minerva had discovered that Ana didn’t care for champagne, hence the white wine. Although Ana’s glass looked like she’d barely touched it.
“Don’t like the wine?” he asked. It was good, though even he had to admit it didn’t taste much like wine. He started to reach for the limo’s built-in bar.
“The wine’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m just a little nervous. Butterflies in my stomach aren’t liking alcohol right now.”
Fair enough. Nerves and butterflies boded well for his plan. “A toast,” he murmured. “To us and to many, many more nights just like this one.”
“To us,” she murmured. She touched the glass to her lips while he took a sip of the German wine. It was crisp and fresh and as elegant as the woman seated across from him.
He kept the conversation light during the ride to the hotel. Ana gasped in delight as the limousine turned into the lush drive of Serendipity’s iconic seaside hotel. He commented, “It’s the movie-star treatment for you tonight.”
“Ooh, this is going to be fun.”
She had no idea.
They strolled through the tropical garden that provided privacy for the row of villas, and she gasped again as he turned down the private walk to one of them. He pulled out the key and opened the door for her. It had taken a refrigerated truck to get all the roses here earlier this afternoon.
He’d chosen Caroline de Monaco roses—white, tipped in pale pink—for her. They were pure with just a hint of naughty, like Ana herself. And they were everywhere. Dozens upon dozens of them, tucked in corners, displayed on mantles, resting on tables, floating in crystal bowls. And where there weren’t roses, there were candles. Thousands of them. The hotel had devoted a half dozen staff members to arranging the flowers and lighting the candles for him this afternoon.
Even he was blown away by the effect. It was like an enchanted fairy bower. As he’d requested, a table for two was laid with white linens, fine crystal and sterling silver. A single perfect Caroline de Monaco rose lay across Ana’s plate.
Jackson seated Ana at the table with a smile and a light kiss on her cheek.
“My goodness, Jackson. When you said a real date, I didn’t think you meant all of this!”
He shrugged. “Never let it be said that I do anything halfway.”
She laughed lightly as she spread her napkin. “Duly noted, sir.”
A waiter in a tuxedo and white gloves served them each course. They lingered over the magnificent food and chatted about nothing and everything. Watching her eat a piece of double chocolate devil’s food cake was a sexual experience in and of itself. Who knew that solid, sensible Ana was such a sucker for chocolate?
It dawned on him eventually that this was the first time he’d seen Ana eat well in a while. She’d even been picking at Rosie’s delicious cooking for the past week or two. Poor girl was under a lot of stress. But all things considered, she was holding up remarkably well.
He had to hand it to his grandmother. He might not have ever found Ana if it weren’t for Minerva’s pressuring and interference. Being with Ana had definitely been good for him. He only hoped he’d been good for her, too. And not just in the “I gave her a big break” way.
“What’s on your mind, Jackson? You went quiet all of a sudden.”
He smiled across the intimate table. “I was thinking about us.”
Unaccountably, her expression abruptly went serious on him. Tight. Tense. Fearful, even. She’d barely touched her wine, and he suddenly wished he’d been able to get quite a bit more of the liquid relaxation down her.
“Are you sorry you took this role?” he asked.
Her brow twitched into a momentary frown. “The movie role? Of course I’m not sorry. It’s the chance of a lifetime. Heck, I hit the career lottery. I’m thrilled beyond belief.”
That wasn’t the role he’d been thinking about. He’d had in mind the role of real girlfriend to him.
He opened his mouth to explain, but she interrupted him, blurting all in a rush, “There’s something I have to tell you. I’m too nervous to listen to anything you have to say until I tell you what I have to.”
He smiled indulgently. “Of course. What’s on your mind that’s making you so nervous?”
“You.”
His smile widened. “There’s nothing to be nervous about with me. We’re colleagues, friends and lovers. Pretty much what you see is what you get with me. And we’ve gotten to know each other extremely well. You can tell me anything.”
“God, I hope so.” She took a deep breath that threatened to spill her swelling cleavage out of the top of her dress in the most distracting and sexy way. “Here goes.”
What on earth had her wrapped so tightly?
She exhaled hard. “Jackson, I’m pregnant. For real.”
Chapter 15
Ana winced as Jackson looked like his brain had just exploded inside his skull. His face turned dark red. Heck, even his ears turned red. “You’re what?” he demanded with terrible intensity.
Ana flinched, even though he hadn’t raised his voice, not one decibel. “You heard me. I’m pregnant.”
“How in the hell did that happen?”
“Um, the same way it usually does. You had a health class in high school, right? Insert Widget A in Slot B and all?”
He shoved back from the table violently and surged to his feet. Emotions blasted across his face like artillery bursts. Shock. Dismay. Fury. Chagrin. Betrayal.
Her insides felt as if he’d reached down her throat and torn her heart out. This was supposed to be a happy moment. One shared by a loving couple excited to have created a new life between them. The beginning of a forever family...
“How could you?” he threw at her.
...or not.
“Excuse me,” she retorted frostily, “but you were there, too. And
a willing participant in the act, I might add.”
“You said you were taking birth control pills.”
“And I was.”
“Then how?”
“I’m just as stunned as you are, Jackson. Statistically, the Pill is ninety-eight percent effective or something like that. Apparently, we’re part of the two percent.”
“Lucky us.”
He might as well have stabbed a knife in her heart. She wanted this baby. His baby. Their baby. But he was acting like she’d just declared a death sentence on him.
“God. The press is going to have a field day with this. I’ve spent years trying to avoid exactly this sort of scandal. Not to be a tabloid joke, like my mother!”
He paced the living room in agitation, kicking aside rose petals angrily as he went. She watched warily. Too many emotions and thoughts were flying across his face for her to decipher them all. But the bottom line was that he was furious. And he blamed her.
She was willing to tolerate a little bit of that, initially. This news had hit him out of the blue, after all. But at the end of the day it had taken two of them to freaking tango. He could step up and take responsibility for his part in making this child.
The longer he paced, muttering to himself, the less patience she had with his reaction. Sure it was a shock. It had been a hell of a shock to have her suspicions confirmed, too. But she’d moved on to the practical considerations a hell of a lot faster than he was doing now.
“I suppose you expect me to marry you,” he flung at her. “That you’ve won the lottery and forced my hand.”
That did it. She planted her palms on the linen-covered tabletop and surged to her own feet. “I don’t expect a damned thing of you, Jackson Prescott. And for the record, you’re behaving like a complete ass.”
She was not going to cry in front of him. She raced outside and ran down the sidewalk until the main hotel came into view. Heading for the lobby, she asked for a cab, and in under a minute was riding down the lush drive. And he didn’t try to stop her.
