Sable took a sip of the cold, fruity wine. Her eyes met his over the rim of the glass. She expected the blue depths to be brimming with humor. There wasn’t a trace. Either Colt was serious or he was a damn good actor.
“I can’t wait,” she said, playing along. “Gold glitter and spray on tan. The ratings will soar.”
“It would have been a challenge.”
Colt took her glass, setting it with his on the table. With a push of a button, the song changed. The clunky country became smooth, bluesy rock and roll.
“Unfortunately, my schedule wouldn’t permit my participation.”
“What a shame.”
“Mmm.” Colt easily swung Sable into his arms. “I told them Garrett would be happy to take my place.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.” The teasing glint was back in his blue eyes. “It wouldn’t have been fair to the producers. But Garrett didn’t know that. I had a friend spread some fake publicity. It gave Dancing with the Stars some extra exposure and made Garrett sweat. So, win-win.”
“I don’t know how your mother survived four boys,” Sable laughed, following Colt’s strong, sure lead. They danced in a slow, swaying circle.
“Don’t let her fool you. Callie Flynn is an instigator. More often than not, she encouraged us.”
“Whatever she did, it worked. It’s obvious you love your brothers.”
“I do.” Colt’s breath warmly caressed Sable’s ear, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine. “They are my best friends. They have my back. No matter what. This business can eat you up and spit out your bones without a second thought. Family—people who love you unconditionally? There’s no substitute for that.”
Sable lay her head on Colt’s shoulder. Family. She had her mother. That relationship was so complicated it would take a slew of shrinks years to chip away at the source. Sable shuddered at the thought. No thanks. The problem with her father was easy to diagnose. However, unless he agreed to speak to her, the solution was just as impossible.
“You’re quiet.”
“I was thinking about family.”
“Your father?”
Sable nodded. “The movie industry is your family business. The Army is mine. My father was thrilled when I joined up.”
“And your mother?”
“Horrified. But resigned. I wasn’t able to visit my parents very often. Especially the first year or so. The Army—the soldiers around me, became family. When I quit, I lost them and my father.”
“I’m sorry.” Colt’s arms tightened around her waist.
She loved that Colt didn’t ask her to explain. Instinctively, he seemed to understand she wasn’t ready. Sable didn’t know if that day would ever come. The words always stuck in her throat. Her stomach would churn.
Sable prided herself on her strength. She refused to be a victim. It was why she left the Army. If she had stayed, it would have meant giving into someone else. Someone who used his power to make others bend to his will.
It wasn’t a decision she had made lightly. She weighed her options. Considered every avenue open to her. In the end, she walked away. She kept her dignity and her self-respect. But she lost the most important person in her life. Her father.
The song changed. Hearing the first few notes, Sable smiled. It reminded her of when she was a little girl. A good memory and at the moment, exactly what she needed
“Moondance is my father’s favorite song.”
“Would you like me to put on something else?”
“No.” Sable held Colt close. “Dad loved vinyl records. He didn’t care about material things, but his collection went with us wherever we moved. He had an old portable turntable and the sound was terrible.” Sable laughed. “God, I loved it. After dinner, on the nights he was home, he would make us a milkshake. Chocolate. Mom warned that it would give me acne and make me fat, but we didn’t listen. She would close the bedroom door and Dad would play Van Morrison. He let me stand on his feet and we danced.”
“How old were you?”
“Five? Maybe six? The last time was just before my tenth birthday.”
“What happened?”
“Mom.” Sable sighed. “She didn’t think it looked right.”
“A father dancing with his daughter? What’s wrong with that?”
“You would have to ask my mother. Or crawl inside her head, and I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone.”
As much as she loved and respected her father, Sable never quite forgave him when he didn’t put his foot down. Mathias Ford was a born leader of men. However, when it came to his wife, he almost always gave in rather than deal with her. Sable understood. There was no reasoning with Iris. She formed her opinions quickly and they were set in stone.
Still, she wished, just that once, her father would have put his foot down.
“We didn’t dance again until the night of my high school graduation. I can’t remember the song. Something formal that my mother picked out.”
“It wasn’t the same.” It was a statement, not a question.
“No.”
The song faded. Holding her with one arm, Colt picked up her glass and handed it to her.
“I tell you what. Finish that while I cook us dinner.”
Sable followed Colt to the kitchen. She sat on a barstool, ready to be entertained.
“FYI? I’m not a big fan of canned ravioli.”
“Please. Your doubts wound me.”
Colt took a carrot in one hand and a long, dangerous-looking knife in the other. With dazzling skill, he sliced and chopped until there was a pile of small, uniform pieces.
“Impressive,” Sable admitted. “But I’m not a rabbit. This woman needs stick to her ribs fare. Why don’t we have something delivered?”
“I took a course.” Colt opened the refrigerator. “T-bone or Chateaubriand?”
“T-bone.”
“Good choice.”
“A course?”
“Cooking.”
He whipped out an apron that had a big turkey on the front, it read, Butter my balls, and I’ll follow you anywhere. God, he was adorable.
“I assumed.”
“A few years ago I was in negotiations to play a classically trained chef. To prepare, I spent a month at the Cordon Bleu.”
“Naturally.” Sable sipped her wine. “There are some very good schools in this country.”
“True. But they aren’t in Paris.”
“It’s a beautiful city. The food is spectacular.”
“You’ve been?” Colt sliced a pile of mushrooms in record time.
“Join the Army, see the world.”
“How does that song go?” He thought for a second. “I joined the Navy to see the world. But what did I see? I saw the sea. I saw the Atlantic and the Pacific, but the Pacific ain’t so terrific, and the Atlantic ain’t romantic anymore.”
“Not bad.” Sable applauded. Colt had a fine singing voice. And he knew how to sell a song. “Fred Astaire. Follow the Fleet.”
It was Colt’s turn to be impressed. “Wow. I didn’t think you would get that.”
“The women I hang out with in Harper Falls are movie fans. Before I moved there, I probably saw one or two movies a year.”
Colt gasped in mock horror, making Sable laugh.
“Now, it’s more like two or three a week. Sometimes more. They have themed weekend marathons. A few months ago it was Fred and Ginger.”
Ever the showman, Colt entertained Sable while he prepared their meal. She was so busy listening and laughing, he was ready to plate the meal in what seemed like record time. In truth, two glasses of wine and forty-five minutes had passed.
“Aren’t we eating at the counter?
“This is the first time I’ve cooked for you.” Colt took two silver candle holders from the cupboard. “First times should always be special.”
Sable met his gaze. Colt’s lips curved in a slow, sexy smile. She could tell what Colt was thinking because his eyes were so e
asy to read. And because she was thinking about the same thing. The first time they had sex. Special didn’t begin to describe it. She would cherish the memory until the day she died.
Setting out candles on a lace tablecloth with silverware and china was Colt’s way of giving her—them—another shared memory. It made her heart ache a little, but Sable refused to dwell on the future and all the things they wouldn’t share. She kept telling herself to live in the here and now. And, for the most part, that was what she was doing.
“If you’d asked, I would have set the table.” She felt pampered and a little odd, sitting while Colt took care of everything.
“You did your part. You kept me company.”
“I watched,” Sable corrected, then shook her head. “I don’t know how you stayed so calm and focused. No performance anxiety?”
“That’s never been a problem for me.”
“Thank God,” Sable grinned.
Colt leaned over, his mouth covering hers. The kiss was hot and much too brief. “Hold that thought for later.”
“You don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Bet I do. Just as you know what I have on my mind.”
Sable swallowed. The blue heat from the look he gave her sent shivers down her spine. It made her hungry for more than food.
“No.” Colt backed away. “Dinner,” he winked, “then dessert.”
“It looks amazing.”
Sable brought their glasses to the table. The loft had a designated dining area. It was toward the back, almost hidden from the living room. She was aware of its existence, but until now, they hadn’t used it. They either stayed at the counter or used the coffee table and sat on the floor or the sofa.
This was nice for a change. Intimate. Romantic.
Colt seemed to agree. He held her chair out, seating her with a flourish. Not something he did when they ate cold cereal or takeout pizza. The kiss he left on the side of her neck was a nice touch.
The bank of windows let them enjoy the city with their meal. It was beautiful. Perfect.
“Cooking is an art form.” Colt refilled their glasses before bringing their plates from the kitchen.
“It’s temporary. A painter or a sculptor creates something that potentially will last forever. This, though admittedly beautiful, with be gone in minutes. All that work forgotten.”
“I didn’t make the meal for the world, or generations to come, to appreciate. I did it for you. Will you forget?”
Sable smiled. “No. Never.”
“Then this artist is happy.”
The meal lasted more than a few minutes. They lingered. They talked movies and music and art. What they liked. What moved them. What made them laugh. What made them cry.
“The end of Love Story. Every time.” Colt rolled his eyes. “Come on. Ali MacGraw in the hospital bed? It was the only time I bought Ryan O’Neal except as window dressing. How could that not destroy you?”
“She didn’t look sick,” Colt exclaimed. “And what disease did she have?”
“Leukemia.”
Adamantly, Colt shook his head. “I defy you to find one reference to leukemia. It isn’t there.”
Sable opened her mouth to argue, then changed course when she realized something.
“How many times have you watched Love Story?”
“It only takes one time to see a plot hole that big.”
“How many times?”
Sable watched Colt squirm. He fiddled with his napkin. Rearranged his knife and fork. Took a sip of wine. Her gaze didn’t waver. She knew the second she won. Colt didn’t prevaricate when he looked her directly in the eyes.
“Six times. But,” he added when she laughed, “In my defense, it’s one of Mom’s favorite movies.”
“I see. You poor baby.” Sable patted his hand with mock sympathy. “She strapped you down and forced you to watch it with her? Should I call Child Services?”
“Smart. Ass.”
“Love Story. Lover.”
Colt held out a few moments longer. Then he grinned. The full-on smile that made her heart beat a little faster.
“Guilty.” With a sigh, he threw his hands up in surrender. “When I was ten, Ali MacGraw was my dream girl.”
“That’s sweet.” Tongue firmly in cheek, Sable asked, “How old were you when you discovered big breasts?”
Colt didn’t dispute her statement.
“Remember the girl I told you about? The one I talked into the backseat of my dad’s car?”
“I do.”
How could she forget? The teasing in the car. The paparazzi. The wild sex in the garage. It made her smile. It always would. Colt returned her smile. Another shared memory. The list grew on a daily basis.
“She had large breasts.”
“Men and mammary glands. It’s a mystery.”
“We’re simple creatures, Sable. I like women’s breasts. Big, small, and everything in between.” Colt’s eyes lowered to her chest. “I’ve become particularly fond of yours.”
“The in-between variety?” Sable teased.
“Perfect.” Colt licked his lips. “Ready for dessert?”
With studied calm, Sable dabbed her mouth with her napkin. She kept her eyes down, hiding the spark of interest. “Dinner was delicious. And filling. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“I had something non-caloric in mind.”
“Sugar-free?” Sable wrinkled her nose.
“But very, very sweet.” Colt pushed his chair back from the table. His deep blue eyes teased, the heat in them building.
The sound Sable made was somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. He wanted to play? She couldn’t have eaten another bite—but her mouth watered. She stood, backing away. She didn’t turn. Or run. However, she maintained a fair distance between them. If Colt wanted her, he would need to put some effort into it.
“It was a heavy meal, Colt. I wouldn’t want you to get a cramp.”
“We won’t go swimming.”
Colt stalked her. Sable couldn’t think of a better word to describe his movements. Slow. Relentless. His gaze never wavered. She was his willing prey. Nowhere to hide. But plenty of room to evade.
Sable began by putting the sofa between them.
“Tell me what you have in mind. I may not be in the mood.”
Colt raised one eyebrow. So that’s how you want to play this? A little cat and mouse? Fine. I don’t mind. In the end, we both get what we want. We both win. It was an extremely expressive eyebrow.
“The longer you tease, the more I’ll have to pay you back.”
“Is that a threat?” If it were, he would have to do better. Sable liked his form of retribution.
“A promise.” Colt’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign he meant business. “Take off your shirt and I’ll go easy on you.”
Sable had never heard a better argument for staying fully clothed. Easy? No thanks. She wanted everything he had to give. The harder and more intense, the better.
“You first.”
Colt’s shirt flew through the air before Sable could blink. Then she didn’t want to. No one in their right mind would close their eyes if it meant they would miss a second of the view he presented.
“I didn’t say anything about your pants.”
“It will save time,” Colt reasoned. He sent his jeans in the same direction as his shirt. “I’ll be naked when I catch you so I can concentrate on ripping off your clothes.”
“Rip?”
Sable ran a finger down the buttons of the silk blouse. She was fond of her wardrobe. Technically the items didn’t belong to her, but that didn’t mean she was careless in her treatment of them. If she removed it from a hanger in the morning, it was replaced that evening—with gratitude. Almost reverence.
It wouldn’t be right to let Colt destroy a single item. No matter how good the cause.
“There you go.” Colt nodded when Sable slowly unbuttoned her shirt. “Cooperation is always appreciated.”
“I’m doing it
for you, you idiot. This is silk.”
“So?”
“You don’t rip silk.”
“I do.” Colt fainted right, faking a move in her direction. “But if you hurry, I’ll have mercy. The worms will not have toiled in vain.”
“Did I say idiot? Correction. You, Colton Landis, are a first class asshole.”
“First class?” Colt folded his arms over his puffed out chest. “Thank you.”
“First class asshole.”
“Eh?” He cupped a hand to his ear. “I didn’t hear that last bit.”
Sable neatly folded the blouse and set it on the arm of the sofa. Next, she unzipped her black jeans and shimmied them down her legs. A few moments later, they sat next to the blouse. She wore two small scraps of lace. Pale pink. Feet planted firmly, hands on her hips, she faced Colt.
“Ass. Hole. Still can’t hear me? Come closer. I dare you.”
“Jesus. My own warrior princess.” Colt hissed the words, his breathing harsh. “You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen.”
“Take me down and you can have me.” Sable circled him. She crouched slightly, preparing for battle. “Any thing. Any way. But you have to beat me to get it.”
Colt’s eyes flared with desire. The deepest, brightest blue Sable had ever seen. The determination she saw written on his face took her breath away. He wanted her.
“More than my next breath.”
Sable didn’t question how he read her mind. She knew what he was thinking. It made perfect sense that he could return the favor.
“I won’t let you win.”
Colt’s stance mimicked hers. His smile slowly widened. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SABLE OPENED HER eyes. She didn’t want to do it. Keep them closed. You’re warm. Relaxed. Half asleep. Colt’s arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you close. There is no place on Earth you would rather be.
Instincts were great. Sable followed hers more often than not. But habit ruled. The light on her phone flashed. The slight buzz woke her and there was no going back until she checked to see who was texting her at two in the morning.
Colt was sound asleep. One glance told her he was out for the count. Nothing short of an earthquake, or a blow job would wake him. On second thought, nix the blow job. Been there, enjoyed that.
Dreaming Of Your Love (Hollywood Legends #3) Page 17
