A Bluewater Bay Collection

by Witt, L. A.

  I laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

  He just chuckled.

  I loaded plates onto the leg-press machine, and before I started my set, I glanced over at Natalya again.

  She was still at the squat rack, and her boyfriend had reappeared. They were speaking in hushed tones now, but the fury was palpable from across the room. Natalya didn’t take shit from anybody, and had half the production crew scared to death of her, so I didn’t envy her boyfriend. That finger she kept stabbing in the general direction of his throat wasn’t nearly as menacing as the way her eyes narrowed or her lips peeled back across her teeth. Whatever she was saying in that sharp Russian accent was apparently hitting its mark—his eyebrows climbed higher and higher as he drew back farther and farther, as much as he could within the squat rack’s tight quarters. Much more of this, and he’d either tumble backward out of the rack, or she’d grab a dumbbell and smack him over the head.

  Good for her. He’d dated several women who worked on Wolf’s Landing, and none of them had anything good to say about him. A skeevy manipulative son of a bitch, by all accounts. Jeremy and Alfonse—Levi and Carter’s bodyguard—had both made noises about “removing” him from the set on multiple occasions. I suspected both guys wanted to remove him in multiple pieces.

  Watching Natalya give that asshole what for, though, I was pretty sure she didn’t need any outside assistance, so I went back to my workout. All through my lifts, especially when I was resting in between sets, I stole glances at her, ostensibly to make sure she was all right.

  Perv, I thought as I moved from the leg press to the dumbbell rack. You know damn well that’s not why you’re looking.

  Eh. Guilty. There was no law against looking. And now that I was a free agent again, well, why not? She was beautiful. A few long tendrils of damp, dark-blonde hair had escaped her hairband and now hung in spiraling curls beside her sweaty face. Her taut midriff gleamed with perspiration between the snug yoga pants and blue tank top that was little more than a sports bra. She was one of those women who was so fit she could probably bench any man in this room, but she wasn’t “big” by any means. Just strong and powerful, like she must’ve been back in her gymnastics days.

  An image flashed through my mind of her in a tight leotard, and I almost dropped the dumbbell in my hand. I shook myself, forced Natalya out of my brain—for about two seconds—and focused on doing some lunges.

  Get a grip. She’s straight, remember?

  After my workout, I went into the locker room on rubbery legs. I took a quick shower and planned to take one hell of a long soak in my giant bathtub when I got home. Leg day was always fucking brutal, and since I hadn’t been coming to the gym much lately, I’d be paying for it tomorrow.

  Whatever. Worth it. And I’d have an excuse not to help Leigh carry boxes in the morning. Petty? Maybe. But I was getting a little tired of playing both workhorse and ATM for her. In fact, maybe I wouldn’t even be there tomorrow. She still had a key—the breakup hadn’t been so nasty that I was concerned about her stealing or destroying something—and everything she needed was stacked in the garage or kitchen.

  Yeah. I liked that idea. Levi had been pestering me to come over and watch movies with him and Carter. Since tomorrow was a rare day off for all three of us, I decided it was a damn good time to take him up on it. After I wrapped things up here, I’d shoot him a text.

  As I was starting to rearrange my wet hair into a semipresentable ponytail, the locker room door opened again.

  In the mirror, I saw her come in, and my heart fluttered. Her features were tight the way they always were when someone pissed her off, and she was also flushed and disheveled.

  A second later, she disappeared between two rows of lockers. Shaking myself, I shifted my attention back to my reflection.

  Seriously, Anna. Get a grip. What the hell?

  I pulled my ponytail together and grabbed my gym bag. On my way out, I paused beside her row. She was still dressed, just riffling through her bag, so I cleared my throat. “Natalya?”

  She looked up, and the fury in her expression immediately softened to something in the ballpark of a smile. “Oh. Hi.”

  I gestured toward the door. “You all right? Looked like a nasty fight with your boyfriend.”

  Natalya snorted and waved her hand. “Ex-boyfriend.”

  I blinked. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear it. I hadn’t realized you’d . . .”

  She shook her head. “It’s all right.” Her Russian accent wasn’t terribly thick, but it gave her words a hint of curtness even when she wasn’t pissed off. “I’ve had enough of him.” She blew out a breath, and some of her usual tough exterior faded for a moment. “Breaking up still sucks, though. Now I have to meet up and give him back all his shit.” She threw her locker open, the door banging against the one next to it. I jumped. She didn’t.

  Recovering quickly, I rested my shoulder against a locker. “Well, I feel you. My girlfriend and I just recently called it quits too.”

  She arched a thin eyebrow. “Really?”

  I nodded. “It’s a pain in the ass, but I think it was long overdue.”

  Natalya gave a quiet grunt. “Usually is.”

  “Mm-hmm. Never seems like it at the time, but once it’s over, you wonder why the hell you stayed around so long.”

  She nodded. “God, yes.” She pulled her purse out of her locker and dropped it beside her gym bag with a sharp jingle of keys and change. “And now that it is, I just want to go get drunk.” She looked right at me—oblivious to the little bolts of electricity that went straight to my clit every time our eyes met—and matter-of-factly added, “Join me?”

  Oh. Yes. Please.

  Easy, Anna. She’s only been single for fifteen minutes. And she’s straight.

  I swallowed. “Um, I . . . Well, if I go out for the evening, my bodyguard has to stay with us.”

  She shrugged. “Then we have a driver.”

  I chewed my lip. I was pretty sure Jeremy didn’t want to spend the evening out with me while I drank myself stupid. Not judging by the number of texts he’d exchanged with Scott today, most of them with that silly grin on his face.

  But spending an evening in a bottle with another woman, drinking our exes away, sounded absolutely fabulous.

  “Alternatively,” I said, “I’ve got a fully stocked liquor cabinet.” Blood pounded in my ears. “My place?”

  Natalya grinned, and she nodded. “Your place.”

  Chapter 2

  Natalya still wanted to grab a shower and run home to feed her dog, so we agreed to meet at eight. I gave her my address and left with Jeremy.

  At the house, we sat down for some coffee. He hung around sometimes if his boyfriend was still seeing patients that day and we were done early from the set—I was between episodes at the moment, so we had a bit of a breather for once. That wouldn’t last long. Never did.

  But thank God we’d brought in Simon Conklin as a new director/producer. With him on board, I didn’t have the same enormous workload I’d had last season. Right now, he was mostly directing, but as he took on more responsibilities as a producer, I’d be freed up to direct more. Exactly as I’d hoped when I badgered the studio into hiring him.

  I glanced out the window at my dark driveway. No headlights yet. Hopefully she could find the place. Not every GPS seemed to be able to navigate the roads out here, but she’d probably be okay. Wasn’t as if I lived out in the sticks like Levi and Carter.

  “Earth to Anna?”

  I shook myself and turned to Jeremy. “Hmm?”

  Watching me from across my kitchen table, he chuckled. “You got a hot date or something?”

  “What?” I folded my arms behind my coffee cup. “Why?”

  “You keep looking out the front window, but you’re not pissed off, so I’m assuming you’re not waiting for Leigh.”

  Not tonight, no. She and I had exchanged a couple of texts on the way home, and I bit back a groan just thinking about her coming by
tomorrow morning. “I do not have a date.” Unfortunately. “For your information, Natalya’s coming by for a couple of drinks.”

  Jeremy’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Oh is she?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “A couple of drinks?”

  “Hey!” I straightened, the kitchen chair creaking beneath me. “What exactly are you implying?”

  He shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

  “Riiight.”

  “Just saying.” There was a faint undercurrent of seriousness in his tone. Genuine concern. I hadn’t been drinking that hard lately, had I? Before I could say anything, though, he changed the subject. “Well, before she gets here, what’s the plan for tomorrow? I assume you won’t be leaving the house at the crack of dawn for once?”

  “Thank God, no.” I drummed my nails on the table. “I don’t really have any plans yet. I thought about bugging out when Leigh comes to get her stuff in the morning, but . . . I don’t know. Kinda feels like I should stick around.”

  Jeremy’s forehead creased with concern. “You want me to be here too?”

  “Only if you want to bask in some uncomfortable silence and carry a box or two.”

  “Hmm.” He tapped his fingers on his coffee cup. “Maybe not.”

  “That’s what I figured. I can send you a text after she’s gone. And when I figure out if I’m even leaving the house. It might be nice to stick around here for a day.” I paused. “And I’m sure you and Scott can find ways to occupy an afternoon?”

  He laughed as some color bloomed in his cheeks. “Well, he does have to work.”

  “Right. Like that’s ever stopped the two of you from hooking up.”

  “Fair point.”

  “I’ll let you know, but I don’t see myself doing a whole lot tomorrow.” I got up to rinse out my empty coffee cup, adding over my shoulder. “I’m usually exhausted once Leigh’s gone.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’m serious, though—if you want me to come by while she’s here, say the word.” His tone was gentle and sincere. “I can help her move stuff out, and then the two of you don’t have to interact much.”

  It was tempting. So, so tempting. But working as my bodyguard already cost him plenty of time and energy. Using him to keep the tensions down between me and my ex-girlfriend seemed a bit . . . excessive. Even though I really would’ve liked to have him here. He was a good friend. He knew how to keep me sane and distracted, and for that alone he was worth his weight in gold.

  But he also deserved to spend some time with Scott.

  “I’ll be all right.” Facing him, I forced a smile. “Levi and Carter are off tomorrow too, so I may see if they want to spend the day watching movies.” I paused and in a conspiratorial whisper, added, “You think I can get away with driving myself over there without a bodyguard?”

  “Anna.” He shot me a pointed look. “Just call me if you need me.” A grin played at his lips as he got up and took his mug to the sink. “Especially since we both know you’d take the Ferrari instead of the piece of shit, and the minute you and your lead foot go out there in that car, half the town’s going to notice you, which means it’s going to get back to someone important that I wasn’t there.”

  “Hmm, true. Fine. I’ll call you.”

  “Good.”

  We both laughed, but I had to admit, the whole thing annoyed the hell out of me. My more persistent stalkers had been arrested, and the others seemed to have lost interest. I thought it was stupid that I still couldn’t leave my own property without a bodyguard, but the studio and their insurance company had spoken.

  Good thing Jeremy and I liked each other. How Alfonse put up with Levi—and vice versa—was a mystery. They didn’t hate each other, per se, but Levi resented the shit out of Carter needing a bodyguard, and he wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

  Jeremy’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, took one look at the screen, and a silly grin immediately materialized on his face. “Scott’s last patient just left.”

  “Go. Get out of here.” I shooed him toward the door. “You kids have fun tonight.”

  He chuckled, then paused and glanced out the window. “You too, since it looks like your date just got here.”

  My stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

  “She is not my date,” I hissed even though the headlights in the driveway were making my body temperature soar. “She’s just—”

  He shot me a pointed look.

  I squared my shoulders. “She just broke up with her boyfriend, and she’s coming over to have a few drinks and commiserate over exes. Nothing more.”

  “I’m sure she’s—”

  I didn’t hear anything else he said, because the instant Natalya stepped out of her car, my heart went haywire. She’d changed into a pair of snug jeans and a blouse that hugged her slim, powerful figure. And of course, she’d left the top two buttons open, depending on the one just above her bra to keep things PG-13—because God knew I wasn’t already wondering how I’d form coherent sentences around her tonight.

  Beside me, Jeremy chuckled.

  “Shut up,” I muttered. Our eyes met, and we laughed. “Okay, get out of here. Your man is waiting.”

  We headed for the front door, and when I opened it, Natalya was just reaching for the doorbell.

  “Oh. Hi.” She glanced at Jeremy, then at me, and her thin lips curled into a smile that didn’t help my pulse in the slightest.

  “Um.” I gestured at him. “This is Jeremy, my bodyguard. Jeremy, Natalya.”

  She extended her hand. “I’ve seen you on the set. Never did catch your name before now.”

  “Well.” He smiled, shaking her hand. “Now you know.”

  She gave a quiet laugh.

  “It was nice to actually meet you,” he said. Then to me, he added, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe?”

  “Maybe. Good night, Jeremy.”

  “Good night.” He glanced at Natalya. “Good night, Natalya.”

  She gave him a slight nod and a hint of a smile. “Good night.”

  He headed down the steps. Without being the least bit subtle, she watched his ass as he walked toward his car. Then she turned to me and flashed a toothy grin. “He’s cute.”

  “Jeremy?” I shrugged as I gestured for her to come in. “I guess he is. Boys aren’t really my thing.”

  “And they are his thing, aren’t they?”

  I closed the door behind us. “I didn’t think most people knew.”

  Natalya laughed. “Anyone who’s paid attention for more than three seconds knows that man is gay. He didn’t even blink when Charley West was on set. And she is hot.”

  Yes, she is. You noticed?

  I pushed that thought out of my head—no point in getting my hopes up. “Well, gay or not, he’s gone now.” I grinned. “So that means no adult supervision.”

  She flashed a sharky grin. “Perfect.”

  I started toward the kitchen, motioning for her to follow. “I’ve got a fully stocked liquor cabinet. Any preference?”

  “You have tequila?”

  “Tequila?” I glanced over my shoulder. “Really? I thought you’d—”

  “Not all Russians drink vodka.”

  “Oh. Fair point. Tequila it is. This way.” I stopped at the liquor cabinet and pulled open the glass doors. “We’re both going to feel like shit tomorrow. You know that, right?”

  “I feel like shit tonight. A hangover sounds much better.”

  “Can’t argue with that. Do you want anything to eat?”

  “Limes are enough, I think.”

  I pulled a bottle of Cuervo from the liquor cabinet. A few shots were missing—Leigh and I had both self-medicated a time or two since we’d bought this bottle—but there was more than enough left for tonight.

  “Sorry for the mess.” I gestured with the bottle at the boxes stacked in the kitchen and dining room. “My ex is still moving out.”

  “I guess I’m lucky.” She smirked. “Tommy left
plenty of crap at my place, but never moved in. If he knows what’s good for him, it’ll all be gone by tomorrow.”

  I pulled some glasses from a cabinet—two apiece because hey, go big or go home—and fished around in the fridge for a lime. I found two and paused.

  I’m keeping limes in the fridge now? Okay, maybe Jeremy’s right. Maybe I have been drinking a lot lately.

  Vowing to go easy on the sauce after tonight, I put one of the limes on the counter.

  As I started cutting them, Natalya picked up a slice and slipped it between her lips. Her cheeks hollowed and her lips puckered around the rind, and I just about chopped off my finger.

  She grimaced and pulled the lime free. “Wow. These are . . . sour.”

  I laughed. “What did you expect?”

  “They’re usually a little bit sweeter.” She shrugged and sucked on it again. This time, the rind came back completely bare. “Sour, but good.”

  “They taste better with condiments.” I nodded toward the Cuervo.

  She laughed. “They always do.” Then she licked her thumb, probably to catch some lingering lime juice, and winked, and I had no idea what to read into that.

  “Well.” I cleared my throat. “Shall we go in the living room and get comfortable?”

  “Yes, please.” She picked up the bottle and the plate of limes. I grabbed an empty plate for rinds, plus the shaker of salt off the kitchen table, and we moved into the living room.

  I grimaced as I eased myself onto the couch.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  “Mm-hmm. Leg day.”

  “Oh.” She laughed. “I know the feeling.” She patted her hip. “Squats for me today. Won’t be able to move tomorrow.”

  Oh honey. I know you did squats today. Believe me, I know . . .

  And because my pulse wasn’t already going crazy, she picked just that moment to lick the back of her finger. At least I hadn’t been pouring the tequila right then, or she might’ve thought I was already drunk.

  She put some salt on her finger, and after I filled the glasses, I licked my own finger and put some salt on it.

  Then I cleared my throat and raised one of the shot glasses. “To killing ourselves at the gym.”