Falling Stars

by Tanya Stowe

Jackson inhaled the salty scent of sea air as they walked up the short walkway. They stepped into a small foyer with an antique coat rack.

  At least this place had a warm feel, something that resembled a lived-in atmosphere. The agent led the way around the corner, and Jackson stopped in his tracks. The whole back wall of the house was glass from floor to ceiling and the magnificent Pacific rolled before him…all the way to the horizon. Beyond the windows, a massive wooden patio extended out over the sand.

  Beside him, Sunny gasped.

  The agent chuckled. “It has the same effect on everyone.”

  To Jackson’s right was a small, compact kitchen with marble counters and stainless steel appliances. Tucked behind the kitchen wall, a set of stairs led to the second story. A flagstone fireplace lay just beyond the stairs on the same side. Above the mantel, a large television took focal center. A brown leather sectional sofa arranged itself in an “L” shape, one portion facing the TV and the other facing the panoramic view of the ocean.

  Jackson couldn’t look away from the view, even when the agent led them up the oak slab stairs to a narrow hall.

  On the right was a second bedroom with its own bathroom. The window was high enough above the road to showcase a perfect view of the velvety green hills across the highway. Down the hall on the left, the master bedroom boasted its own wall of glass that faced the ocean and a balcony as large as the one below.

  Jackson walked right past the California King-sized bed and the marbled bathroom with a spa to open the sliding glass doors of the balcony. A breeze hit him in the face, causing him to catch his breath. The wind had blown all day, but he hadn’t really paid attention. Now he leaned against the wood railing and inhaled deeply. The air was crisp and tangy with a strong, fishy brine. But he didn’t care. It wasn’t oily, like cars or asphalt, and he needed the freshness like he needed oxygen.

  Sunny leaned one elbow on the railing, facing him. The breeze picked up one long, silvery length of her hair and whipped it across her body. Green eyes sparkled, and her bright white smile was engaging.

  He couldn’t see any sign of makeup on her lovely skin. Just a little something on her lashes. Most women in the business wore so many cosmetics their skin looked like a mask in the sunshine. But not Sunny. Did she know how pretty she was? So fresh and clean, like the air?

  “I take it this one meets with your approval?” Her tone was low and sweet.

  He nodded. “I can breathe here.”

  The wind caught his hat and lifted it slightly. He ducked his head and fitted it back into place. “I guess that doesn’t make much sense to you.”

  “Oh, yes, it does. It makes perfect sense. I’ll go make the arrangements. You stay here and breathe.” Her smile flashed brighter, if that was even possible, and she hurried away.

  The sun was low on the horizon. It would be setting soon. Maybe the arrangements would take long enough they’d be here when it happened, and they could watch it. He had the feeling that a sunset with Sunny would be special. Jackson watched the sinking sun and counting the minutes.

  All too soon, she came back and handed him a key ring with three keys. He held out his hand, and she dropped them into his palm. “It’s all yours.”

  He nodded. “Thanks. And tell your team thank you for me. This place…” he looked up and down the beach… “I think this place will make my stay here enjoyable.”

  Her smile beamed. “I think so, too. The minute you stepped out here, you came alive.”

  Cocking his head sideways, he studied her. “You noticed that, huh?”

  “Yes. I’ve watched enough of your performances on video to recognize it. You get this…charged energy when you’re on stage. You’re alive and vital and compelling. That look’s been missing since you got here, and that energy is what I want for the show.”

  Some of the pleasure her words created faded. “Just for the show?”

  “No.” She shook her head and her waist-length locks rippled and lifted in the wind. “Not just for the show. I want you to be happy. It’s important.”

  “Why?” He tried to keep the intensity out of his voice, but it didn’t work.

  “Because I promised you a good experience, Jackson. My words need to count for something.”

  “Why?”

  She laughed. “Isn’t a good reputation a great thing to have?”

  “Sure. But I get the sense there’s more to it than that.”

  She eased her elbows onto the railing and leaned toward the sun, so low now, it almost touched the watery horizon. She was silent for a long while and he stood beside her, watching the brilliant ball of fire slip down into the blue.

  “I guess…” Her pause lasted so long Jackson thought she’d decided not to answer but, finally, she took a deep breath. “I guess it’s important to me to be everything my dad wasn’t.”

  He studied her features…high cheekbones, a pert chin and nose…features the sun had kissed with gold. Her long hair glistened like spun silver. Her green eyes stood out like sparkling emeralds—wide, and so sincere he knew he’d touched something deep and true and secret.

  He nodded his appreciation for her honesty and without another word, turned back to the view. His instincts had told him a sunset with Sunny Bates would be a spectacular experience.

  He’d never experienced a truer instinct.

  4

  The sun had set by the time they left the beach house. Sunny breathed a sigh of relief as they slid into the back of limo. With the evening rush hour almost past, traffic was light and within minutes, they were headed down the Santa Monica Freeway to Hollywood.

  “It’s late. Would you like to stop at a restaurant or just order something at the hotel?”

  Jackson tilted his head back to peer at her from beneath its dark brim. All day she’d been wishing for a good look at his eyes, but now, as his gaze swept over her face and settled on her lips, she wished he’d tilt that brim back down. A little frown creased the brow between his eyes, and they narrowed, lending a disturbing intensity. Sunny caught her breath.

  “I’d really enjoy having dinner with you.”

  A streak of pure pleasure shot through Sunny…pleasure she wasn’t supposed to feel. She took pride in caring about all the people she encountered by offering them good Christian fellowship and consideration. But with Jackson, it was different. He was honest and open. He meant every word and no matter how hard she tried, Sunny couldn’t put on her bright, happy, public relations face and deflect his sincere words. She nodded. “I would, too.”

  His smile flashed bright in the shadows of the limousine, and Sunny glowed. She’d earned one of Jackson Maise’s smiles, and she intended to keep it. “Well.” She forced a no-nonsense tone, determined to tamp down on that bright glow. “What sounds good? Are you a meat and potatoes guy or are we talking fast food again?”

  “I think I’d like to try that pho soup you mentioned.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been stuck in freeway traffic. I sampled Fast and Fresh. I have a beach house. I want the full Southern California treatment.”

  “So Cal. We call it So Cal.”

  His lips lifted on one side. “All right. I want the treatment. By the time you’re done with me, I might even have that So Cal accent.”

  “Accent? We don’t have an accent.”

  One of his eyebrows cocked. “You most certainly do. You draw out the vowels, kinda slow and easy like a laid-back day on the beach.”

  Sunny giggled. “OK. I’ll give you that. But you’re one to talk. I noticed you bring out your Tennessee twang when it suits you.”

  He winked. “Only when I’m riled, Ms. Bates. Only when I’m riled.”

  Between that wink and the knowing look in his eyes, Sunny was rattled, and her silly heart skipped a beat. Lord, don’t ever let me get him riled. I don’t think my heart could take it. She used her momentary lapse of straight thinking to give Dan directions to their new destination. Then she pulled out her cell ph
one. “I’ll call ahead and make sure they secure a quiet spot in the restaurant. It’s too late at night for another example of your shock and awe.”

  Jackson chuckled and turned his gaze out the limo window.

  Lee Tran, the owner, met them at the door and escorted them to a quiet corner at the back of the restaurant. They passed secluded booths framed in frosted glass and chrome. Incredible floor-to-ceiling pictures of rice paddies and misty mountains dotted the decor, creating the sense of walking from one misty hill to another. The ultra-elegant decor and seclusion had always impressed Sunny, and tonight was no different.

  She was looking forward to more quiet, thoughtful discussions with Jackson.

  He held the back of her chair in another of those gentlemanly gestures she was beginning to appreciate. Then he slid into the chair opposite, slipped off his hat, and ran a hand through hair that didn’t need touched.

  She wondered, not for the first time, how his hair stayed so perfect under that heavy, dark cowboy hat.

  Fortunately, Lee Tran arrived at their table, and Sunny jerked alert. She’d been staring…again.

  “It is good to have you back, Ms. Bates.” The owner handed her the menu.

  “It’s good to be here, Lee. This is Mr. Maise’s first try at pho.”

  “Ahhh, then we will give him our very best example. May I offer you something to drink?”

  “I’d like sparkling water, please.”

  Jackson nodded. “The same for me.”

  Lee hurried off, seemingly determined to wait on them himself. Obviously, he recognized Jackson and intended to give him top service. Sunny smiled and looped her small bag over the back of her chair while Jackson scoured the menu. She slid hers to the edge of the table. She knew exactly what she wanted.

  Lee returned with sparkling goblets and turned to Sunny expectantly. “I’ll have my usual, Lee. Thank you.”

  He nodded. “And you, sir?”

  “Well, what is your recommended style of pho?”

  “The best is the pho containing beef tendon.”

  “Tendon?” Clearly skeptical, Jackson raised his eyebrows.

  Lee gave a slight bow. “The best. Very rare. Very tender beef.”

  Jackson sighed. “All right. If you say so. Give me a bowl of that and the Yang Chow fried rice. I have to know what Chinese sausage tastes like.”

  “Very good, sir. May I recommend the vegetable egg rolls? They are one of our specialties.”

  “That sounds good and, frankly, Lee, I must try the salted plum drink. Might as well go all out, right?” Jackson paused. “And could you make a second order of everything I had to go just before we leave?”

  Lee gave another slight bow. “You will not be displeased. Thank you. I will make the second order, too.” He took the menus and hurried away without writing down their order.

  Sunny gave him a questioning gaze.

  “Dan is waiting in the limo. He needs to eat, too.” Jackson nudged his chin in the owner’s direction. “That man knows his business. No pencil or pad, and he even remembers what you usually order.”

  “I love this place, for just those reasons. The service always seems personal. That’s hard to find, especially in a place so close to all the tourist spots.” She smiled at him. “And thank you for thinking of Dan. We have an arrangement, when I take a client to dinner, he is allowed to leave the limo and find somewhere to eat. He has a few favorites around here, too. But he loves pho, so he’ll like what you ordered for him.”

  “Ahhh.” Jackson gave her an enigmatic smile. “So what is your usual?”

  “Chicken pho…without the tendon.”

  “What? So you’re making me the guinea pig?”

  “Oh no, I’ve had it before.” Sunny said with a shake of her head and wrinkled nose. “It’s wonderfully tasty, but I just can’t get over the slimy texture.”

  Frowning, Jackson reached for his water. “Great. I’m already losing my appetite.”

  “I’m sorry. We can call him back and change your order—”

  He held up a hand. “I’m kidding. I have a cast iron stomach and some pretty strong taste buds. I think I’ll handle it just fine.” He took another sip. “I know it’s the weekend but I’d like to move into the beach house tomorrow if possible.”

  “That’s no problem. Dan can pick you up. Just tell me a time.”

  “I’ll be looking for my own transportation as well. Driving around L.A. in a limo isn’t my style. Unfortunately, my assistant won’t arrive until Tuesday, possibly Wednesday, so I’ll be depending on Dan until then.”

  “You’ll need some groceries, something to eat. Shall I have one of my assistants pick up something?”

  “It’s Sunday. I don’t want to call anyone in on their day off.”

  Sunny nodded. “Good idea. I’ll do it myself. Just text me a list, and I’ll take care of it right after my normal drop off after church.”

  “Drop off?”

  Sunny looked up. “I found this lovely little white clapboard church right in the middle of Burbank. It’s this pretty little thing with stained glass windows and wooden pews, probably not as big as your house on the beach. It’s situated in an older housing tract and most of its members are seniors who no longer drive. I usually pick up a couple of them and take them home.”

  Jackson leaned to one side of his chair and the look on his face was hard to describe.

  Sunny reached for her water glass, but paused when she felt the heat of that warm, sherry gaze. “What?”

  “I’m trying to wrap my mind around a small white church in the middle of Burbank. I guess I figured all the places of worship here would be mega-churches with massive numbers of visitors. You know, all glass and steel.”

  “I think that’s why I like my little community. It’s quiet and comfortable.”

  He fingered the condensation on his water glass. “Sounds good…like home.”

  His wistful tone gave Sunny pause. Theirs was a business arrangement, plain and simple. What she was thinking might be climbing out on a limb, but still…his wistful tone clutched at her heart…and it was her job to make him feel at ease. “I could pick you up. Then we can shop for your groceries before I take you back,” she spoke before she could talk herself out of it.

  “I don’t want to put you out of your way. You’re already playing chauffeur.”

  “It’s no trouble. I only have one passenger tomorrow, and you’ll love her. Dorothy was a popular big band singer back in the day. She played all the clubs before she retired to raise her children. She has some great stories to tell.”

  Before he could answer, Lee returned with their food. Placing the mid-sized bowl of noodles in front of Jackson, he said, “Enjoy.”

  “Thank You, Lord, for this food.” Sunny said, and Jackson murmured an amen. Then Sunny picked up her chopsticks and snapped them apart. Holding them with one hand, she wiggled the top stick. “Are you in for an adventure, or do you want a spoon?”

  Jackson’s half smile tilted one side of his mouth. “Why not?”

  Snapping his chopsticks loose, he copied Sunny’s grip on the sticks then dove into his bowl of noodles. Quite adeptly he slipped a thin slice of tendon into his mouth.

  “You do that really well for a beginner.”

  “It’s all that guitar pickin’.” He popped another bite into his mouth.

  Sunny held her breath, waiting.

  Finally, he gave a nod. “Lee’s right. Very tasty and very tender. I like it.”

  Sunny shook her head. “Men and their beef. I’ll stick with the chicken, thank you very much.”

  Lee returned with the rest of their meal.

  Jackson liked the egg rolls and pronounced the Chinese sausage very spicy and much to his liking. “In fact,” he leaned back and placed his napkin on the table. “I think I’ve just found a new favorite restaurant.”

  A special glow bubbled its way through Sunny—because of a job well done, of course. It had nothing to do with the warm, engagin
g man, talking so openly to the pleased owner. Sunny insisted on paying for their meal…or rather letting the studio pay for their meal.

  Lee followed them to the door and, just before they stepped out, handed Jackson two large takeout boxes, one for Dan, and one containing egg rolls “for later.”

  “Well, one thing is for sure,” Sunny remarked as they walked to the limo, “you’ve made quite an impression on the L.A. restaurant scene.”

  Jackson held the door for her and then slid into the backseat of the limo. “Let’s hope I can do the same for the studio audiences.”

  Dan’s delight with the takeout box Jackson handed over cemented Sunny’s euphoria. She had a feeling the studio audience was about to be wowed by Jackson Maise.

  ~*~

  The crowds had thinned on Hollywood Boulevard at this late hour, but folks still moved up and down the street, wandering in and out of the museums and eateries.

  It had been a long day, but Jackson was reluctant to see it end. Bed sounded good. Leaving Sunny didn’t. He’d enjoyed every minute of her company, but he wasn’t sure she felt the same. In fact, he was probably just another assignment to her. He didn’t want to be a pest, so he wouldn’t ask for more of her time.

  Shaking his head, he noted the crowd outside the popular TLC Chinese Theatre, formally known as Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. In front, the ever-present super hero characters moved up and down the sidewalk while tourists paid them tips to snap their pictures. One heavy rocker group set up a small amp and started a mini-concert near the corner. Jackson looked beyond the crowds to the pagoda style entrance of the theatre. “That’s one place I would like to visit.” Even to his own ears his tone sounded wistful.

  “You want to put your footprints in John Wayne’s?” Sunny’s surprised tone made Jackson laugh.

  “Not hardly.”

  “I didn’t think that was your style. So you want your picture taken with Spiderman?”

  He tilted his head up to give her a steady look from beneath the brim of his hat. “The theatre, Sunny. It was an architectural beauty for its day. I’d like to see it…minus the picture-snapping crowds.”

  She was quiet for a moment then pulled her phone out of her purse. “I think I can arrange that.”