Dreaming Of Your Love (Hollywood Legends #3) (17 page)

“Don’t
worry, Mr. Freedman. Callie understands. Besides, look at Colt. He’s having a
great time.”

As
though sensing her attention, Colt looked up from signing his last autograph.
His blue eyes brimmed with good humor. When he winked, Sable felt it down to
her toes.

The
man wasn’t catnip. He was hundred-proof whiskey. Dangerous and highly
addictive. A woman with an ounce of self-preservation would run for the hills.
Sable had always been good at protecting herself. But she wondered if this time
she may have met her match.

“THIS IS CRAZY.”

“Not
crazy, practical. I won’t need another trip to the grocery store for a month.”

“Try
a year.”

“These
are staples.” Colt added a can of tuna fish to the cupboard. “Now when it’s
three in the morning and I have a craving for water chestnuts, I’m all set.”

“Is
that a problem you’ve run into? Desperate Chinese condiment cravings?”

“No.
But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Boy
Scout,” Sable whispered under her breath.

“I
heard that.” Colt spun her around. His kiss was sweet and playful. “I’ll finish
putting these things away. Why don’t you pick some music? Something happy.”

“I
can do that.”

Happy
sounded good. Right. After Colt’s marathon autograph signing session, it took
them another forty-five minutes to go through the checkout line, load the
groceries into Colt’s car, drive to the loft, and lug the bags inside.

Seven
bags. Filled to the top. Colt was flushed with success. Sable was amazed.

The
success of her efforts to cut down on his purchases was debatable. True, there
weren’t a dozen cans of Span—only two. And two boxes of Twinkies. And two bags
of salted in-shell peanuts. Sable had no idea when Colt had acquired those. Or
why he would want them.

Two
of everything. Colt Landis. The
Custom Foods
Noah. Sable grinned,
listening to him hum as he stocked his kitchen shelves. She wouldn’t worry
unless he began plans for an ark.

Colt’s
iPod was hooked up to a state of the art sound system. The bells and whistles
would be intimidating to the uninitiated, but Sable had plenty of experience
with high-end electronics. Her bosses at H&W were techno-geeks. They were
constantly updating anything and everything. If she wasn’t savvy before she joined
the company, she soon was. Or went crazy. Luckily for Sable, she was a fast
learner. She scrolled through several playlists, the titles making her laugh.

Most
began with
Songs For
. Songs for a rainy day. Songs for chilling out.
Exercising. Dinner party. Seduction. The last one made her pause.

“You
need mood music to get a woman into bed?”

“Goddamn,
Garrett. He put that on there as a joke. I delete it, but it keeps popping
back.”

Amused,
and intrigued, Sable looked at the titles.

I
Changed Her Oil, She Changed My Life
.
I Wanna Whip Your Cow
.
I’ve Got the Hungries For Your Love and I’m
Waiting In Your Welfare Line.

“These
can’t be real.”

“They
are. Play one.”

It
was a tough choice. In the end, Sable closed her eyes and did a musical version
of pin the tail on the donkey. Her
pin
hit
Bridge Washed Out, I Can’t
Swim and My Baby’s On the Other Side.

“That
might be the god-awfullest song ever recorded.”

“At
least one of the top five. The rest of the contenders are on that list.”

“Garrett
had way too much time on his hands. Tell him to get a hobby.”

“Tormenting
his brothers is his hobby. Want a glass of wine?”

Sable
glanced over her shoulder. Colt held up two bottles. One red, one white.

“White,
please.”

Colt
opened a drawer. He rummaged around until he found the corkscrew then deftly
opened the bottle.

“These
days Jade fills up most of Garrett’s free time. But he hasn’t given up
completely. Last week I received an email inviting me to join the next cast of
Dancing
with the Stars
.”

“Was
it fake?”

“Completely
legit.” Colt joined her, two glasses in hand. “Garrett had his agent contact
the show’s producers.”

“Were
they pissed off when you turned them down?”

“Who
said I turned them down?”

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 easy 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.