Ethan (7 page)

“You’re a traditionalist,” she
summed up. She didn’t go into how she’d tried all that already and it was an abject failure. She didn’t provide the gory details of each ending and how they had shaped her decision. She simply stated the truth, “Hollywood and traditional values are not a good mix.”

“True,” he conceded.

She brushed past him, her flip flops slapping against her feet. She did her best to ignore the electricity arcing between them. Because there could be no
them
.

“Where are you going?”

“Surfing,” she called over her shoulder. She needed space. She needed mind over matter—will over want. She needed to get a firm grip on her desire for Ethan and channel it back into her dream of a baby. And she damned that voice in her head that demanded why she couldn’t have both.

I
n the guest bedroom, Shae slipped out of her clothes and into her swimsuit. She pushed back into her shoes and rummaged through the closet and drawers, looking for her beach wrap. She knew she’d brought it with her—she’d draped it over the back seat of the car to dry on the drive up from L.A. Which was probably where it remained. And that left her with a dilemma. She could parade through Ethan’s house, clad only in her red bikini, or she could wrap herself in a towel, like a shrinking violet—with just an overnight case, she was limited in her choices. And then she thought about his comment, how she didn’t “really” look pregnant. From his tone, she knew he’d meant not
too
pregnant.

Well, Shae was a woman with curves. And maybe they were generous or maybe it was
her short stature that made them seem so. Either way, she decided to let him see how perfectly not pregnant she was. She looped her hair into a pony tail, picked up her beach bag and slung it over her shoulder, then padded down the hall toward the kitchen.

She heard him in the refrigerator, th
e clink of glass bottles and the deep timbre of his voice as he spoke.

To whom? she wondered. Eva had left that first night, returning to her boyfriend with the hope of making up. Maybe that hadn’t worked out.

Shae entered the kitchen and had to scan it twice before she spotted him behind the island, crouched over a spill with a wad of paper towel. Shattered glass lay on the tiled floor. He muttered something about frustration fucking with his coordination. She left that alone but couldn’t hold back a smile of deep satisfaction.

“Need some help?” She grabbed a heavy dish towel and began collecting the bigger pieces
of an amber beer bottle. “Guinness Draught. Good choice.”

“I was putting them on ice,” he explained. “I didn’t bother when I thought you were,
well, pregnant.”

“You wouldn’t drink in front of me?”

“Of course not.”

“You’re not the one pregnant.”

He gave her a thoughtful look and replied, “It isn’t right.”

That sense of honor she’d discovered
in the screenplay. It came across strongly in the character of Ethan and she was learning that it was a big part of the real man, too. She had her work cut out for her, she realized, if she was going to keep the two separate—if she
could
keep the two separate.  She shrugged. Anything autobiographical was rife with booby traps.

“You’ll make a woman very happy one day.”

“You think so?”

She scooped up the towel and glass and headed for the trash can. “You sound doubtful.” But how could he be? He was sexy as hell and accomplished in his field. He had a sense of humor
, lived honorably. . .

“
Tina cheated on me,” he confided. He stopped mopping up the mess and looked up at her. His green eyes were clear, steady. “You’re going to read about that eventually.”

Shae paused and worked on assimilating that piece of history into what she already knew.
“Why?”

“I think that’s what’s b
othering me. The why. The whole, wasn’t-I-enough-for-her thing.”

“How do you know she cheated
?” she probed. “And if it’s true, the why could be all the time you spent apart. I don’t think I could do that. I want a family of my own so bad, but I wouldn’t settle for a few minutes between deployments.”

“Why are you giving up then?” he countered.

He stood up and though there were a few feet between them, Shae
felt
the size and shape of him. Ethan was an imposing figure. He had a quiet control about him she supposed he perfected in the military. Add to that a body that was strong, defined, with arms and shoulders packed with muscle, and he was, well, a force to be reckoned with.  With his mood turned serious, it cast a heaviness over the room. Shae could tell from his countenance—that grimness was back, making his facial features look like they were set in stone—that he wasn’t ready to go into the why, or the discovery of his wife’s infidelity.

She considered all this and gave him the space he needed, picking up instead on the question he had asked her.

“I’m not
giving up. I’m making my dream come true.” At least part of that dream. She

hadn’t given up on love and marriage, just accepted that it wasn’t for her, right now.
She dumped the glass and shook out the towel.

“But a husband, a father, is a big part of family.”

She nodded. “True. But it didn’t happen for me.”

“How old are you, Shae?”

“Thirty in seven weeks.”

“You sound like you’re working a deadline.”

“I am.” She handed him the dish towel and pushed the strap of her beach bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be back later,” she promised.

“Hold up.” He spread his arms
wide and Shae noticed that he’d changed into a pair of board shorts. “I’m coming with.”

“You’re coming surfing with me?”

“Absolutely. You have a double rack. My board’s already by your SUV.”

Chapter Seven

The water was warm enough they didn’t need wet suits. Ethan was sure he’d come to regret this. While Shae
had walked through his house in a boner-inspiring red string bikini, it’d been safer ground to lose his head.  On the waves, he’d take a beating.

He’d spent three days fighting
an increasing attraction and chasing bitter recriminations about his character around in his head—lusting after a woman who was carrying another man’s child was so not okay.

When she’d corrected him on his very easy assumption, he’d been like a balloon that managed
to break away from the bunch. He’d felt a freedom that was exciting and terrifying.

He was familiar with the sexual ne
ed. It was the fear that threw him. And he refused to look anywhere but straight at it.

He was developing feelings for Shae.
He liked her. He respected her bold approach to life, the tenacity that helped her climb to the top of her profession and the talent that kept her there. But she was more than that. He’d experienced first-hand her compassion, how she patiently walked a winding path in order to lead him to revelation. She didn’t judge, she encouraged. Shae ran deep and tapped into that well of emotion when she gave of herself.

And that was frightening.
Because it called to him. He wanted to fall into Shae.

But would there be a soft landing? Or would he experience another crash and burn?

It didn’t surprise him that she was seeking alternative methods to become a mother. She didn’t get to her pinnacle position in the industry by sitting on the sidelines wishing she had an awesome career. What surprised him was that it bothered him so much. It was like an itch between the shoulder blades that was growing into a burn, because he couldn’t reach it.

Why the hell w
ould he care that she was about to become a mother through the seed of another, unless there was more at play here than a sexual attraction?

He stripped off his t-shirt and dropped it on his towel. And though he didn’t want to do it, he
gave into need, turned and watched Shae slide out of her beach wrap.

She had a French belly.

He’d noticed earlier, of course. But then several feet had separated them and they’d been surrounded by broken glass and stainless steel. Now warm sand was sifting through their toes, waves washed up on shore with a timeless rhythm, and the sultry sea air was like a caress on over-sensitive skin.

The setting was alluring and Shae’s curvy body was a
searing temptation.

He couldn’t be a breast man. He wasn’t at the mercy of long legs or a rear with
a lift and sway that made his dick jump up and beg for a stroke. No, he was a goner for the gently rounded stomach of a woman who carried it with confidence. The curve of her belly called for his lips, his fingertips. He would fill her navel with his tongue and feel her squirm as his touch reached deeper, to her very core, and tickled her clit. She wore a belly piercing, a dangling chain of three diamond beads cast in platinum. It was small, delicate, like the woman herself. If he tugged lightly on it, would she rise up in his arms, seeking more?

And that easy, he was sporting wood
again. No half-measures for him, not where Shae was concerned. His cock strained against his trunks, his arousal visible to anyone who cared to look.

Great. He could add public embarrassment to his list of accomplishments.

“Are you okay?” Her head was tipped back, so she could give him the full effect of her merriment. She knew exactly what she did to him. “I don’t
really
look pregnant, do I, Ethan?” she taunted.

He hated it when his words were thrown at him.
He’d made a stupid comment. He’d been careless. He knew better, having survived a childhood populated by sensitive females. Instead of backing down, though, and apologizing as he should, he stepped closer. His toes touched hers through the sand. He shifted further and his thigh brushed the soft skin between hers. He watched her lips part as awareness heated her her face.

“Pregnant? No. Lush? D
efinitely.” Her head came up to his shoulder and he thought about how easy it would be to lift her, to shift her bottoms away from her sex and sink into her.  It wouldn’t happen here, now. He wasn’t into PDA and certainly nothing risky, but damn she tempted him. “Curvy. Hot,” he continued. “Your breasts make my balls ache,” he admitted, “but this makes my knees weak.” He stroked her belly with his fingertips and felt her tremble. He followed the curve of her stomach to the edge of the bikini top, slipped a finger beneath the skimpy fabric and slid it across the underside of her breast.  He watched her nipple pucker against her suit. “It’s gonna happen, Shae.”

Her eyelids grew heavy and she stared at him from beneath her lashes, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted and glisten
ing. Damn if that wasn’t a take-me look. She swayed toward him, until mere inches separated their bodies.  She didn’t try to hide her body’s reaction to him and he appreciated that.

“Maybe,” she conceded.

His laughter was short, husky. “You’re going to fight this.”

“To the end,” she assu
red him, but her voice was soft, breathy. The kind of voice that would whisper intimate directives and then praise his skill and aptitude.  It worked on his cock as effectively as if it was the stroke of her hand.

“I’m going to cool off.” He
wasn’t looking forward to it, the complete shock to his system that would temporarily shrivel his member and return higher order thinking. But it was necessary.  “Give me a few minutes.”

He grabbed his board and strode down the sand. He didn’t stop when the water swirled around his feet. He didn’t give himself a moment to adjust to the slightly chilly temperature. He wade
d in until the surf was wrapped around his hips and he was able to float his board beside him. He guided it up and over a wave, then boarded and began paddling toward the horizon.

It was almost seven o’clock. Sunset
was a good ninety minutes away, but the sky was already descending. Yellow and orange streamers floated overhead and nothing would convince him they were something as simple as clouds. He loved the ocean. The mystery in its depths, the salty air that cleansed him from the inside out. Even the sometimes fierce momentum of the water. The ride was thrilling, but the anticipation was the best part.

An
d it was doing its job. The heat that burned through his brain cells and ignited his blood had dampened. He still felt it there, the way an oil fire burned just below the surface of the water, but it was contained. His trunks fit a hell of a lot better, too.

He watched the swells and positioned himself for
a curler that was building north. When the crest developed just a lip of froth, and the trough started widening, he turned his board and rose to his feet.

The pick-
up, with its belly-drop and roll, was exhilarating. The wave continued to curl until Ethan was inside the green room—a full cover-up tube. He crouched and rode the wave blind until it finally crashed over his shoulders. When the foam cleared his eyes he was in shallow water and Shae was standing several yards in front of him, bathed in a golden light and grinning at him full-force. Every surfer loved riding the tube.

He
picked up his board and clambered through the surf.

“Lucky,” she drawled, when he got close enough to hear her.

“The waves are good tonight,” he agreed.

“Rippin’.” Her sassy smile poked fun at her surfer lingo.

“So, let’s do it,” he invited, and waited for her to fall into step beside him.

The next hour was educational for Ethan. Shae was a petite powerhouse. She caught wave after wave,
rode most of them to their finish in the foamy surf, took a few dunkings, and one time dropped about eight feet after a late take off left her suspended above a deceptively placid ocean. She sputtered to the surface, caught his eye, and laughed unabashedly at her own foolishness.

Ethan paddled over to her.

“That was gnarley,” he said.

“Completely,” she confirmed.
“Just this side of festy.” She erupted in peals of laughter. “That’s all I know. I was never really big on the lingo. I didn’t hang out with the surfer dudes. It’s always been a solitary sport for me.”

“It’s the closest I’ll come to meditation,” he agreed. He
had
hung with surfers when he was in high school, but afterwards his time on the water had become solace to him, even before his marriage began disintegrating and Tina died. There was something restorative about being just out of touch with the real world and all its demands.

He watched her swing a leg over her board and lift herself to straddling it. He
r body was toned, slick with salt water, and he traced a droplet with his eyes from just beneath her ear, down the slope of her neck and into the deep valley between her breasts. He felt the pressure build at the base of his cock and forced himself to tear his gaze from her body and focus on the shore some fifty or sixty yards away.

“This is my favorite place to be,” he said. “I’ve surfed eleven oceans
and they’re all different but all rejuvenating. How ‘bout you?”

She sh
ook her head. “This is it. The Pacific. I was too busy building my career.” A frown pleated her brow. “I guess I missed out on a lot of things.”

“Would you change anything?”

“I am changing things,” she reminded him. “But the past? No. I love my job. There’s nothing like putting words on paper and then seeing them brought to life on film. And I get to do that. I get paid obscenely well for the privilege, too.” She turned toward him, her eyes sincere. “I know how lucky I am. I worked hard for it and maybe I gave up too much—we’ll see—but I get a lot in return.”

“And you’ll get your baby.”

She nodded. “I will.”

“So maybe it won’t be so
bad, doing without a husband?” he posed.

Her lips pursed as she thought about that. “My parents have a great relationship. They’re friends and sparing  p
artners. Lovers but equally passionate about their individual pursuits. I’ve always wanted to find that. I don’t want to think about that never happening for me.”

He’d never had anything like that. Not with Tina. Certainly not since. When he was married they were always
playing a game of catch up whenever he was on leave, or managed to get a brief stateside assignment—until one of them took their piece off the board. He thought it was probably him, but didn’t want it to be. He’d pledged his heart to Tina. Had he not fulfilled his promises?

“And you never came close?” he asked.

Shae thought about that—he could see the sunlight and shadows in her eyes.

“I thought I had.” She smiled with fondness. “He was
a writer, too. Still struggling.”

“But you had already arrived?”

“Pre-Oscar,” she told him. “But I was sought-after. Producers were running storylines by me, courting my interest. I had my pick of projects. And enough clout to change things as I saw fit. It was a great place to be.”

“Unless your love
r is still pounding on doors.”

“Yeah.” Her smiled dipped and Ethan would swear the sun had slipped deeper into the horizon. “It’s no fun when one of you shines and the other is still undiscovered gold.”

“The pressure split you up?”

Shae shook her head. “It would have, I’
m sure. But we never got to that point.” Color tinted her cheeks but she looked him squarely in the eye when she confided, “He used me. As soon as he got ‘the call,’ I was history.”

“Idiot,” Ethan said. He reached out and trailed his fingers from her shoulder to her wrist. “And blind, too.”

She agreed. “All he could see was success.”

“Did he find that?”

“Not then.” She shifted on her board as the water undulated beneath them. “Not that I’ve heard about since.”

Ethan nodded. “Success is often determined by
a person’s character.” But not always. He knew of several lesser life forms that were doing well in Hollywood.

“I like when that happens,” she agreed. “I remember standing under the stars and begging for my lucky break, but it took a long time and a lot of failed proposals before it came.”
She looked up at him. “How about you?”

“I started as a consultant, working on
smaller projects at first. But it didn’t take long for word to spread. I became the military expert of Hollywood. There aren’t too many of us, so I don’t know how big an accomplishment that was. But it gave me the in and the right people knew my name, so when I started bidding on bigger projects, for better positions, it paid off.”

“
What came first? Director, producer—?”

“
Director. And only after I put up a few indies, pulled in a few awards at
Sundance
and
Cannes
.” He eased closer, adjusting as the current pulled at their boards. “But you’re right about having your vision realized. There’s nothing else like it.”