Exposing Alix (26 page)

“So, do I kill him now or wait until my movie is done?”

Alix laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

“Ryker. What’s going on between you two? He hovers over
you like a jealous boyfriend all night, practically punches Anthony Sloane in
the nose, and then you disappear in a room together. When you come out, he’s
wearing a thundercloud, and you look like death warmed over.”

Alix sighed. She knew she couldn’t keep anything from
Gunther. “It’s complicated. I’d rather not talk about it.”

He waited. “So?”

“I
said
I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I know what you said. I’m ignoring it. I want to know the
truth. Did he hurt you? Because if he did, I’m going to kill the bastard. You
know that, don’t you?”

Alix pushed herself to standing. She started to move
around the room, collecting empty glasses and setting them on one of the buffet
tables. “You can’t kill him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“The caterers will be here tomorrow morning to clean that
up.”

“I know. I need to keep my hands busy.” She gathered a
handful of napkins and threw them on top of a small china plate and set that
beside the glasses.

“You don’t have to give me the gory details,” he said,
voice softening. “I just want to help. He’s a hard man, Alix. I don’t want you
to get hurt.”

She chuckled weakly. “I’m too tough for that. You should
know that by now.”

Alix continued to roam the room, collecting trash and
dishes. Gunther sat silently, his icy-blue eyes soft as they watched.

“Did you get laid, at least?” he said.

Alix spun around, mouth open. “Gunther!”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Look, he’s a
good-looking man. I could understand if you got carried away.”

Alix snorted. “Now that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard
all night.”

“You’ve been alone for a long time,” Gunther observed.

Alix pushed back a lock of hair and stifled a fresh wave
of tears. “I don’t want to talk about my love life. I’m happy in Oregon. I know
it isn’t the life you think I should be living, but I’m fulfilled. You might as
well accept that now, because I don’t think it’s going to change any time
soon.”

“So you’re giving up? You and Ryker have a falling out,
and you’re giving up?”

“There was no falling out,” she said, keeping her voice
steady. “There was nothing to fall out
of
. And my life has been settled
for a while. You’re the only one who can’t see that.”

He stood and began to help her, carrying over to the
buffet table a half-empty glass of wine and a plate still bearing two limp crab
cakes. “Alix, do you know when was the first time you hugged me? I mean,
initiated the hug. Not just hugged me back.”

She narrowed her brows. “What does that have to do with
anything?”

“Humor me. Guess how long it was.”

She didn’t have to guess. She remembered. She’d run over
to him at her high school graduation and wrapped her arms around his neck,
almost inadvertently. She’d been horror-stricken when she realized what she’d
done, terrified he would push her away. And then infinitely relieved when he
didn’t.

“It was graduation,” he said, filling in the silence.
“More than three years after we’d met, a year after I’d come to check you out
of the hospital.”

She paused, swirling melting ice around in a cup. “Ungrateful
little thing, wasn’t I?”

“No, you were a scared little thing,” he corrected gently.
“No one taught you how to trust. No one showed you what it was like to depend
on someone or to love them. What worries me,
liebling
, is that you still
don’t quite have the hang of it. ”

She jerked her head up. His words were uncannily close to
Ryker’s. “What do you mean? I adore you and you know it. Even when you are
being a busybody.”

“I don’t mean with me. I mean with other men.” He walked
over to the picture of the couple that hung over the mantel and dominated the
room. He studied it as he spoke. “I knew after the miscarriage that you needed
space to heal. I even encouraged you to photograph weddings because I thought
that way you’d have some exposure to couples who loved each other. But along
the way, the wires got crossed. I think you gave up on reality. I think what
happened to you was so frightening, you figured out a way to ensure it would
never happen again.”

Cold fingers trailed up the back of her spine. She’d
barely gotten herself under control after Ryker’s attack by blacking out his
words. She’d told herself he was wrong. Crazy. It only hurt because she wanted
to trust him and now she knew she couldn’t. But she hadn’t anticipated a new
attack from Gunther.

“That’s absurd. I just decided not to have sex again until
I fell in love. I don’t see how that’s giving up on reality. I would be
thrilled to find someone. I just don’t have any luck with men. Lots of women
have a hard time finding someone. It isn’t like I’m some kind of freak.”

“Of course you aren’t. The problem is that I think deep
down you’ve decided it’s never going to happen. Your vow of celibacy has turned
into a kind of crutch. It’s become the excuse you use to push men away. You
used to be terrified to say no, and now I think you’re terrified to say yes.”

Alix shook her head. At least, unlike Ryker, he hadn’t
said she didn’t believe in love. “You’re wrong. I just haven’t found the right
guy.”

“The way you’re going, you never will. You’re living
through that damned book, Alix. Every time you take a new set of pictures it
gives you a fresh excuse to lock yourself in that cabin and avoid putting
yourself out there. I’m not blaming you, because you did what you had to do to
survive. But you can’t love without risk. That’s the part you haven’t figured
out. You’re trying to find the perfect, risk-free relationship
before
you
commit your heart and your body, and it just isn’t out there. I’m sorry, but it
just isn’t.”

Alix rubbed her biceps. “I don’t understand why you’re
saying all this. Do you want me to sleep with Ryker? Is that it? Are you
telling me I should throw myself at Ryker so I can have the experience of being
hurt? I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in that kind of life lesson.”

Gunther walked over and held her at arms’ length. “No. I’m
not telling you to sleep with Ryker. I would much prefer that you don’t,
actually, because I would miss him if I had to kill him. But I am telling you
that the path you’re on is leading nowhere. I just want you to be happy,
liebling
.
Is that so crazy?”

She leaned forward, collapsing into his arms. “No,” she
said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “No. It isn’t crazy at all.”

#

Alix walked into the studio just before six a.m. on
Monday. Too bloody early after yet another night with little sleep. Her stomach
churned with anxiety as she contemplated seeing Ryker again. After a long,
painful weekend of reliving her conversation with him and with Gunther, part of
her wanted nothing more than to hide in her room and cry the day away. But the
other part—the part with pride—was determined to show Ryker that he
hadn’t hurt her. That his words hadn’t cut right to the heart of every fear and
doubt she’d ever had and those she hadn’t even known existed.

Ryker stood beside Amir and Frank, pointing toward the
fake window at the back of the stage. The set was surprisingly busy. The first
morning she’d been there, it had just been the two of them. Today, Frank, the
director of photography, was there, along with camera crew, gaffer, grips, the
caterers, Nick, who she hadn’t seen since her first day on the set, and a
number of black-clad young people whose purpose seemed to be standing around
looking bored.

Ryker didn’t notice she was there until Nick waved. Then
he turned, and a wry smile touched one side of his mouth as his eyes flicked
over her loose, threadbare jeans, faded NYU film school T-shirt, and thick
glasses. As usual, his presence hit her like a punch to the gut, the air
seemingly sucked from her lungs at the sight of the full lips, dark skin, and
broad shoulders she’d touched so intimately just a few days before.

But that part of their relationship was over. They’d come
too far to go down that path ever again.

She hurried the rest of the way to the coffee table and
focused on looking nonchalant and unconcerned when Ryker started toward her.

“I thought about it over the weekend and decided you were
right,” he said when he reached her side. “No sense in pushing things too hard
today. We’ll get some film this morning, and then after lunch, we’ll take the
afternoon off and go out to Marina del Ray. Gunther offered to take us for a
cruise.”

“Oh, I see. Sounds lovely.” She fought the sudden urge to
pour her coffee all over his perfectly groomed hair and wrinkle-free linen
shirt. How could he look so unconcerned? So off-hand? How dare he not have dark
circles under his eyes, a stuffy nose and headache like she did from sobbing
into her pillow until three in the morning? “I guess I should have brought my
boat shoes.”

Ryker chuckled, but it was an uneasy laugh, punctuated by
a cough. While she added cream to her coffee, he cleared his throat and jammed
his hands into his pockets.

“Are you, er, okay? I mean, is everything all right?” He
shifted on his feet.

“What do you mean?” she asked, wanting for a moment to
watch him squirm.

“I mean…” He glanced around the room and dropped his
voice. “I mean, after Friday. Things got a little out of hand. I just wanted to
make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” Though it would have been fun to keep him
dangling in discomfort, her pride wouldn’t allow it. “There’s really nothing to
talk about.”

He frowned. “I had no right to say those things. I’m not
sure what came over me. It was the whole day—Lena, the party, Gunther… I
wanted to apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” she said casually. “Can we drop it,
please?

“You’re sure?” He sounded painfully eager.

She forced an easy shrug. “I thought from the start that
it was a mistake for us to get involved. Friday night was…well, it was Friday
night. We got too personal. So let’s forget it, okay? Get back to work?”

He nodded vigorously. “Sure. Fine. Whatever you want.” He
started talking, with visible relief, about whether it would be better to shoot
the scene from Lena’s point of view or Jake’s, and whether they should open
with a frame of the paperweight that Lena would later use on one of the thugs
her brother sent after Jake.

Alix stared at his dark hair, the long, elegant fingers he
waved as he spoke, and decided that she hated him.

She hated his self-assured cynicism. She hated the way he
made her feel—the longing, the aching need for his touch. She even hated
the way she trusted him and the way his darkness made her question the very
core of her beliefs.

And just to add to the pile, she hated him for the fact
that she’d been ashamed, ever since Friday night, for the way she’d responded
to Anthony Sloane. She now regretted every interview she’d done, every chance
she’d missed to proclaim her beliefs to the world. Not because he was right
about the way she felt, but because he was wrong, and she had done nothing to
correct him.

But there was nothing she could do about that now. She
could only look to the future. The next time the reporters called, she’d tell
them the truth. She’d say all the things she told Ryker, and damn the
consequences.

Meanwhile, life would go on as it had before. Ryker was
running from her as fast as his legs could go, and she could hardly blame him.
They were the most unlikely of couples. He was nothing more than an actor with
an unfortunate family history and a terminal fear of relationships. He wanted
nothing to do with love. For her, love was the only thing that truly mattered.

She didn’t know what to think about Gunther’s accusations.
She supposed it was possible, in a small way, that he was right. She was scared
of being hurt. But she didn’t believe that she had been pushing men away or
that she was burying herself in her photos because she was avoiding having a
real relationship. After all, look at what had happened with Ryker. If she’d
truly been pushing him away, they wouldn’t have ended up leaning against a
doorway together, his pants around his ankles.

She was here to make an easy hundred grand and then get
back to her book as soon as possible. That was the only way she’d be able to put
the doubts Ryker and Gunther raised to rest. She didn’t need to sleep with
Ryker or fall in love with him for love to be real. She just needed to finish
the damn book. It didn’t matter if she put the name Daisy or Alix on it. She
wasn’t scared to believe in it. She just needed to finish it.

Not to prove it to Ryker.

To prove it to herself.

Lena adjusted her sunglasses and
rearranged her position on the front deck of Gunther’s gleaming white yacht.
Carefully, she fixed her bikini top so it lay smoothly over her breasts, and
arched her back so her stomach appeared even flatter than it was. Her hip bones
jutted nicely from the waistband of her low-rise capri pants. The breeze
ruffled her hair, which sparkled with chestnut highlights in the intense
sunlight of late afternoon.

Everything was perfect.

She glanced over at Jake, hoping he would give her one of
those smoldering looks she’d been pretending not to notice all morning. When
they left the dock, she’d made sure to take off her top slowly, right next to
him, and he’d leaned over when no one was looking and breathed in her ear,
“You’ll do that for me later tonight, won’t you?”

She shivered with anticipation. Even the thought of being
alone with him caused a pool of liquid heat to form between her thighs. Having
sex with Jake hadn’t solved anything, of course. She didn’t trust him, refused
to look at him while they made love, and certainly had no intention of picking
up where they left off, as he seemed to suggest.