Exposing Alix (8 page)

She whimpered, unable to do more to free herself from the
spell he had laid. His lips followed a moment later, starting with the
vulnerable flesh behind her ear and cascading down her neck to the hollow at
the base. His mouth was warm and gentle, his lips achingly familiar. Large,
strong hands traced a path of fire along her back until they reached around to
circle her waist. Then she felt his thumbs brush lightly against the undersides
of her breasts.

“Ahh,” she exhaled, jerking at the shock of pleasure at
his touch.

“We could do it again. We could be that way again.” The
words were halfway buried in her flesh, his mouth swooping lower to touch her
collarbones and then glide back up her neck to the edge of her jaw.

He was approaching her mouth. If he touched her mouth,
she’d be lost.

“Jake, stop.” She put her hands against his chest, but
that was a mistake because then she was flooded with all new sensations: his
muscles, the heat and strength of them exploding under her fingers; the smooth
cotton of his shirt teasing her, begging her to lift it, to put flesh to flesh.
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” she said, her voice half sob, half moan.

“Leave you alone? I go to sleep, and I think about you. I
wake up, and I think about you. I need to kiss you, Lena. You’re driving me
crazy. You’re so cold, but I know that’s not you. It’s killing me.”

Without warning, his mouth covered hers, and time stopped.
It was a familiar dance, yet totally new. She was hesitant, stiff. He spent
minutes just softening her lips with his coaxing and teasing, until they parted
and his tongue darted inside. Then they were dancing and spinning, heat like
fireworks popping and fading, only to explode even higher and brighter a second
later.

“Why can’t we do this for the cameras, Lena? Isn’t it all
still here?” He paused for only a moment between kisses.

Like a rush of cold water, the magic was gone.

She pushed against his shoulders, hard now, all business.
“This is about the movie, isn’t it? You’re trying to get a better performance
out of your leading lady and thought perhaps if you seduced her, you might get
that performance.”

“No, no!” He looked appalled, and Lena had to remind
herself that he was an actor—his profession hinged on being able to
deliver performances like this. “I just don’t see why… Shit, Lena. I’m serious
about this. I want to give it another try. Not because of the movie, just
because of us.”

“Right.” Her mouth twisted in a cynical smile. “So we get
together while we’re filming the movie. Our love scenes get hotter. The public
gets a great story about reunited lovers, and the movie gets a better buzz.
Very smart. I only wish I’d thought of it myself.”

“That isn’t it. Not at all,” he ground out.

“I’m just wondering how long it lasts,” she continued. He
clenched his jaw, an expression she knew from years of experience meant he was
genuinely upset, but she was unable to stop the words flowing from her in an
angry torrent. “How long until you replace me with someone younger and cuter?
How long till you find some new twenty-year-old you can’t resist? Will you dump
me straight off this time, or shall we try a three-way first?”

“You’re sick,” he said, thrusting his hands deep in his
pockets as he turned away. “You’re a gorgeous woman, at the top of your game.
You’ve got everything, but you can’t trust anyone. Poor little rich girl. I
made a mistake back then, okay? I kissed a girl, and it wasn’t you. But that’s
all it was. A kiss. A mistake that had nothing to do with you and everything to
do with me being a stupid, immature idiot. But you’re so damn insecure you’ll
never see that, will you? Fine. Forget I tried.”

He stalked out the door without another look.

Lena slammed the door behind him. “Fine,” she shouted to
the empty room. “Just fine! I didn’t need him then, and I don’t need him now.”

She paced up and down the trailer, recounting all the
reasons she hated him, all the ways he’d hurt her, reminded herself of the
anguish she went through with every tabloid picture that surfaced of him
kissing That Woman, lips planted on hers at exactly the same angle he used on
Lena. The hurt had never gone away, really, and when she conjured it up, like
this, it spilled out in dark, black waves until she was filled with it, filled
with the righteous anger that told her he was a jerk, a cad, an ass of the
first order, and she was better off without him.

But she couldn’t stop the tears. They started in a steady
trickle, then a deep, indrawn breath, and finally she collapsed on the sofa,
holding a pillow over her mouth to muffle the sound. She couldn’t trust him.
She could never trust him.

Not again. Not ever.

Alix followed Ryker’s
vintage-looking Mercedes as it pulled away from Tiger Lily’s. She wished he
drove a flashy sports car so she could hate it and hate him for having it, but
he didn’t. He was far too interesting to fit into any of her stereotypes, no
matter how much she wanted to place him in one. Throughout the meal, just when
she thought she’d figured him out, he’d surprise her. Like what he’d said about
Casablanca
—how could a man with a heart of ice appreciate one of
the most romantic movies of all time? And the way he made sure she had bread,
and frowned and apologized when his cell phone rang during dinner.

Little things.

The way he’d stopped pouring wine for them after one glass
because he didn’t want to drive under the influence.

The way he’d smiled graciously and signed autographs for a
table full of gawking tourists, deflecting attention away from her subtly. He
had not made a point of excluding her but nonetheless shielded her from
scrutiny.

He held the door for her.

Stood up when she excused herself to go to the ladies
room.

It was like having dinner with Prince Charming, not a
swollen-headed movie star. Which irritated her to no end.

They were back on the Bolvana lot by nine. The sun was
falling behind the horizon, and the heat of the day had quickly dissipated, leaving
behind a cool stillness. Ryker pulled into a space in front of the dun-colored
bungalow that held Gunther’s offices. The building was apparently intended to
look like a single-family home, though the generic brown exterior and
bedraggled hedge did little to further that image.

Alix parked and walked over to his car, feeling ridiculous
in her miniskirt and heels. She’d bought the dress a year ago for the sole
purpose of placating Gunther. Every time she visited him, he nagged her
incessantly to dress up and go out to a few parties. Finally, she’d agreed.
She’d told herself the dress was just another way of blending in, another
costume she needed to learn to wear. As Ryker had pointed out, she attracted
more attention when she dressed in her usual jeans and T-shirts than when she
dressed to the nines, and she had to admit, it was nice to feel feminine once
in a while. But unlike her dark glasses and baggy shirts, it was a costume that
never quite seemed to fit. She always felt on the verge of tipping over in her
high heels and had to fight the desire to hunch over and shield her breasts
from view.

Ryker held up a ring of keys. “Gunther lets me use his
viewing room when we’re shooting. It’s more comfortable than watching the
dailies in the editing room.”

Alix nodded. She was nervous, more nervous than she’d been
in a long time. Ryker wasn’t one of the male floozies who’d hit on her hundreds
of times before. He was an electric male, dominating her gaze with broad
shoulders and narrow waist, dark honey-colored skin, and sensual lips.

He touched her back and guided her into the building.
Currents of heat ran from the edges of his fingertips through the soft silk of
her dress.

Alix bit her lip and nursed the tiny cut she inflicted
with a worried tongue. They were here to work. Ryker knew that as well as she
did. Other than his eyes straying occasionally to her cleavage—which, she
had to admit, she appreciated—he had been a perfect gentleman at dinner,
giving no hint that he wanted anything more than to establish a good working
relationship.

Thank goodness.

The interior hall was dark, but Ryker strode forward
without pause, guiding Alix with a touch on her elbow. They passed two opened
doors and then entered a room with a collection of tiny lights glowing from a
console on the wall. Ryker hit a switch beside the door that illuminated a bank
of bulbs above a large screen. A couch sat in the middle of the room, flanked
on either side by a black leather Eames chair and a matching upholstered
armchair. A tall counter with a smooth marbled surface curved around the far
left corner of the room, with three silver barstools guarding the front. A
crystal decanter half filled with amber liquid sat on one end.

Ryker picked up a remote control and motioned for Alix to
sit down. “Gunther brought me here when he introduced me to
Garden of Eden
.
It’s quieter than the editing room and much more comfortable.”

She looked around the room for a moment and contemplated
sitting in one of the armchairs. Too obvious? Pathetic, that she couldn’t even
sit next to him without panicking? She steeled her courage and plunked down in
the middle of the couch. Surely he wouldn’t sit next to her. Surely he’d take
one of the armchairs.

“Like to take your half out of the middle, do you?” he
said, voice low and amused as he wedged himself between her and the side of the
couch.

Alix scurried as far away as she could, though it gave her
only an additional foot or so of room. Goose bumps rose on her traitorous skin.
She pulled her knees together and tried for calm. “So, what are we watching?”

He pushed Play and then immediately froze the film. A
still image of Lena, wearing a low-cut black nightgown and lying across a
crumpled bed, filled the screen. “This is the scene where Lena tricks Jake to
get him in her room so she can seduce him. We first shot this scene about a
month ago. I knew it wasn’t right, but when Gunther saw it, he nearly flipped.”
The teasing light faded from his eyes as he stared at the screen. He leaned
forward, elbows on knees, and jabbed the remote control with one irritated
finger. “Might as well get this over with.”

Jake entered the room, gun drawn. “I heard something at
the window,” he growled.

Lena crawled out of bed, rubbing her eyes as if she’d just
awakened. She stretched, arching her back and forcing her breasts to strain
against the top of her gown. “There’s no one there. It’s just your
imagination.”

He turned, gaze immediately falling to her breasts. She
looked away as if embarrassed, but the camera caught the hint of a smile on her
lips, hidden behind a black waterfall of hair.

“Imagination, huh? I suppose my imagination has been
working overtime lately.”

She laughed, a breathy, nervous sound. “About what?”

“You have to ask?”

She peered out from beneath her hair, seeking and
tentative. “But the other day, you…you asked what I knew about Paulo, and I thought…”

He stood over her, a full head taller. With one hand, he
reached out and touched her arm. “I need to find out the truth, Salva. It’s my
job. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

She closed her eyes, swayed, brushing her breasts against
him as she turned back toward the bed. “But you don’t trust me.”

He paused and then slowly shook his head.

She placed her hand on his forearm, a breathtaking picture
of vulnerability. “I don’t care. Just kiss me. Please kiss me.”

Jake stared at her, jaw flexing as if he fought some inner
battle. Then, eyes open, he slowly lowered his mouth.

She leaned against him, sliding her hands up along his
chest. Their mouths meshed, and he groaned, burying his hands in her hair. His
mouth slid along the edge of her jaw, then dipped lower, tracing the edge of
her collarbone. She offered herself to him, shaking her hair behind her like a
cloud and arching her back to press her chest closer to his. Without pause, he
took what she gave, pulling the thin spaghetti straps of her nightgown over her
shoulders and exposing her perfect white breasts. His fingers moved over the
hard brown peaks, and she moaned.

“NC-17 rating okay with you?” Alix asked.

“We’ll edit out the racier stuff.”

Jake returned his attention to her mouth. Bodies intertwined,
they fell backward on the bed as he licked the edges of her lips, slid his
tongue between them, claimed her like a prize.

That was when it all began to go wrong. What had been an
ordinary love scene, albeit one without much emotion, turned into a battle. He
struggled to maintain control while she fought back, her mouth moving faster
than his, her tongue slipping between his lips, her fingers catching him around
the waist. Though to the casual viewer it might not have been noticeable, to
Alix it was almost painful to watch, their bodies full of barely repressed
anger, any hint of romance diluted by the far greater sense of fury. When he
covered her with the weight of his body, it was an act of dominance, not
passion, and when she rolled him onto his back and straddled him, it was tit
for tat, push for shove.

Alix watched for a minute before she covered her eyes and
waved a hand at the screen. “Is it all like that?” she asked, her voice muffled
behind her hand.

“We did a number of takes,” Ryker said wearily. “That was
the worst. By the end of the day, they’d worked through a lot of it and had
reached a truce, I think. All I can say is that it didn’t look quite that bad
when we were filming.”

She observed him from the corner of her eye as he slumped
back against the cushions. He rubbed his eyes and slouched down farther into
the couch. He hit Fast Forward, and the film spun through a number of versions
of the scene, then changed to a kitchen. Lena sat on a kitchen counter,
laughing. Jake leaned between her legs. Ryker hit Play, and for a minute, the
couple looked happy, their cheeks resting against each other. Jake eased his
fingers through her hair, from her temple to the side of her neck. He took one
long black curl and wound it around his finger. He dropped a kiss on her
shoulder, and she froze. The look of ease disappeared, though she tried to
maintain the same expression. A cold, tight smile replaced the sensual heat of
the moment before.