Heartthrob (9 page)

Unlike the first time they’d met, she wasn’t trying to hide her drop-dead body behind starchy clothes. She was dressed to impress—and it was working.

He fought it, refusing to acknowledge anything about her but the fact she’d forced him to sign that agreement from hell. She was the devil to whom he’d sold his soul. He was supposed to despise her, not
want
her.

He shut himself down. He refused to feel anything. “I’d appreciate it if you’d knock next time you want to come in.” His voice was flat and cold.

She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m sorry. I certainly will. Please forgive me—most of the cast and crew don’t stand on ceremony, and I thought—”

“You thought wrong, Ms. O’Laughlin.”

He had to hand it to her, she wasn’t about to let herself be intimidated. And she didn’t try to sidestep the issue. She came at it, head-on. “I know you must still be very angry with me.”

Jed leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. “I’ve been watching your death scene in
Dead of Night
over and over again in an attempt to handle my intense feelings of hostility.”

Her death scene was preceded by that notoriously blazing hot sex scene.

Kate’s cheeks flushed. Still, she managed to put a smile on her face. “I’m glad someone’s finally been able to put that movie to good use.”

Jed laughed, wanting to see her squirm. “From what I’ve read,
Dead of Night
—and that scene with you in particular—has been put to extremely good use, particularly since it came out on video. Of course, I suppose it all depends on your definition of
good use.
”

She knew what was coming. He saw it in her eyes, and in the darkening tinge of pink on her cheeks.

He continued ruthlessly. “I read in
Details
magazine—”

She tried to brush it off and avoid having the conversation go any further. “Yeah, I read that, too. It’s old news.”

He didn’t stop. “… that
Dead of Night
was voted hottest movie of the decade, coming in number one with a record 86 percent of all men polled. And, according to their statistics, something like one third have used that particular scene as fantasy enhancement while … shall we say … flying solo. And that’s not including the huge percentage who are unwilling to admit they’ve ever taken that particular flight.”

Her cheeks were pink, but she held his gaze. “And what percentage do you fall into?”

She would not be intimidated. She would not be embarrassed. She could take what he dished out in this game of implications and underlying sexual tension, and serve it right back to him. But she hated it. The pink tinge to her cheeks gave that much away.

“Actually”—Jed gave her a tight, flat smile that he knew didn’t touch the chill in his eyes—“my only interesting experience with that scene also included a young woman named Carla. The combination of you and me and Carla was … memorable.”

Her flush deepened, but she stood her ground. “How lovely for you. I’m so glad I was able to give you the help you needed.”

Ouch. That comment had teeth. While it didn’t quite even things up, she had certainly scored a point.

She turned toward the door, her demeanor much cooler than when she’d come in. “I’ve got a desk piled high with paperwork. I’ll just introduce you to your supervisor before I leave. I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting acquainted with Bob Hollander.”

“Gee, I sure am,” Jed said. “As I was flying out here from L.A., I was just sitting on the plane, thinking, wow, I
am really looking forward to a total lack of privacy over the next two and a half months.”

Kate pushed open the screen door, and a mountain came into the trailer.

The man was seriously a giant. He had to twist his body sideways to fit his shoulders in through the door. He stood only about an inch or two above Jed’s own six feet four, but he was built like something that had escaped from Jurassic Park.

He was not going to win any beauty contests, either, with a mouth that was set in a permanent scowl and small eyes that were surrounded by folds of flesh. His hair was military short and flecked with gray.

But just because he looked like a humorless, completely non-compassionate, tough-as-nails son of a bitch didn’t mean he actually was one.

“Hey,” Jed drawled, holding out his hand and giving the man Jericho’s best “let’s be buddies” smile. “Bob. How’s it hanging, man? Nice to meet ya.”

Hollander crossed his arms, making sure Jed knew he had no intention of shaking hands. “Here’s how it works,” he said in a gravelly voice that spoke of too many packs of cigarettes. “We’re not gonna be friends, Mr. Beaumont. I’m not going to sit around and be a sounding board for your overinflated ego. What I
am
going to be is your shadow. What I
am
going to do is watch your every move, at all times. Everywhere you go, I go. Including into the bathroom.”

Dear, sweet Lord, this was worse than his wildest imaginings.

“You better call me Jericho,” he told Hollander, praying that he’d see a flicker of humor in the big man’s eyes. “Because have you seen that bathroom? If we’re going to be in there together, we might as well be on a first name basis. In fact, we might have to start calling each other ‘honey.’ ”

Nothing. No humor, no amusement, nothing. This guy wasn’t just soulless, he was an automaton. There was, quite possibly, no humanity in him at all. Or at least none he cared to show.

There was a rap on the door, and a friendly-faced man stuck his head in the trailer. “Miz O’Laughlin? Annie said you might be over here.”

“Nate, come on in.”

“Ethan’s here, too.” He pulled back the screen all the way and came into the trailer, followed by another man. They were both wearing security guard uniforms.

“Nate and Ethan will be responsible for conducting the searches in your trailers,” Kate told Jericho.

Nate leaned forward to shake his hand. “How d’ya do?”

Ethan just waved. “Howdy.” The two men looked as if they might be brothers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I loved you in
Die Hard.
”

Nate elbowed Ethan. “That wasn’t Jericho Beaumont in
Die Hard.
Jericho did the
Kill Zone
movies.”

“That’s right. I loved you in
Kill Zone.
”

“Thanks,” Jericho said.

“Well, we just stopped in to say howdy,” Nate told him. “We better get back to it.” They trooped back outside.

To follow them out, Kate was going to have to squeeze past the mountain. “If you’ll excuse me. I know you and Bob have some business to take care of.”

“Wait!” It came out sounding a little too panicked, and Jed took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Before you go, I have to talk to you.”

Her eyes were innocently wide. “Was there something else you needed?”

She was enjoying this. Even though she wasn’t laughing, even though she wasn’t even smiling, he could tell that she was having a grand old time at his expense.

Jed felt anger slice through him, and he wanted … he
wanted … Perfect. Every single one of his revenge fantasies involved her willing and eager participation. What were the odds of that ever happening?

He forced his anger away and turned to Hollander. “Would you please wait outside?”

Hollander looked to Kate, who nodded.

Jed waited until the screen door closed behind Monsterman. Kate was watching him, her face carefully expressionless. He knew he had to be equally careful, or everything he was trying so desperately to suppress—all the rage and frustration—would burst out of him and splatter against the walls like emotional roadkill.

He knew he should be deciding how to talk to her. He knew he had to figure out the best approach to use to make his appeal, but his mind had gone completely blank. He pulled Jericho out at the last minute, biting back Jed’s acerbic “Are you friggin’ nuts …?” and instead saying, remarkably calmly, “I really don’t think this is going to work out.”

She crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly to one side. “These
are
the conditions of our agreement.”

Jed wanted to scream, but Jericho managed a weak smile. “Somehow I didn’t expect you to hire a former marine drill sergeant to be my baby-sitter. I mean, come on, Kate. Have a heart.”

“Bob Hollander comes highly recommended. His credentials are impeccable and—”

“You don’t really expect me to spend the next two and a half months, 24/7, with Gigantor breathing down my neck?”

She didn’t blink. “I expect you to follow the terms of our agreement.”

“The man has no sense of humor.”

“Like he said, he’s not here to be your friend.”

Jed ran his hands down his face, and when he turned
back to Kate, he did the only thing he could do. He begged.

“Please,” he said quietly. His words were like ashes in his mouth, but she had him by the balls. Again. “You’ve got me where you want me with this setup—two trailers, baby-sitter, the drug tests … You’ve won. I’m completely humiliated. But please don’t rub my face in it this way. Hire someone I at least have a
prayer
of getting along with. How about one of those security guards? Nate or Ethan? They seemed human at least.”

“They have jobs with the town bank. They’ll be searching your trailers during their breaks. They’re also both married and unavailable during evenings or nights.”

“There’s got to be somebody else.”

Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you don’t think so, but I am sorry. And I’m even more sorry that I can’t take anything you say at face value. I can’t, and I don’t think you can blame me. I’ve got to think there’s some other reason you don’t want Bob Hollander around. Maybe it’s not just a personality issue. Maybe you’re upset because you know that Bob will never let you get away with anything. Maybe you know Bob will never let you cheat the rules. I know for a fact that Bob will never let you go into a bar, order a shot of Jack Daniel’s, and sit there
smelling
it. And that makes me think I’ve made a good choice in selecting him.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Of course, that’s what I’d expect you to say.”

Jed’s control slipped. “Christ, why did you even hire me?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Because Victor wanted you. I never would have cast you—not in a million years, but Victor threatened to walk. I had to cast you to keep him happy.”

“I guess spreading your legs for him doesn’t do it anymore, huh?”

She flushed, this time with anger. And then she raised her voice. “Bob, you can come back in now.” She didn’t add the rest of her sentence, but her eyes said it for her:
and beat the crap out of Jericho Beaumont.

Jed sat down at the kitchen table, disgusted with her, disgusted with himself. God, he needed a drink. He closed his eyes, imagining the soothing warmth, the blessed numbness.

When he opened his eyes, Kate was gone. Bob Hollander stood in front of him, setting a urine specimen cup down on the table with a thump.

“First thing we do,” Hollander said, “is verify that you are indeed as clean as you claim to be.”

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Jed took the cup and stood up. And his six and a half feet tall, two-hundred-seventy-pound baby-sitter followed him into the bathroom, just as he’d promised he would.

Jericho Beaumont was incredible.

Susie lurked near the producer, Kate O’Laughlin, watching as Jericho collapsed out in the middle of a field.

Even from way back here, he was amazing.

Today they were filming a scene from early in the movie. His character, Laramie, had drunk himself into unconsciousness.

In a few weeks, when they started shooting at night, the crew would bring special equipment back to this very field. And Jericho would lie exactly as he’d fallen, and she—playing Jane—would come searching with a lantern, and she’d find him here. The wind would be picking up, and it would start to rain, and she’d pull him to his feet and half drag him back to the shelter of the barn.

Edited together, it would be very dramatic—nevermind the fact that they would have shot the entire sequence disjointedly over a period of two or three weeks.

“Ready for this afternoon?” Kate asked her.

Susie liked Kate. And it had nothing to do with the fact that the producer told her this script was written with Susie in mind for the part of Jane. Well … Maybe some of it had to do with that. Most people wrote movies called
The Dog Ate My Homework
or
Baby-sitter’s Nightmare
with Susie McCoy in mind.

“I’m always ready,” Susie said, then cringed. “I didn’t mean for that to sound so … pompous or egotistical. I just meant I love it so much, you know?”

Kate nodded. It was amazing how she always managed to look so cool and composed, even on a day like today where the temperature was climbing toward ninty-five degrees. She never wore ratty old clothes like the rest of the crew. Even when she wore shorts, they were dressy. And she wore them with sandals that had heels.

Susie looked down at her own T-shirt and cutoffs. Her feet were bare. “I’ve been walking around barefoot for the past two months—trying to toughen up my feet.”

“That’s right—Jane is barefoot in almost every scene,” Kate said. “Gee, I never really thought about how that would affect you as an actor.”

“It’s not a problem.” Susie smiled. “It actually helps me get into character.”

Kate’s attention was temporarily caught by the lighting crew’s movement of some large reflective sheets out near Jericho, but then she turned back to Susie. “Has Victor had a chance to talk to you yet about the scene you’ll be shooting after lunch?”

Susie shrugged. “Not really. But I don’t think it’s going to be that big a deal.”

Later this afternoon, the cameras would remain set up in this very field. Susie would race across the open expanse, running full speed—barefoot—with her skirts hiked up and tucked into her belt. It wouldn’t take much time—it was a wide shot, encompassing the entire field and the huge blue sky.

They’d then move the cameras and set up in the woods, where Susie as Jane would run down a trail, leaping over rocks and roots. She would stop to collect a few pretty, shiny rocks, and scramble up into the branches of a tree to hang upside down.