Overnight Sensation (9 page)

It consisted of a carved wooden frame and a mattress, and was pushed against the wall and heaped with bedding and pillows brought over from the hacienda. Gossamer mosquito netting, suspended from the ceiling rafter, enveloped the bed. Oh, yeah, he definitely wanted to show her his bed, but he was pretty sure—despite the kiss they’d shared—that she hadn’t come out to his cottage forthat.

“Wow. This is—”

“Primitive. I know.”

She smiled at him, a swift curving of her lips. “I was going to say cozy. ”

Garrett shrugged. At Finn’s request, the set department had done a great job of transforming the tiny interior into an inviting, Spanish-themed retreat. Even the brightly patterned rug that covered the unvarnished floorboards was inviting. Not that it particularly mattered to him. He didn’t actually spend much time there, except to sleep.

But with Ivy standing scant feet away and her fragrance filling his head, he was suddenly glad she found the cottage appealing. Which prompted another thought: What the hell was she doing here?

He crossed his arms over his chest. “So what brings you out here?”

He noted with interest the flush that stained her neck and crept upward until even the tips of her ears were red. She twisted her fingers together, then drew in a deep breath and—finally—looked straight at him.

“It’s about today’s shoot.” She gestured helplessly. “It was pretty bad.”

Bad didn’t even begin to describe it, Garrett noted grimly. Apart from the enchantment of seeing Ivy undress, the scene had had all the appeal of a poorly acted, low-budget porn film. It was clear to anyone watching just how much Ivy had disliked being skin-to-skin with Eric Terrell. Even before Eric had begun groping her beneath the sheet, Ivy’s responses had been forced and mechanical.

Finn had been right. There’d been zero chemistry between them. Personally, Garrett had been okay with that. Totally okay. But professionally, he knew that if things didn’t change, Finn could very well send Ivy packing. He had too much riding on the film to let one actor ruin it.

One of the reasons Finn had agreed to bring Ivy on board was that her love scenes were usually so realistic. She had an ability to bring a depth to her on-screen relationships that was both realistic and moving. That Ivy had been involved with each of her on-screen love interests no doubt played a huge part in making those scenes so believable—something Garrett preferred not to think about.

But today’s shoot had completely lacked emotion. Still, there was no way Garrett was walking into the trap Ivy had laid. If she thought he was going to agree with her about the disastrous shoot, she was dead wrong.

He shrugged noncommittally.

She made a small sound of exasperation and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “Oh, please. You don’t have to pretend on my account. You were there. You saw the shoot. I mean, did it come even close to what you shared with Helena Vanderveer?”

Garrett stilled. He’d lied to Ivy that first day about his relationship with the missionary, and while he didn’t typically spend time analyzing his past actions, this particular untruth had been eating at him. He wasn’t even sure what devil had prompted him to tell Ivy the script was true to life. Only afterward did he acknowledge that he’d wanted to get under her skin.

The way she’d gotten under his.

He’d wanted to arouse her awareness of him, even though the little white lie implied he’d been involved with another woman. The truth was, he’d been more than half in love with Ivy ever since the day he had first seen her at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, even if she had no memory of his being there.

He’d watched every one of her films, and had followed her blossoming career during the past two years. He’d even used his USASOC—U.S. Army Special Operations Command—connections to run a check on her and determine if there was anyone significant in her life.

He knew she’d been involved with a couple of her costars, although none of the relationships had lasted much beyond the time it had taken to film the movie. Garrett tried to tell himself it didn’t matter; her personal entanglements were her own business. But he knew he was only kidding himself. She was the sole reason he’d even agreed to let Finn make the damn movie, and just the thought of her with another guy caused his gut to tighten.

The earnestness of her question caused him a pang of guilt, and part of him wanted to fess up. He determinedly ignored it. “No,” he finally answered. “It didn’t even come close to what I shared with Helena.” That, at least, was the truth.

Her face fell and her entire body seemed to sag. “I thought as much.” She bent her head and wearily rubbed her eyes.

Garrett pushed himself away from the table and moved to stand directly in front of her. He used one hand to tip her chin, studying her. The defeat in her dark eyes almost undid him. “Hey,” he at last managed to say. “It wasn’t as bad as all that.”

She gave a disbelieving huff and turned her face aside. “Yes, it was. It was…terrible.” She avoided his eyes, focusing on her hands, instead. “Do you remember what you said to me that first day, about giving me pointers?”

Garrett felt his heartbeat falter. “Sure,” he replied cautiously. “I remember.”

Ivy drew in a deep breath and her voice dropped. “I—I need to ask you…”

She let the sentence trail off, as if unable to finish it. Garrett dipped his head to look into her eyes. “Yes?”

She straightened, drawing her shoulders back and meeting his gaze without flinching. “Well, I was hoping you could give me some pointers.” She gestured helplessly. “With the love scenes.”

Garrett had spent a lot of years in covert ops, and he’d seen and done things that would make even the strongest of men fold, but nothing had ever made him go as weak in the knees as Ivy’s words did. For a moment, he couldn’t even formulate a response.

When he’d said he’d be available to give her pointers, he’d never—even in his wildest dreams—imagined she’d actually need them. But if there was one thing Garrett had learned during his years in the military, it was to recognize a strategic opportunity and take full advantage of it. In this case, that wasn’t something he was overly proud of. But he was willing to resort to subterfuge, he wanted her that much.

“I don’t know.” He injected a note of doubt into his voice. “Maybe. It depends. What exactly do you want to know?”

Ivy stared at him for a full moment, and it was all Garrett could do to maintain an expression of polite interest and not squirm beneath her scrutiny.

Her gaze traveled slowly over his features before finally lingering on his mouth.

When she spoke at last, her voice was so low he had to strain to hear it. “I want to know what attracted you to each other. I want to know how it was between the two of you. The looks you gave each other, the way she touched you. I—I want to know what the sex was like, and what made it so special. I want to know all the nuances of your relationship.” She hesitated a moment. “I want to know everything.”

IVY WATCHED AS GARRETT’S eyes darkened and his face grew taut. He was going to refuse her; she just knew it. Coming here had been a mistake, but she’d been desperate.

She had three days—four at most—to capture the essence of what Helena Vanderveer had experienced with Garrett Stokes. What Ivy had failed to consider was Garrett’s own feelings on the matter. For all Ivy knew, he and the missionary were still in love. That Ivy had shared one hot kiss with the guy didn’t mean anything. She knew from experience that not all men equated love with fidelity. Some could profess love to one woman but have no problem screwing around with another.

On the other hand, two years had passed since Garrett had been in Colombia. Quite possibly, he and the missionary were no longer together. Whatever. It didn’t really matter. What did matter was whether her interpretation matched what Garrett had experienced. She just hoped he didn’t view the botched love scene as a mockery of what he and Helena had shared.

As she saw Garrett’s features tighten, she nearly groaned in despair. What had she been thinking to believe she could even try to replicate what he’d shared with the Dutch missionary? She was an idiot.

“You know what?” She raised her hands. “Just forget I asked. It was a stupid request, and I’m sorry I bothered you with it. I’ll leave.” She turned away, intent only on getting out of there with what remained of her dignity. She had her hand on the screen door when Garrett’s deep voice stopped her in her tracks.

“I’ll do it.”

Slowly, Ivy faced him. He stood, unmoving, in the center of the room, regarding her through hooded eyes. In the indistinct light, she couldn’t read his expression, but she sensed the tension coiled within him.

He dominated the small room. Even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with his feet bare, he exuded raw energy. His dark hair fell forward around his face, shadowing his features and making his expression unreadable. He might be standing loose limbed and relaxed, but Ivy wasn’t fooled. Energy rolled off the guy in waves, and the only thing she could think was that he was…dangerous.

Not for the first time, she wondered about the wisdom of her great idea. After all, what did she really know about Garrett Stokes? Nothing except what she’d read in the script.

He’d spent several years as a covert-ops specialist, crawling through the jungles of Colombia, destroying coca fields and labs and gathering intelligence about the most ruthless of the drug cartels. He’d killed men. He’d been tortured beyond what most people could endure and had survived. Even injured, he’d managed to escape his captors and evade those who pursued him for two days.

The guy was his own commando unit, and she’d just asked him to give her pointers on making love. She was completely lame. She was probably the only woman on the face of the planet who couldn’t get aroused by Eric Terrell’s kisses, and she’d just asked a hardened soldier to give her pointers. She’d be lucky if she didn’t find herself raped.

But in the next instant, she knew she was wrong. She was safe with Garrett; at least, she amended silently, as safe as she wanted to be. If she was honest with herself, she wanted him. She’d wanted him even before he’d kissed her, but since that night she’d thought of little else except what it would be like to make love with Garrett Stokes.

She’d come out to the casita on the pretext of learning more about Helena’s character, but a little voice inside her said that was all an act. She’d come out tonight because she wanted to find out what it was like to be with Garrett. He was unlike any man she’d ever known, but more than that, she felt a connection with him, a recognition of sorts.

“Are you sure?” she finally managed to say. “Because if you’re not, I don’t want to, you know…force you or anything. I mean, I only want you to do this if you’re completely comfortable with the idea.” God, she was babbling like an idiot but couldn’t stop. “If you’re not—”

“I said I’d do it.”

His voice was rough, and when Ivy looked into his eyes, they seemed to shimmer, as though someone had lit a flame behind those flecked amber irises. As she took in the banked heat in his eyes, a disturbing awareness curled in her stomach.

“Right. I mean, that’s great.” Ivy drew a deep breath and willed her rioting pulse to slow down. “I really appreciate your willingness to do this for me.”

Yeah, right. Once again she knew she was not being honest with herself, that she wasn’t doing this to gain a better understanding of Helena or his relationship with her, but was doing this for herself. Because she found Garrett intensely attractive, and just had to know what it would be like to be with him. She couldn’t cease thinking about him, about his face and his expressions, his hands, his easy smile. No, it had nothing to do with Helena, and everything to do with her.

He smiled then, a lazy tilting of his lips that caused something hot and sensual to unfurl deep within her.

“Ma’am,” he began, his voice no more than a rasp, “the pleasure is all mine. So…where do you want to start?”

At my mouth, and you can work your way down from there.

For a shocked instant, Ivy thought she’d actually uttered the words. But, no, his expression hadn’t changed. His gaze, however, fastened on her mouth as if perhaps he’d read her thoughts and was giving them serious consideration.

Disconcerted by his stare, she nervously moistened her lips. “Ah, maybe you could tell me about Helena,” she suggested breathlessly.

“What do you want to know?”

Could she be that truthful with him? “Well, maybe you could tell me what it was that attracted you to each other,” Ivy said. “That, and what happened between the two of you during the days you hid beneath the mission church.”

The smile he gave her was one of pure, male satisfaction. “A better question would be, what didn’t happen?”

Immediately, images swamped Ivy’s mind. Images of him and a woman entwined on a narrow bed. And not just any woman.

Her.

She cleared her throat as warmth flooded her veins and a peculiar heaviness settled in her breasts. “So the attraction between the two of you was…instantaneous?”

For just a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Something hot and needful that caused her chest to tighten and her breath to hitch. In the next moment, the look was gone, and Ivy wondered if she’d imagined it.