The Spiral Path (14 page)

"Right.
But I'm not 'sir.' I'm a swine. An arrogant unbeliever--and I definitely don't
belong on a pedestal."

"Yes,
si... Sir Swine." Sharif smiled. From now on, he would regard Kenzie as a
fellow actor, not a paragon.

Kenzie
clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Let's go back and try it again,
and this time, send chills through John Randall's unimaginative heart."

Take
eighteen was filmed without a hitch.

CHAPTER 8

A
fter the
final scene of the afternoon, Rainey rolled her tight shoulders. It had
been a long day, but a good one. After filming the close-ups of Randall's first
meeting with Mustafa, they'd gone on to an earlier scene where Randall risked
his life to save one of his men from a poisonous snake.

Kenzie
had been wonderful--tight-lipped, fearless, utterly competent. She hoped there
would be room for the incident in the final cut because it demonstrated
Randall's courage, his marksmanship, and his dedication to his men. Since
Randall's rigid world view might be hard for modern audiences to relate to, it
was important to show that by the standards of his day, he was an exemplary
officer.

Walking
up to Kenzie, she said, "You're doing great."

Looking
tense and tired, he unbuttoned his heavy red wool uniform tunic, revealing the
very modern white T-shirt underneath. "This is only my first day. It's
going to be a long couple of months." Rubbing at the red marks left by his
tight collar, he headed for his trailer.

She
followed, stretching her steps to match his. "Thanks for settling Sharif
down. Since you talked to him, he's been terrific."

"He's
very talented. The perfect blend of danger and disturbing appeal."

"The
tension between the two of you is complex enough to make everything that
happens later believable."

She
was about to say more when Kenzie paused, tall and intimidating in his uniform.
"Is there a good reason why you're following me around?"

Rainey
stopped in her tracks, flushing scarlet. "As ... as your director, I wanted
to see how you're doing."

"As
your soon to be ex-husband, I find too much proximity exhausting."

She
felt as if she'd been slapped. "I ... I thought we were getting along pretty
well. I'd hope we could work together as friends."

A
muscle jumped in his cheek. "Friends: A woman's idea of a good solution,
and a man's nightmare. You are not my friend, Rainey. You are my wife, at least
for now. While you're thinking amiability, I'm thinking how much I enjoyed
sleeping with you. I can't help it, I'm a man and we're made that way. Usually
we hide our base natures, but when I'm making a movie, I haven't much energy
left over for maintaining a civilized facade. Not where you're concerned."

"You
think only men obsess about sex?" she retorted. "How very
retrograde."

His
brows arched. "Is that a declaration of interest?"

"It's
a declaration of memory." She sighed. "We both knew this would be
difficult. I didn't mean to make it worse by following you around. I'm just
worried. About you, the movie, everything."

He
gave her a wintry smile. "A little worry is useful, but too much is
destructive. Don't overdose on anxiety before we even get to England."

"You're
right, of course, but relaxation is hard to do on command." She saw a
gleam in his eye and belatedly wondered if he was going to suggest that sex was
a famously effective stress reliever--one that he'd used with her in the past
when she was tied in knots.

A
memory seared through her of the two of them lying in bed together after making
love, a pine-scented candle burning on the bedside table. She couldn't even
remember where they were--an inn on the coast of Brittany, maybe, because waves
had been crashing on the headlands outside. But she remembered how she'd felt:
utterly tranquil, her busy brain almost still. So this is peace, she had
thought with wonder.

Kenzie
had been equally relaxed, his arm around her and his face buried in her hair as
he molded her against his body. There had been no need to talk. They had fit
together so well it was impossible to imagine anything ever separating them.

She
swallowed as she realized she was staring at the thinly covered chest visible
under his open tunic. Wrenching her mind back to business, she asked, "Do
you feel any better about doing this story?"

"No,"
he said bluntly. "I feel worse because it's becoming more real in all its
awfulness. But don't worry. I'll do my best."

"I
know that. I'll see you tomorrow morning." She turned and walked back to
the shooting area, where equipment was being broken down and stored for the
night. Time to return to the small, off-season ski resort where the cast and
crew were staying, so she could spend the evening working.

If
she worked hard enough, maybe her sleep wouldn't be haunted by dreams of
Kenzie.

After removing his
makeup and changing into his own clothes, Kenzie collected the rented SUV that
was one of his few perks on this production, and roared away from the desolate
canyon where they were shooting. How the devil was he going to survive two
months of this? A single day had gone by, and already his nerves were frayed to
the point where it was hard to be civil to Rainey. He would continue because
he'd given his word--but he hated to think what kind of shape he'd be in by the
end of shooting.

Driving
through the open countryside soothed him. Since arriving in New Mexico several
days earlier, he'd spent every spare moment exploring, from rugged mountain
peaks to hidden lakes, solitary meadows to dramatic ski slopes that teemed with
people during the snow season. He'd stopped for coffee in a truck stop with an
espresso machine, visited Indian ruins and modern pueblos. He'd even found a
bed-and-breakfast establishment carved into a rocky escarpment, like the homes
of ancient cliff dwellers. The place had so intrigued him that he'd booked it
for Saturday night, so he'd have the experience of sleeping inside stone.

He
wanted to absorb everything, because New Mexico spoke to him, even the barren
canyon where they were filming. He'd visited areas of Arizona that looked
similar, but they'd felt different. New Mexico had a spare, clear energy unlike
anything he'd ever experienced. If forced to describe his reaction, he'd have
to say this land touched his soul. A pity the whole movie wasn't being shot
here.

About
two more hours until dark. That should be enough to get him into balance, at
least for tonight. He turned right onto a minor road, hardly more than a trail.

Which
was worse, playing John Randall or being around Rainey? At the moment, Rainey
was worse, he decided. For a novice director, she was doing well, authoritative
without being intimidating, and clear about what she wanted. She was also an
actor's director, inviting comments and collaboration when a scene was being
developed. Her earnestness and passionate commitment entranced him as they
always had. No wonder his mind was flooded with memories.