Chapter Five
Holding her cell phone up to her ear as she rang her sister's agent, Valentina looked out the small window in her trailer-slash-office on the Gravity set. She'd expected winter in San Francisco to be cold, but from the way the heat of the sun was eating up the morning fog, it looked like it was going to be another perfect day outside.
She was hit with the urge to forget about work for a few hours and get out on the water in a kayak, or up in the mountains on foot to enjoy looking out over the gorgeous city they were working in. Over the past few years, Tatiana had taken acting jobs in beautiful cities all over the world, but Valentina had never considered moving to any of them. Until now. It helped, of course, that the house they were temporarily renting in the Noe Valley was incredibly cute. Regardless of how early she headed to the set, or how late she returned from it, someone was always out walking a dog or riding a bike. For a big city, San Francisco managed to be a perfect combination of the cosmopolitan and small town.
George Kauffman picked up. "Val, great to hear from you. Fill me in on everything. Especially the incomparable Smith Sullivan. Because if he's as gorgeous as he was the last time I saw him, I honestly don't know how anyone is getting a damn thing done on set."
Valentina liked Tatiana's agent a great deal. While he was incredibly slick when he needed to be, and was a master of negotiation, he didn't feel compelled to wear his agent hat all the time. More than once the two of them had gotten a little tipsy celebrating one of Tatiana's successes. The fact that he was g*y helped, too, if only because Valentina knew she'd never need to worry about whether her sister was safe with him. It was a large part of why she herself had let her guard down with him several years back.
Unlike, she thought with a twist of her lips, the way she constantly felt she had to add new layers of bricks to her walls whenever Smith was near.
Valentina was as sensual as the next woman, and certainly enjoyed sex when she found the time and the right man to have it with, but she'd never brought her sensuality into the workplace. Ever. Only, it seemed that whenever she and Smith were in the same room, no matter how hard she tried to focus on business, she couldn't stop the heightened awareness that took her over one cell at a time, from her heart that beat too fast to the tips of the toes that curled in her shoes every time he so much as said her name.
"Filming is going fantastically well," she told him. "And Smith has been a dream for Tatiana to work with."
George made a sound of approval over the line. "Of course he has. That man is a dream, period. You know," George added in a thoughtful voice, "he wouldn't be a bad choice."
"For what?"
"To break your extremely unfortunate dry spell."
The phone almost dropped from her hand. "You're crazy."
But she'd said it too quickly, too forcefully. She who doth protest too much, and all that.
She could all but see George's smile as he said, "He's always had good taste in women. Unfortunate for me," he said with a playful grumble at Smith's sexual orientation, "but good for you. And from what I remember about our casting meeting, his eyes kept circling back to you."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said in as light a voice as she could manage, as if they were joking about something that would never, ever happen in a million years.
"Well," George said after a pause that was just a little too long for her comfort, "I think we both know that if the beautiful and talented and filthy rich Smith Sullivan is smart enough to try to stick his hands up your skirt, you won't stand a chance."
She hated knowing her friend and colleague was right, hated it so much that as she grabbed a stack of notes on her desk, she tried to put a stop to all of his nonsense by saying, in her sternest, most businesslike tone, "If you're done speculating over whether or not Smith Sullivan wants to stick his hands, or any other body part, up my skirt - or if I have strong enough superpowers to resist him - perhaps we can discuss the details of Tatiana's recent commercial offer."
A creak from her office's doorway made her finally lift her gaze from her paperwork...to stare straight into Smith's amused eyes.
Oh God.
Oh no.
Could he have heard what she'd just said? About her skirt, and his hands, and....
Yes, she realized with a hard thunk of her heart as it careened down to the bottom of her stomach. Of course he'd heard every last word of it.
Why else would he look so amused...and, quite possibly, delighted?
"George, I'll need to call you back in a few minutes."
"Oooh, you sound tense. And more than a little breathless. A movie star must have walked into the room." George was obviously giddy over it. "Why don't you just leave your phone on speaker so I can hear his voice - just in case he says all those naughty things I know we're both hoping he'll say."
She hung up on Tatiana's agent and immediately stood up so that she and Smith would be on even ground. Well, as even as they could be, given the six or so inches he had on her even in her heels.
"You didn't need to hang up so quickly for me," he drawled in a voice that didn't try to be sexy. It just was.
"I know how busy you are," she replied. And it was true. As star, director, producer, and screenwriter of Gravity, she wasn't sure how he'd managed more than a handful of hours of sleep a night since production began. And yet, he didn't look the least bit tired. Instead, he looked even more handsome than he usually did.
Clearly, he wore smug well. Because she knew damn well just how smug he had to be feeling after what he'd heard her say to George.
Even worse, though, than the mortified flush that still hadn't left her cheeks, was the fact that she had to clasp her hands tightly in front of her as she asked, "What can I help you with this afternoon?" It was either grip her fingers tight enough to leave marks on her palms or give in to the urge to reach for him...and find out if the dark shadow on his chin felt as deliciously sexy against her fingertips as it looked.
He moved from the doorway into the trailer, which suddenly seemed tiny with the two of them in it. A vision hit her of Smith backing her up against her desk and putting one leg between hers to open her up to him before he slid her skirt up and -
" - asked for your number so she could thank you herself."
His voice finally penetrated her too-vivid daydream and she found herself blinking up at him.
When had he moved even closer?
Her heart raced at his nearness, and as she inhaled a deep breath to try to pull some oxygen into her lungs, she accidentally took in his scent instead. Pure, clean, and so male that her heartbeat only ratcheted higher, to the point where she was sure that he would be able to see the pulse racing beneath her skin if he looked.
Which, she suddenly realized when she caught the direction of his gaze on the pulse point at the side of her neck, was exactly what he was doing.
It felt like the fog outside had come in through the trailer window to wrap around her brain. She couldn't remember what they'd been talking about, had barely heard what he'd said. But she still had enough sense to realize that if she didn't say something soon, there wasn't going to be much room left for talking anymore. Not when he looked - and smelled - so darn good.
"Someone was asking for my number?" she asked him in the crispest voice she could manage under the circumstances.
She'd been cursed - although some women would probably have felt blessed - with a voice that made men think of sex, even if her conservative outward appearance rarely had. It had taken years of practice for her to school that huskiness out of it, much the way British actors often erased their accents to play American roles. But when she was nervous - or worked up - that huskiness would creep back in.
"Nicola called. She and Marcus just received the arrangement of purple tulips you sent them at his winery as an engagement gift. She'd like to thank you directly rather than just through me. Could I give her your number?"
"Of course you can."
She couldn't read his expression as he continued to look at her. "Forever love - " His eyes darkened with the heat that was so much a part of him she was surprised the whole trailer hadn't already gone up in flames. " - is the meaning of that flower."
Valentina tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart. "It seemed appropriate for them."
"It is." Smith leaned one shoulder against the wall and crossed his feet at the ankles as if he had all the time in the world to chat with her. "I was surprised to hear that you'd sent them an engagement gift."
"I've always thought that real love that comes without any strings should be celebrated."
Where had that come from? She didn't need to be discussing love with Smith Sullivan. Especially when something told her that if she gave him even the slightest bit of insight into who she was, he'd find a way to take advantage of it.
"I agree with you," he told her, "especially given how many strings people try to knot together in this business. It's one of the reasons I wanted to make this movie, even knowing people will try to write it off as a simple love story."
She was surprised by just how well they agreed with each other on that point. Surprised, and frankly frightened at the prospect of how many other things they might agree on given the chance...
And yet, she thought as if watching herself from a distance, it seemed that once she'd gotten going on a roll with all of her opinions about what love should and shouldn't be, she couldn't find a way to stop herself from spouting, "I've always wondered why love has to be so full of conflict and strife. Why can't love be simple? Why can't it just be as pure as two people who realize that they can't live as well, or as happily, apart as they can together?"
Smith's eyes grew even more intense with every word she spoke. When she finally managed to close her mouth, he said, "I spent months struggling with the screenplay for Gravity before I could find the heart of what you just said so eloquently. That love doesn't have to be hard. And passion can exist without the contrast of a fight. I see it with each of my siblings who have found love, the way safety and desire can be one and the same."
His words were so gentle and warm that she felt as if she were stepping into his strong arms even though they were still several feet apart.
"Marcus and Nicola are part of the reason I have to make this movie. Because, as you just said, love without strings should be celebrated." When his mouth curved up, his beautiful smile worked almost like gravity to pull her toward him. "Nicola also called me to make sure that I knew how great she and Marcus thought you were, just in case I was stupid enough to miss it." His smile turned unabashedly sensual. "I assured her that, for all my faults, stupidity isn't one of them. Come out on a date with me, Valentina."
Panic swamped her in an instant, the key scenes of any "relationship" they might possibly have playing out as clearly as any of the dailies she'd watched just that morning. If she let herself be wooed into a date, and then his bed (because how could anyone possibly date Smith without begging him to make love to her?), she had no doubt that despite hating everything about the spotlights and media and fame that came with his life, she'd foolishly fall head over heels for him...mere moments before he moved on to the next movie, the next set, the next woman who presented a challenge.
All of which was why she made sure her answer was as direct as his question had been. "No."
Any other man would have taken her refusal for what it was: a negative response that she had no intention of altering. Ever.
Smith, of course, wasn't like any other man she'd ever met. So instead of giving her a hurt look and walking out of her trailer with his tail between his legs, he moved closer yet again, all but pinning her against the window.
"From the first moment you and I met, there's been something between us."
She wasn't foolish enough to argue with him. Not when his statement was almost stupidly on point...as stupid as acting on those obvious sparks and letting them turn into flames that would burn her heart to ashes.
"You're a very attractive man," she admitted, "but since ten million other women are also attracted to you, I figure there's no point in making a big deal out of it."
"Only ten million?" he teased her.
Valentina honestly didn't know whether to laugh or slap the arrogance out of him. Nor would she take the third - and most obvious - option of melting at his feet like pretty much any woman alive would be doing right now.
Why couldn't he just get mad like a normal guy would when his attentions were being denied? All his teasing did was make her want to tease back. "Okay, probably more like a hundred million. But the end result is the same." She paused to make sure he understood her very clearly this time. "I'm still not interested in going out on a date with you."
"Why not?"
"I don't date actors."
He nodded as if it was a very wise decision. "Me either."
She did a terrible job of hiding her surprise from him. More like shock, actually, given what was printed about him on a regular basis in the entertainment magazines.
Then again, hadn't she been in the business long enough to know what a crock most of what the entertainment press dished out to the public really was?
"How about this?" he said in a voice that was far too reasonable for her comfort. "When I'm with you, I'll be a director. Or a producer. Even a lowly screenwriter, if it makes you happy."
She shouldn't have laughed at the laundry list of titles, but how could she not? And it was true, Smith Sullivan was much more than just an actor.
Still, that didn't change anything.
"How about I clarify my position?" She mirrored his reasonable tone perfectly. "I don't date anyone in the business."
There, that should do it. How could he possibly argue with that?
But when he didn't look the least bit daunted, her stomach clenched. She told herself it wasn't due to need, or desire, or the sparks that kept leaping and growing between them.
"I'm also a brother." He moved closer. "A son." Closer still, so close that she could almost feel his breath on her upturned face. "A friend." She was mesmerized by the color of his eyes, so dark now that the blue was almost black. "And I hope to be a father one day, too."
She couldn't keep the breath from whooshing out of her lungs as he hit her right in the center of her softest spot. She could have defended herself against cocky or sexy or confident.
But how could she protect herself against family?
"Why me?" She wasn't asking to fish for compliments. She truly was confused. "You could have any woman on set. Any woman on the street. Any woman anywhere."
"You're smart. Beautiful. Great at your job. Devoted to your sister. You have a knack for solving puzzles and I like you, Valentina." He paused before adding, "I want you, too. Very, very much."
His honesty floored her. But so did the knowledge that at least a dozen actors had likely said similar things to her mother in the years since her father had died. And every time her mother had given in, what had it left her with except an increasingly broken spirit...and heart?
Valentina told herself she was being just as honest as she said, "You can't have me."
Because she knew that if she was stupid enough to actually go out with Smith, that if she was even stupider about letting herself fall for him, she would only be setting herself up for complete and utter emotional destruction.
Case in point: Smith and Tatiana would be filming a love scene together in a few weeks. It was going to be hard enough to watch her sister bare herself to the cameras like that. But if Valentina were foolish enough to let Smith into her bed and her heart during filming, she couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult - how impossible - it would be to sit quietly in the background and watch Smith kiss, touch, caress another woman. Especially when she still hadn't been able to forget how it had felt to be in his arms for those few minutes when they'd talked about their families in front of the fire in his living room.
A shiver ran through her as she took a step away from the window, and from Smith. When she felt there was enough distance between them for her head to remain clear, she said, "We're going to be working together for the next few months. I don't want to make things hard on anyone on set, especially my sister, if she thinks you or I have a problem with each other." She wasn't teasing him, wasn't trying to be a challenge he couldn't resist as she asked, "Can't we just be friends?"
At last, she could feel his frustration rumble through the trailer, no longer, it seemed, the perfectly-in-control man he usually was.
Oh, why did witnessing that brief loss of control have to make him even more appealing? And why did she want to see it again, only next time while they were talking less...and kissing more?
"Of course we'll be friends," he said in a soft voice that caressed her just as well as any touch of his hand would have. "We already are."
Her pleasure at that statement came swift and warm through her veins. So, unfortunately, did the instant disappointment that he'd given up so easily. Of course it was what she wanted. And yet, evidently a part of her had been hoping for more.
Only, it turned out that both her pleasure and disappointment were to be short-lived as he held her prisoner with his dark gaze. "But just because I'm your friend doesn't mean I've stopped wanting you, too."
Even worse, she thought as he made an exit as good as anything he'd won an Oscar for, it didn't make her stop wanting him.
And as Valentina sank down into her office chair, she realized - too late - the extent of her mistake.
She should have grabbed seduction, desire, with both hands.
Seduction would just have been her body. Desire would simply have been two people making each other feel good in bed. She could easily have written off a roll in the hay.
But friendship involved her heart.
As she buried her head in her hands, all she could think was, Why couldn't I have been smart and just slept with him?