Chapter Six
As filming kicked into high gear, the hours on the set grew longer for everyone. There weren't action scenes to choreograph and memorize. There weren't digital effects to render. Nor were there hours in makeup or costume.
But there was emotion.
So much emotion from Smith and Tatiana as they played two characters who loved and lost, then learned how to love again, that just watching them act out their parts over the past week had been leaving Valentina drained and empty at the end of the day.
How, she wondered for the hundredth time, did they do it?
And yet, a part of her envied them that freedom to yell and laugh and cry and love all in the course of a workday. Because for all her hard work on set, Tatiana always shook off the harsh emotions within minutes of the director saying "Cut," as if her day had been akin to a cleansing therapy session.
These past weeks, Valentina had been turning more and more to her own secret project as a way to deal with the emotions churning around and around inside her. Tatiana was the only person who knew that Valentina was working on a screenplay about a female writer who woke up one day and found herself actually living out the story she was writing...including falling in love with the fictional hero she had created.
Tatiana had been trying for months now to convince her to send it out to some of their contacts. But even though Valentina knew this was a logical next step in the Hollywood career of someone who loved the stories but not the limelight, she'd also known her script wasn't quite ready. Amazingly, it was after going through Smith's screenplay backward and forward with Tatiana at least a dozen times that Valentina finally realized where the holes were in her own work. And she knew that the changes she'd been making were good ones. Really good ones. Because she'd been lucky enough to learn from Smith what it took to make a truly emotional, impactful film.
And as she sat with the crew and watched Smith play his part of the harshly powerful yet disturbed and guilty businessman, her heart squeezed tight in her chest. When the movie was released in theaters, the audience would see every single one of his emotions in his eyes, in the set of his mouth, and the lines on his forehead. And they would know without a doubt that the girl on the street he'd pushed down and stepped on, had haunted him more and more with every day that passed.
Again and again, he'd gone back to Union Square, to the corner to watch for her, to wait for her. More than once as he'd been standing in the middle of the rushing crowds, a call had come in on his cell phone from a brother. A sister. His mother. But he'd never picked up those calls.
Just as the young woman had never come back that way again.
As the months had passed, the man's shoulders had stayed just as broad, his face just as handsome, his company more profitable than ever. But he'd grown more and more hollow, with more one-night stands, and wilder parties with acquaintances and colleagues that meant nothing. In the hours that were left between women who didn't matter and work that seemed to matter just as little, he drove himself even further into the ground with five a.m. runs and midnight swims.
But still, he couldn't forget the girl's eyes.
Or what she'd screamed at him before she ran.
Until, finally, he found her working at a coffee shop. He saw the pink streaks in her hair first, darker now than they'd been so many months ago, and then the face that was even prettier than he'd remembered.
A play of emotions moved across the businessman's face. Relief. Hope. Along with immovable, unstoppable intent.
She was helping a customer, and unlike the day he'd crashed into her on the street when she'd been so pale, her skin glowed and her hair shone. For a moment, the man's mouth began to move into a smile. The first real one he'd worn in a very, very long time.
That was when the girl moved, shifting away from the register...and he saw her belly.
Her extremely pregnant belly.
Now he was the pale one as all color leached from his tanned skin. He had to grip the back of a chair to keep his balance, and more than one customer shot him a concerned look as he stopped cold in the middle of the coffee shop.
All it took was an instant to calculate that she'd already been pregnant when he'd knocked her down...and his foot had landed hard on her stomach.
Bile rose in his throat at what he might have done to her, to the life she carried, that day.
His own hands went to his middle as his eyes squeezed shut for a split second. She could have lost her baby because of him.
There were so many things he had to make up to so many people. But for now, she was his only focus.
He would make this up to her.
He would protect her and the baby.
And he would make sure she never hurt again.
He was just moving toward her when she laughed at something a co-worker said. Again, he was hit hard, this time higher than his stomach.
Straight in the heart.
Her eyes met his just then, and as their gazes locked, her glowing skin paled. The cup in her hand was forgotten as she backed away from him, cardboard slipping from her hands as steamed milk hit the floor and splattered all over her shoes and pants.
It was as if the warm splash of liquid brought her back to life. With a brisk smile that never even came close to reaching her eyes, she brushed off the concern of her co-workers, who were checking to make sure she hadn't been burned, and picked up a nearby mop to clean up the mess she'd made.
The businessman walked toward her and stood silently behind the counter, watching as she calmly finished mopping up, then put away her cleaning supplies. Her hands were steady as she washed them in the sink.
At last, she turned to him, her chin up, her beautiful eyes shuttered. "What can I get you today, sir?"
For months, he'd thought of her as frail. Now, he realized just how strong she really was, partly because of the set of her mouth as she waited for his response, partly because of how well she carried the child inside of her.
He would help both of them. No matter what.
"I'd like to talk to you."
Her mouth tightened, that flash of fury he'd remembered so well coming back into her eyes as she replied, "The special roast this month is from Jamaica, if you'd like to try that."
He nodded. "Fine." But even as relief began to loosen her shoulders, he said, "I'll wait here until your next break."
Barely veiled irritation informed her movements for the next thirty minutes. She sighed as she untied her apron. Her long cotton top floated over her belly now, making her look even younger.
She knew the man was waiting for her, but she had no intention of dealing with him. Even if a part of her was curious about why he wanted to talk to her. And especially because he was even better looking now than he'd been that awful day when he'd pushed her down on the sidewalk and actually stepped on her.
She didn't owe him anything.
She turned and disappeared into the cramped back area where the employee lockers were. The last thing she expected was for the man to push in through the door a moment later.
Working to ignore the way her heart was pounding, she said, "Only employees are allowed back here."
"I'm sure Joe would be happy to make an exception for me." At her confused look, he explained, "My company funded the owner's expansion."
"Fine," she said, mimicking his earlier tone when he'd bought the coffee he hadn't asked for. Not wanting to draw this out, she asked point-blank, "What do you want?"
Instead of giving her a direct answer, his gaze moved to her stomach. She barely resisted the urge to try to cover herself with both hands.
"You're pregnant."
She all but snarled, "Obviously,"
His wince was there and gone so fast she almost thought she'd imagined it.
"Are you - " She was amazed to see him falter, even for a split second. "Is everything going okay with the baby?"
"Yes, the baby is perfect."
"Where do you live?"
She gave him a look that clearly said she thought he was crazy. "You don't even know my name. Do you actually think I'm going to tell you where I live?"
"Jo." Her eyes widened before he reminded her, "Your name tag was on your apron," and then, "My name is Graham."
She looked down at the cheap watch on her wrist. "My break's just about up now and since the baby is sitting on my bladder, I've got about thirty seconds to get to the bathroom before I'm needed behind the register again."
If she'd expected him to be bothered by talk of bodily functions - or to finally get the picture and leave - she was disappointed. Still, she really did have to go, so she walked into the bathroom. After taking care of business and washing her hands, she stared at herself in the mirror, schooling herself in what she needed to say to the man. To Graham.
She took a deep breath to steel herself for it, then stepped into the back room where she knew he'd still be waiting for her.
He was too big for the small area.
And too darkly handsome for her peace of mind.
"I'm fine." She held her hands out from her body so that he could really see her and her huge baby bump. "That day on the street, what happened was an accident." One that had infuriated her into actually yelling at a stranger. "I shouldn't have lost it on you." He watched her silently. "Now if we're done rehashing all that, I have to get back to work."
But as she tried to walk past him, he said, "I own a two-bedroom condo that I haven't had any luck renting out. It's in a good neighborhood and one of the women in the building runs a small daycare on the ground floor."
Whatever she'd expected him to say, it wasn't this.
"I already have an apartment." In a crappy neighborhood where she honestly didn't like the idea of having a newborn.
"Please, Jo, let me do this for you."
He'd said please, but even then she could hear the steel in his words that told her he wouldn't take no for an answer.
Only, she had just as much steel in her.
"Thanks for the offer, but you'll have to find another tenant."
She walked out and got back to work, knowing all the while that victory was only temporarily hers...because the odds of a determined man like Graham taking no for an answer were next to nil.
As the cameras stopped rolling, Valentina realized her face was wet. What she was watching wasn't real, but even surrounded by lights and cameras, it was almost impossible to remember that.
Surreptitiously, she bent her head and used the tips of two fingers to wipe her tears away while reminding herself not to feel foolish for having gotten caught up in the emotion of the scene. After all, no one was paying any attention to her, and they were filming a truly beautiful story.
But when she lifted her head, she saw that she was wrong.
Smith was paying attention...and his eyes were full of something so sweet that she couldn't quite tamp down on the response of her body from nothing more than one look from him.
It had been more than a week since he'd sought her out in her office and caught her saying embarrassing things about his hands up her skirt to George on the phone. For the first few days after their conversation, she'd been edgy anticipating how Smith might make his next move.
But as each day passed into the next, she became more and more certain that despite what he'd said about not giving up, in the end he'd decided to take her refusal to date him at face value.
She was happy about it. At least, she tried to be happy about it, if for no other reason than the simple fact that she should be happy his attention had come and gone so quickly. It meant she could relax and keep her focus where it belonged - on her sister - rather than on a man who was too seductive, too damn alluring, for her own good.
An hour later, after double checking that her sister had everything she needed for an Elle fashion shoot the following morning, Valentina yawned behind her hand and headed back to her on-set office to collect her laptop. Tatiana wasn't the only one who'd be on the beach the next morning at sunrise for the photo shoot. Fortunately, no one would be taking Valentina's picture, so that meant she could put in a few more hours behind the computer tonight at home without anyone giving her grief about the dark circles under her eyes come morning.
She opened the door to her trailer office and the fresh, delicate scent hit her first.
One perfect lily of the valley was laid across her laptop. The little white flowers that ran up the length of the stem were so beautiful her breath caught in her throat.
There was no note attached...but that didn't stop her from understanding that she hadn't been forgotten at all, because she was all but certain that the flower had come directly from the patch in Smith's front garden.
And judging by the stem's ragged end and the way a couple of the blooms at the bottom were slightly smushed by big hands, he'd picked it for her himself.
Jo, the heroine of Gravity, had a dream of owning a flower shop, and there was enough of the language of flowers in Smith's movie for Valentina to know what the meaning of this particular flower was.
Sweetness.
She didn't bother to try to convince herself that Smith had given her just any random flower. No, she'd spent enough time lying to herself lately, and she was too tired right now to do it yet one more time.
Smith, she knew with a certainty that sent a fragile warmth moving through her chest, knew exactly what he was doing. He could have sent her any message in that language, could have given her a yellow rose for friendship or a pink rose for desire. Even, perhaps, a red-petaled impatiens to signify that he, too, was losing patience.
Instead, he'd given her a flower that spoke to something else entirely, to hopes and dreams she hadn't ever thought to let become reality.
It would be safer, better in the long run no doubt, to put the flower in the trash and let the overnight cleaning crew take it.
Carefully, Valentina lifted it and inhaled deeply. No one had ever given her a flower before.
And she couldn't possibly throw away something so beautiful.