Chapter Eight
Valentina woke with the same sinking feeling in her stomach that she'd gone to bed with. She'd been so flipped out over the thought of Smith and her sister posing for "romantic" pictures in a magazine - even though they would be completely in character, clothes and all - that she'd fled without remembering to thank him for the flower and breakfast. And that was on top of her completely unprofessional mini-meltdown over her mother's visit.
She dropped her head into her hands as she sat on the side of her bed. For so long she'd been able to push these kinds of feelings away. Why was she having such trouble doing that now?
And why did she have a sinking feeling that the answer had Smith's name written all over it?
Even worse, why was it starting to feel like he might also be the cure for her swirling, conflicting emotions?
With mechanical precision she showered, brushed her teeth, dried her hair, applied her makeup, and slipped on one of her suits. No matter what happened today, she'd be professional. And she would keep her emotions off the set and away from Smith Sullivan.
Once on set, she headed into her office to put down her bag and was planning to turn right around to finally say a polite thank you to Smith for the flower and breakfast, when she found something new on her desk.
Maybe she should have been prepared. After all, it was the third morning in a row that Smith had put something special on her desk for her to find when she got in.
But how could she have possibly prepared for this?
With trembling hands she put down her leather bag and reached for the wooden frame. The black and white picture wasn't big, but it was beautiful.
She and Tatiana were laughing together on the set. One of her hands was on her sister's shoulder, while Tatiana had one around Valentina's waist. They'd always been so easy with their affection, had been curling up together under the covers to watch movies, and giggle, and comfort each other since her sister was a baby. Valentina had never thought twice about how natural it was to reach for her, to hold her, to laugh with her.
Their closeness wasn't something she took for granted, but seeing it captured so beautifully made her see it anew for what it was.
Yet again, Smith had made sure she saw the gift first, his note second. She didn't put down the frame as she picked up the sheet of paper with her free hand.
Valentina,
This picture was one of the candids Larry has been taking of the cast and crew. You and Tatiana are so easy. Sweet. Perfect.
Looking at how happy you are in this picture makes me smile.
Smith
Just as she'd done the previous morning when he'd given her breakfast, she re-read the note several times, until his words were tattooed on her memory.
No wonder he'd been able to write such a beautiful screenplay, if he could capture so much with so few words. Words that were right. So right that all the things he had said he believed love could be were in this picture. Neither she nor her sister was trying, and neither of them was afraid of love being ripped away.
The love between them just was. And the deep, intrinsic knowledge that nothing would, that nothing could ever pull them apart, made it even more precious.
A few moments later, it wasn't the photo that she lifted to press to her lips as she took a shaky breath and worked to clear her gaze. She didn't know how it was possible, but the short, beautiful note even smelled like Smith: clean, sexy man.
She knew how powerful actors usually behaved. She'd seen enough of them give her mother diamond bracelets and expensive trips - even a car once. One call to an assistant and each of those gifts were dispatched, much to her mother's joy.
And yet, the flower, breakfast, and now a black-and-white photo that she'd treasure forever, meant so much more than glittering jewelry or any other expensive toy ever could.
Smith was balancing a dozen responsibilities on this film, between acting, producing and directing. She'd heard him talking with more than one member of his family on the phone during quick breaks, especially his pregnant sister Sophie, whom he checked in on every single day.
And yet, somehow in the middle of more pressure than any person should be able to withstand, he was doing this for her, too. She put in long hours and got in earlier than most of the crew, but his hours made hers look borderline lazy.
He didn't have the time to waste on her. Because that's what it had to be in the end, didn't it?
A waste.
Yes, if she gave in to his wooing, they would likely end up having hot sex. Her entire body tingled at the thought of just how hot sex with Smith would likely be.
But even while she schooled herself to get over the crazy fantasy of one night with him, a voice in her head forced her to listen as it whispered that being with Smith wouldn't just be hot...it would also be easy. Sweet.
And perfect.
* * *
Valentina knocked on Smith's trailer door, though it was already open. She valued her privacy enough to value everyone else's, too. Especially that of a man who rarely got to have any.
"Come in."
With his deep, inherently sensual voice rasping up her spine, her first thought was the same one she always had when she saw him.
Gorgeous.
Followed immediately by sexy.
And then want.
But close on their heels was another.
Tired.
For the past few weeks, Smith's energy hadn't flagged, hadn't waned, nor had she ever once caught him complaining. But for the very first time, he looked worn down.
Her protective urges jumped to the fore. "Is everything okay?"
He got up from his desk to pour her a cup of coffee. "Much better now that you're here."
God, it was so hard to keep fighting her feelings for him. Because she liked him. Wanted him, too, with a desperation that was breaking her down, slowly but surely, every second he was near.
And when he wasn't.
"I know how busy you are," she began, but she was sick and tired of stalling around him. She'd always prided herself on being direct. Forthright. And appreciative when someone was kind. It was precisely what she'd taught Tatiana. And, she knew, what her mother had taught her before that.
Valentina moved closer to him this time, rather than farther away. "I forgot to say thank you yesterday for the flower. For breakfast. And, especially, for the photo. You didn't have to." She smiled at him as she said, "But I can't deny that I'm glad you did."
When the mirror of his smile came, it took away some of the exhaustion stamped into his nearly perfect features. "It was my pleasure, Valentina."
He handed her the drink and their fingertips brushed as she took the mug from him.
Only, it wasn't coffee she wanted as the word pleasure zinged around inside her head and body like a pinball.
"How do you do it?" she asked him before she could stop herself. "How do you keep all the balls in the air and give so much of yourself while still keeping it all together?"
"Keeping it all together?" He gave a slightly harsh laugh. "Jesus, Valentina, can't you see that it's killing me?"
"Directing, producing, and acting all at the same time is a tough order," she agreed.
His eyes grew darker as he said, "I can handle all of that."
She could feel the quicksand pulling her in, deeper with every word tossed out between them, with every moment she spent with Smith in his office. That quicksand had to be the reason she couldn't leave. The reason she couldn't even consider making herself go.
Her lips felt dry, too dry, and she had to wet them before asking, "Then what's killing you?"
A low groan left his lips as his gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second, then back up to her eyes.
"Not doing this."
His mouth was on hers before her heart could pound out its next beat and even though she'd come here to thank him for his thoughtful gift - not to kiss him! - somehow she was in his arms and they were kissing like he'd been away to war and had finally come home to her.
No one had ever kissed her like this. With such warmth. With such need.
And with such perfect, sweet passion.
All the things she'd ever heard about the earth spinning too fast and blood rushing and limbs going numb...they were all happening. The kiss grew hotter, deeper, more and more intense with every second that their lips and tongues collided.
Never. She'd never felt desire this intense from a man...or from herself. And yet, even as their mouths took them into more and more dangerous territory, Valentina knew it was just one more piece of the puzzle they'd been building together. Because even in this one kiss, right alongside need and heat were all the other things that connected them: family, laughter, and an easy compatibility that she couldn't remember having with anyone other than her sister.
For the first time in her life, Valentina gave herself over entirely to a man. Not only because Smith's kiss demanded it, but because she wanted nothing more than to feel.
Everything.
Everything she'd dreamed of for so long.
Everything she'd longed for in the secret hours of the night when her defenses came down.
Smith's mouth moved over hers, his hands cupping her h*ps and pulling her in tighter before making a slow path up her back to her shoulders and then into her hair. Valentina finally let herself embrace the freedom to feel, to desire and be desired...and most of all, to pretend for a few short moments that there were no consequences to this kiss.
* * *
Smith had thought about kissing Valentina so many times, had come close enough to her mouth on enough occasions, that he'd already decided how she would taste.
Sweet like spun sugar, with just the slightest kick of exotic spice.
As a connoisseur of women, he was good. Good enough that when his lips had finally met hers, and his tongue had slid against hers on a groan of deep-seated need, he'd found out just how close he was.
But not nearly close enough, because Valentine tasted better than any of the sweetest, most succulent treats he'd ever had.
So much better, he thought as he cupped the back of her neck to pull her in closer to brush his lips over hers again and again. He loved each and every one of the little gasps and moans she made as he found the sensitive corners of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, and then the fullness of her lower lip with the very edge of his teeth.
As long as he could remember, he'd been in complete control. With women. And roles. Even, once he'd adjusted to the demands of fame, with the press and his fans.
But in the span of one kiss with Valentina, the passion, the desire, the way it spiraled the second his mouth touched hers and his hands met curves that were so much softer than he ever would have guessed...well, he wasn't in control of any of it, not even for a second.
One kiss had been all it took to confirm not only how deep her passion lay, but also that neither of them had a prayer of fighting gravity, even if he was the only one who had accepted that truth.
When they finally drew apart to drag much-needed oxygen into their lungs, he let himself appreciate the few precious seconds he had left of Valentina still being soft in his arms, her eyes cloudy with stunned pleasure.
Smith didn't claim to always understand women, but he wasn't as clueless as some guys. Valentina had wanted that kiss...just as much as she hadn't.
He wouldn't let her regret it. But he couldn't let her overthink it, either.
She kept her hand flat on his chest, almost as if she was bracing herself while her eyes cleared little by little. But then they clouded over again, this time with alarm.
She was pushing against his chest and saying, "Smith, I didn't - " when he gently cut her off.
"I have something else for you."
He forced himself to release her even though the caveman inside him told him he needed to finish claiming his woman before she could get away. During the past two decades, it had been easy to put love and relationships on the back burner. Even his longer, more serious relationships hadn't ever been with someone he would sacrifice everything for, were nothing like what his parents or brothers and sisters had in their relationships.
But Smith knew chemistry. After all, it was his job to create it with each and every one of his co-stars. Yet, even to him, the chemistry between him and Valentina was extraordinary. And, whether she was ready to accept the truth of it or not, inevitable.
He never wanted to act out a part with her, and he never had before now, which meant he couldn't force the easy smile he knew would help as he said, "I was going to give this to you tomorrow morning, but now seems like a better time."
Smith could see the gears in her brain working, questioning why he'd sidestepped their kiss altogether...and, possibly, why he wasn't asking for another one. Or to take things to the next level.
"I can't accept any more gifts from you," she said, the sensual quality of her voice that she usually held back in full force after their kiss.
What, he couldn't stop himself from wondering even though it only made his unfulfilled desire for her more excruciating, would she sound like as she came apart in his arms, her neat and tidy hair messy from his hands and spread out across the pillow?
All of the blood that hadn't already rushed south took a trip in that direction as he imagined the heat of her skin, the sexy rasp of her voice, as she lay sated and sweet beneath him in the few moments he'd give her to recover before he took her again.
He picked up a white envelope from his desk. "Let me give you one more, Valentina."
She sucked in a sharp breath as if he'd just asked her for another kiss rather than to open the envelope to find out what was inside. And maybe that was why she finally took the envelope from him, because it was the lesser of two evils: the gift or his mouth back on hers.
She slid open the flap and pulled out two tickets. He saw the surprise first, and then the pleasure she couldn't hide.
"Alcatraz? When I called they said all the tours were sold out for the next two months." She looked back down and read the fine print. "These tickets are for tomorrow night."
"I haven't been to Alcatraz since my fourth-grade field trip."
She gripped the tickets tighter. Again, he watched her gears churn. Up, down. Forward, back.
Finally, she said, "The fourth grade was a long time ago."
"It sure was. My memory is pretty fuzzy by now."
He didn't want to force her to take him with her, but he sure as hell wasn't going to turn her down when good manners dictated she do just that.
With the grace and poise she radiated everywhere from the boardroom to the set, she finally asked him, "Would you like to see it again?"
"I sure would."
He thought she gave a small sigh of resignation before she said, "Okay, then. Why don't you join me?"
He didn't have to force his smile this time. "I'd love to."
"I should get back to my office." But instead of moving toward the door, she said, "About that kiss."
"It was a great kiss, wasn't it?"
She flushed, but didn't try to deny that he was speaking the truth. "Yes," she said in that innately super-sexy voice that put him right back on the edge of grabbing her for another one, "it was a great kiss. But - "
"I want to kiss you again, too, Valentina."
She made a sound of frustration and even that had his body reacting. "Whether you or I enjoyed the kiss is irrelevant. I can't kiss you again." Before he could do anything more than raise his eyebrows at her emphatic statement that they both knew didn't do a darn thing to erase the heat between them, she said, "And you know why. We've already talked about this."
"We did," he agreed, "but why don't you tell me again why you won't go on a date with me."
"You're an actor."
Smith had been telling stories for long enough to know a thing or two about pacing. The time had been right earlier to take a kiss they'd both needed, and then, on the heels of all that heat, to push her for the invite to Alcatraz. He figured he had just a little more wiggle room left.
"After that kiss, I think you'll agree that I deserve another reason, one that doesn't lump me in with a bunch of self-obsessed scum."
"You're one of the biggest movie stars in the world, and people are dying to know anything they can about you, including whom you choose to date." She shook her head. "I can't imagine anything worse than being in the spotlight. And if I were to go out on date with you, that's exactly where I'd end up. "
Of all the problems Smith had with finding the right woman these past few years, this hadn't been one of them. The women in his world always loved the spotlight, so much that he'd wondered if he'd ever find one who wanted him for any other reason.
But he didn't doubt for one second that Valentina was telling him the truth. Especially not when she'd said "I can't imagine anything worse than being in the spotlight" with such vehemence.
"Look," she said in a much gentler tone, "we have to work together for the next few weeks. If we're going to go see Alcatraz together tomorrow, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be under the false assumption that this," she gestured between the two of them, "is ever going to happen again."
At thirty-six, Smith had fame, he'd made a fortune, he'd traveled and partied and thrown himself into his work for two decades. Now he was ready for what came next: to be with a woman he not only desired, but with whom he could share his life, his dreams. A woman with whom he could grow old. He was also ready for kids to play with on the beach, to throw balls with in the park, to let loose with their cousins at a family party.
So even though he'd heard Valentina's reasons loud and clear, and even though he couldn't deny that his life came chock full of spotlights, Smith refused to give up. Not when something told him that she might very well be the one...and that if he didn't fight like hell for her, he'd never stop cursing himself for a fool.
"How about this? I won't kiss you again until you ask me to."
She barely hesitated before saying, "I'm not going to ask you to kiss me again."
"Yes," he said softly, "you will."
She blinked at him. Once. Twice. Three times before saying, "I still don't understand why you're trying so hard when I've given you every reason to let me go."
He wouldn't kiss her until she asked, but he'd said nothing about putting limits on touching her. He moved closer again, close enough to reach for the tip of her ponytail and run his fingers through her long, soft hair.
"Ask me to kiss you again, and I'll remind you of one of the reasons."
The look she gave him said, Nice try, even as she said, "You must have shared plenty of hot kisses with other women."
"Not that hot. Not even close." He paused just long enough to let his fingers slide from her hair down to the exposed skin above the collar of her fitted wool jacket. She shivered beneath this barest of touches. "And neither have you."