Читать книгу Temptation on His Terms - Robyn Grady - Страница 8

Dex leaped forward. At the same instant, the gust from the vehicle—or, perhaps, her own fear—propelled Shelby back onto the curb. Off balance, she smacked into him, then toppled sideways toward the pavement. Before she hit concrete, he caught her in a dramatic low-slanted pose.

While she lay stiff at a thirty-degree angle, his arms suspending her weight, Dex found himself studying her face. Her eyes, fixed and round with fright, were actually the most unusual mint-green mixed with flecks of blue. A tiny scar interrupted the sweep of one eyebrow. This close, her lips looked so much fuller.

Those lips moved now, quivering as Shelby managed a few hoarse words.

“Seems I’m still getting used to the traffic.”

A second of inattention and she might have ended up in the hospital, or worse. Instead she was lying here, her back a foot off the ground, her mind spinning and nerve endings crackling with awareness.

This was a city where stories came to life. Right now she felt as if she were in a movie: a girl far from home almost demolished by a moment’s distraction. Instead she’d been saved with the help of a tall, tawny-eyed man, who felt so hot and capable holding her in this tango-type dip that, if she weren’t so dazed, she might well melt.

Dex carefully set her on her feet. As the numerous sounds and lights faded back up, Shelby schooled her expression, straightened her twisted dress and told her rabid pulse to quit pounding so wildly.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Everything except my pride,” she admitted. “I feel stupid.”

Judging from the curious looks of passersby, her incident was a bigger draw than Bernice’s show.

“That paper that whipped out of your bag,” he said. “It must’ve been important.”

She remembered and her heart squeezed. “Sentimental value,” she replied. Now that piece of her was gone forever.

Dex crossed to a nearby base-lit palm tree and swooped down. When he returned, the paper—a photo—was in his hand. Shelby’s breath let out in a rush. Accepting it from him, she pressed the picture close for a second then placed it in her tote, in a zipped compartment this time.

“A person I respect very much,” he said, “used to say that sentiment is never overrated.”

While now didn’t seem the right time to ask who that person might be, Shelby decided she’d like the opportunity to find out…maybe over a late dinner.

“Is that invitation to visit your scriptwriter still open?” she asked.

His face broke into a big white smile. “Rance and I would be honored.”

A few minutes later, he was opening the passenger-side door of a sleek black Italian sports car. After she’d slipped into the leather bucket seat and buckled up, the engine growled to life and the pristine machine rolled into a break in the traffic.

“Does this sort of emergency script thing happen often?” she asked, trying not to double-guess this decision or feel overwhelmed. Far too much had happened today. She wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up and found this had all been a dream.

“When you decide to make a movie,” Dex said, changing up gears, “there are all kinds of challenges.”

“I imagine a room filled with smoke,” she said, “and a man sitting at the end of a long table, tapping away madly on a typewriter while someone else paces back and forth, head down, hands clasped behind his back.”

Dex sent over a look.

“A typewriter?”

She reconsidered. “Guess that’s a little last-century.”

“They have heard of the internet where you come from, right?” he teased.

“Oh, sure. We put a cow on a treadmill to generate the extra electricity.”

He laughed, and that warm deepwater feeling swirled around her again.

“I’m not a native to these parts, either,” he offered. “I grew up in Australia.”

“That explains the accent. I thought maybe British.”

“We Aussies have better tans.”

In the shadows, her gaze swept over his neck, his hands. From what she could see, he was naturally beautifully bronzed.

“Australia’s halfway around the world,” she said, forcing her gaze away from his classic profile—the strong jaw and hawkish nose. “What made you move here? Fame and fortune?”

Or had he run away from something? It happened.

“My family owns Hunter Enterprises.”

“Which owns Hunter Productions, I presume.” His movie company.

He clocked down a gear to take a bend. “My mother was born near your neck of the woods.”

“Oklahoma?”

“Georgia, actually.”

“Um, hate to tell you, but Georgia’s nowhere near Oklahoma.”

“Oh dear. I am still new to town, aren’t I?”

Smiling, too, she settled more into her seat. “Back to your story…”

“My mother and father found each other at a Fox Theater event. Dad was taken with her Southern charm and beauty. He proposed the next month.”

She grinned. “Your daddy’s a romantic.”

“He sure did love my mom.” Dex’s thoughtful smile faded. “When she died a few years back, he married again.”

“A nice woman?”

“My father thinks so.”

Heading down a less busy stretch of road, he stepped on the gas. With the engine growling and scenery slicing by, she waited for him to say more about his stepmom, but he didn’t, which seemed to say a lot.

Soon they rolled into a wide private drive situated in an upmarket neighborhood. A dark-haired man around her height answered the towering wood-paneled door. When he noticed her, the glare behind his trendy spectacles said he wasn’t pleased.

Shelby thought about turning on her heel and finding her own way back to her apartment. Instead she found the wherewithal to appear unaffected. She’d dealt with and survived those kinds of looks before.

The moment passed, introductions were exchanged and Rance Loggins invited them both inside.

Dex and Rance traded a few words as they moved down a glass-walled corridor that showcased the tropical gardens outside. In a room decorated in hardwood, gleaming steel and slate-gray leather, Shelby quietly took a seat on a cloud-soft sofa while Dex shucked off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

As he began going over the problem scene with Rance, Dex lowered himself down beside her—too close, Shelby thought, yet strangely not close enough. Whether having him save her from hitting the pavement earlier or the simple fact the other person in the room wasn’t thrilled at his surprise company, she felt somehow safer knowing Dex was close. Safer and also hyperaware—of his scent. Of his heat.

His thigh was only a reach away, obviously muscled, long and strong. Her focus shifted to his polished big black shoes. Those feet sure would thump around in a pair of cowboy boots.

“So, what do you think?”

With a start, Shelby brought herself back to the conversation. Dex had spoken to her, and both he and Rance were waiting for a reply.

“What do I think about what?”

Rance reiterated the scenario—Shelby was sure more for his and Dex’s benefit than hers.

“The female lead was the groom’s girlfriend until he cheated on her. Broke her heart. Later he proposed to her friend. She’s at the wedding reception and has bumped into her ex. Now they’re standing face-to-face.”

Dex thatched his fingers behind his head and stretched out those long trousered legs. “She needs to slap his face. Stomp his foot. Throw a drink in his face. We just need the words.”

“I’m telling you,” Rance said, “there’s no surprise in that. The audience will expect it.”

Shelby wet her lips, took a breath. She could see it all so clearly.

“She needs to speak up. She needs to speak to everyone there.”

Dex lowered his hands and studied her. “You mean confront him in front of the entire reception crowd about his cheating?”

“She’s classier than that,” Shelby said. “She’d gather herself and, never feeling more alone, in her cucumber-soup-stained dress, with everyone knowing and pitying her, she’d ask for the microphone and say what a gorgeous couple the bride and groom make. How she wished them every happiness. When she hands back the mic, with tears glistening in her eyes, the audience won’t applaud. As she walks away, weaving between tables then out wide arched doors that let in the sunshine, every guest is quiet. They’ve heard the rumors. In their hearts they already know. Reese and Kurt’s relationship won’t last.”

“You mean Jada and Pete’s relationship.”

Shelby blinked across at Rance and gave a thin smile.

“Sure,” she said. “That’s who I mean.”

Dex sat mesmerized. What just happened? Shelby had no experience with scripts or storytelling as far as he knew, and yet she’d enthralled them both with her rendition of how this pivotal scene ought to play out. Except…who were Kurt and Reese? And an even bigger question now was…behind that homegirl front, who was Shelby Scott?

Running a hand back through his shock of dark hair, Rance jumped up. “Let’s get that down.” He slipped in behind the laptop, pushing aside the hard copy, which was fanned out over the tabletop. “We’ll need more backstory.”

Three hours passed, during which Shelby joined Rance at the table, Chinese was ordered in and the scene ended up in great shape. On his fifth cup of coffee, Rance turned at enough of an angle to sling an elbow over the back of his chair.

“Do you write, Shelby?” he asked.

“Not my strength.” Shaking back her mane of mahogany hair, she admitted, “But I watch a lot of movies.”

Dex pushed away his empty box of chow mein. “Have an all-time favorite?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Bet I won’t.”

“I like silent movies,” she admitted. “I like Valentino.”

“So do a lot of women in L.A.” Rance stood and stretched his back. “The haute couture kind.”

She laughed, and Dex saw Rance’s face light in a way he’d never seen before. After a nasty bust-up, Rance hadn’t dated in over a year. Dex guessed that tonight his friend had decided the drought should end.

“I don’t have much interest in high fashion,” she said.

“You should.” Rance sauntered over to where she sat. “I’m sure high fashion would like you. The screen, too. I’m surprised Dex hasn’t offered you a read.”

“Of a movie role?” She set down her chopsticks. “I don’t much like talking in front of people unless they’re kids.”

While she explained her nanny background and how tonight’s meeting had come about, Dex mulled over her admission. He wasn’t sold. She had spoken in front of a crowd at least once in her life, and the mysterious Reese and Kurt had comprised the subject matter.

As if she’d read his mind, her green gaze hooked over and caught his. Then she studied the time on her drugstore wristwatch and declared, “I need to get home.”

“Beauty sleep?” Rance asked with a you’re beautiful enough shine in his eyes.

“Shift starts at seven.” She found her feet. She’d already explained her work as a waitress on The Strip.

“Shelby’s place serves the best cheeseburgers in town,” Dex said. “And the best coffee—when I can keep it in my cup.”

He and Shelby shared a private smile before she began collecting empty boxes. “I’ll clean up.”

“You’re my guest,” Rance insisted.

“Neither of you would let me pay my share. This is my contribution.”

“You’ve done enough with your help on that script,” Dex pointed out.

“More than enough,” Rance added.

But, her mind made up, Shelby had already gathered up the boxes.

When she was out of earshot in the kitchen, Rance readjusted his glasses.

“She’s not your regular flavor. At first I thought she was another wannabe actress hoping to ride on your coattails all the way up to leading-lady heaven.”

“And now?”

Rance held his heart. “I’m in love.”

That was Dex’s cue to laugh. But he didn’t. Instead he stood and offered his friend a warning.

“She’s off-limits.”

“I thought she said you liked her for a babysitting gig?”

“And I don’t need her distracted from her job.”

“This is for your little brother, right? A vacation. Some time building sand castles. Couple days doing Disneyland. You’re not signing Shelby to a five-year contract.” He tapped fingertips on top of his hard copy. “She might enjoy having a stab at a different kind of role.”

“Helping you with scripts?”

“Why not?”

He’d tell him why not.

“She’s young. A nice girl from a small town. She doesn’t need anyone confusing issues.”

“And I suppose you have no intention of throwing a few of your own complications in.”

Dex was about to set Rance straight. Certainly Shelby was a beauty in all senses of the word, but he wasn’t laying a trap for her. He didn’t plan on seducing her, no matter how much he might like to.

Shelby reappeared.

“So, we’re done here?” she asked.

Rance’s grin was wry. “For the time being.”

After goodbyes, Dex and Shelby were back on the road. He put the address she gave him into the GPS while mulling over Rance’s comments. Shelby had been in town a second, and already she was attracting attention because of her looks and intelligence. Her modest brand of charm. As he pulled the car out and headed down the street, Dex decided that he’d need to get her signed before someone else snapped her up as a babysitter, model, actress, script doctor or, possibly, wife. Things happened fast in this town.

He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Rance thinks you’re a natural.”

“Beginner’s luck.”

“Or legitimate talent.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Mr. Hunter.”

“The name’s Dex.”

“Either way, I haven’t changed my mind about working for you.”

He frowned across at her. “You believe me about Bernice, don’t you?” Gazing ahead, she nodded. “So what is it? You don’t enjoy Chinese? I have a housekeeper, so no chores there. I’ll get a cook in, too. Should have done it years ago.” She remained silent. “Did I mention your own suite overlooking the ocean?”

She turned her head away.

He tried to keep the annoyance from his voice. “You’re not giving me, or Tate, a chance.”

But she simply continued to gaze out at the Los Angeles streets whirring by. Dex gripped the wheel tighter. Man, she was stubborn. He only wished she wasn’t so darn attractive.

They arrived at Shelby’s apartment block, a modest complex situated in a nice enough neighborhood. Nevertheless, he cut off the engine and swung open his door to see her in. Shelby was already out and on the pavement.

“You don’t have to see me to the door,” she said as he joined her.

“This isn’t up for negotiation.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

But when she headed off, he followed. His mother had raised her sons to see women home properly. That went for Miss Independence here, too, whether she liked it or not.

When he headed up the path and passed her, she took a moment; then, out of options, she continued on, as well. At the entrance’s security door, however, she held her ground.

“Thank you for the evening. It was…different.”

“Thank you for the help.”

He was sure that when Rance returned from his week away, he would be checking out every café on The Strip to pass on his personal thanks, too.

Moving to key her code into the pad, she stopped to think and lowered her hand.

“I’m sorry I can’t see my way clear to help with your brother. It’s just…I think you’d do better with someone who’s more familiar with how your kind of circles work.”

“Shelby, I wouldn’t want you for this job if you were from those circles. I need a responsible caretaker for a five-year-old when his big brother can’t be around. I’m not after a hostess who can swing all the Hollywood ropes.”

When he saw a glimmer of maybe in her eyes, he had an idea.

Finding his cell phone, he brought up a video. “I shot this when I flew out to Australia last.”

Holding back a tumble of hair, she edged closer.

“That’s Tate?” she asked.

“Mucking around in the surf at a Sydney beach.”

With the summer sun at his back, Tate swayed as spent waves pushed up around his little legs then dragged back out to sea, almost sweeping him along, too. The tug finally brought him down onto his bottom. Splashing his hands in the wet sand, he giggled madly at the camera.

Shelby laughed, too, and when the video ended, she kept her gaze down. Eventually she hugged herself, then finally her head tilted and those incredible green eyes found his.

“He’s real cute,” she said.

“And smart. And loving. For a little kid, he gives the biggest bear hugs.”

Her smile grew again before fading into a thoughtful look. “This is the place where all kinds of stories come to life. But I don’t want to become a star, or even rub shoulders with the rich and famous. There’s way more ordinary folk live here than highflyers, and I never thought past working for an average family with a couple everyday kids. But you’re anything but average. When I’m with you, I have no idea what to expect next. I’m not a fan of surprises.”

“Sometimes surprises are good.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “Do you intend to have company over while your brother’s in your house?”

“If you mean women, I’m not seeing anyone. Even if I were, this is Tate’s time.”

Working his edge, he mentioned a salary figure and her eyes widened.

“Tate might not even like me,” she said.

“Don’t think we have to worry about that.” She thought some more.

“How long would you need me?”

“How does a six-month contract sound?”

She frowned. “His parents are okay with him being away that long?”

Dex hesitated. Shelby already thought his life was a whirlwind. No point revealing the more urgent reason behind Tate’s visit just yet. Whoever had planned those assassination attempts on Guthrie’s life had almost succeeded in kidnapping not only the Hunter patriarch but also his youngest son. Although the target had been Hunter Senior, never Tate, Guthrie wanted his baby boy well out of the way until this danger had passed. Unfortunately no one knew when that would be.

She wanted to know, why a six-month contract?

“I simply want to make it worth your while,” Dex replied, which was true.

When, clearly torn, she gnawed her lip, he prodded.

“Come on, Shelby. Say yes, for Tate’s sake.”

“I’d want to keep this place for days off and, well, in case things don’t work out.”

“Of course.”

After an eternity, she gave a small nod, then a smile. “Give me a start date and I’ll be there.”

He could have hugged her—and tight. Not a good idea. He’d be content with those few seconds he’d held her after that black sedan had nearly plowed her down. He was certain that kind of judgment glitch on her part wouldn’t happen again. Too close of a call.

“Let’s say Friday,” he said.

“That soon?”

“Tate’s here in a week. We need to get the place organized. Get provisions and equipment in.”

“Oh. Sure.” She drew her willowy frame up tall. “I can do that.”

“Shall we shake on it?”

She took his extended hand, and that transfixing sensation he’d experienced when he’d caught her earlier seized him again. Pleasant. Heart pumping. Inappropriate. He’d got what he needed and now he should count himself lucky and go. And yet after this simple skin-on-skin contact, suddenly he really wanted to stay. But that would require her asking him inside, which would never happen. He didn’t know her well, but she certainly wasn’t the kind to invite in a man she’d known less than a day for a drink.

A delicious heat spread over Shelby’s limbs, echoing in her chest, through to her core before she gathered herself and found the wherewithal to wind her hand away. Brushing her tingling palm down the side of her dress, she forced words past the thickness blocking her throat.

“I’ll be in touch,” she said.

“I look forward to it.”

Over the noise of distant traffic and a TV blaring from some nearby window, Dex’s voice sounded deeper. Gravelly and rich. Had he felt that amazing electric surge, too? The warmth had been so frighteningly tempting…enough to wonder if she ought to ask him to stay for a nightcap. Or wish she’d never met him at all.

She didn’t want to feel attracted to any man, particularly a man like Dex Hunter. Obviously he liked women. Women would sure as beans like him. And she didn’t want to get involved with anyone—not for any reason. Past experience was still too raw in her mind.

There was an awkward loaded moment where his lidded gaze stayed fused to hers as if he were waiting for that invitation in. When she lifted her chin, his shoulders rolled back, he tipped his head and while she entered the building, he proceeded to his car.

A moment later, inside her partly furnished apartment, Shelby moved to the bedroom, sat on the edge of the mattress and, thinking back, drew out the decades-old photo that had been torn away on that sudden gust. Not so long ago, she had ripped it into pieces. Then, before leaving Mountain Ridge for good, she’d painstakingly taped the bits together again.

The girls in the photo seemed like ghosts to Shelby now. One had hair the color of a chestnut; the other’s locks were as fair as a magnolia bloom. Friends since early grade school, they’d loved each other unreservedly. Had shared everything.

But some things were off-limits, even where best friends were concerned.