Desert Rain (20 page)

Wrong again, Holly said. High fashion is a very small part of the industry.

Industry? he asked scornfully.

Precisely. Everybody who wears clothes is part of it. Even you. Fashion is part of the
gross national product just like cars, candy bars, and computers.

With a tight, frustrated gesture, Linc ran his fingers through his hair.

Fine, he said, his voice grudging. Fashion is a flaming national asset. Is it more
important to you than being with me?

Why dont you come to Cabo San Lucas with me? Holly countered. Then well not only be
together, but youll also see what modeling isand isnt.

I have work to do. Real work.

And just how is raising overpriced horses for rich men more important work than mine? she
challenged.

Raising horses isnt work, its my life.

Yes, I know.

Lincs expression changed, showing more surprise than anger.

Is that what youre trying to say? he asked slowly. Modeling is yourlife?

Its part of me.

More important than what we could have?

Im not making you choose between me and your work, Holly said desperately. Why are you
making me choose?

He turned away, walked across the room, and began pulling clothes out of his closet.

Ill drive you to the airport, he said.

She crossed the room quickly and stood behind him. Tentatively her fingers traced the
muscled ridges of his back. Her arms slid around his body in a hug.

I love you, Holly said softly.

She felt him stiffen, then let out his breath in a long sigh.

Gently he unwrapped her arms from around his body and turned to face her.

Dont love me, he said, his voice rich with anger and sadness.

But

Loving me will hurt you more than anything I could do to you. And in spite of what I think
of models, I dont want you hurt.

I dont understand, Holly said in a low voice.

Linc gathered her hands and kissed her fingertips tenderly, watching her with eyes that
were far too dark.

Love is a game for masochists, Holly. You cant win, you cant stay even, and you cant get
out of the game.

I dont believe that, she said shakily. You will. Linc released her hands. Get dressed, he
said, turning away. You dont want to be late for work.

Hollys smile was brilliant. It ignored the hot needles of fatigue that stitched across her
shoulders and made her thighs quiver beneath the flowing, sea-green chiffon gown.

Behind her reared the desolate splendor of the rocks that formed Cabo San Lucas. Barren,
weathered, shimmering beneath the brutal tropical heat, the heaps of stone endured the sun
and sea that would eventually destroy them.

A desultory breeze lifted clinging folds of chiffon from Hollys sticky skin. The fragile
cloth rippled and gleamed, echoing the waves swelling toward the brutally hot sand.

The net of diamonds around her throat sparkled like drops of water flung from a breaking
wave. Late afternoon light turned her eyes to gold and made even the jagged rocks look
velvety, almost inviting.

The director raised his bullhorn.

Right, he said in a clipped voice.

Holly held her breath and let herself hope that the shoot was finally over.

Again, the director said. But get Shannons hair first.

Damn, she said under her breath.

She put her fists in the small of her back and knuckled hard on knots of burning muscles.
Her body was cramped from hours of bending and turning and posing on the uneven ground.

The motion sequence she was doing now was easier physically, but mentally it was
infinitely worse. Walking down to the water and standing ankle-deep in foam was easy.

Stepping into Rogers arms and looking eager for his embrace was not.

It was bad enough to be held by a man who was not Linc. To be kissed was unbearable.

For the hundredth time Holly wished that Roger had chosen a stranger, rather than himself,
to be the Royce male model. It would have been easier for her to ignore desire in a
strangers eyes.

With outward patience she stood while the stylist fussed over her long hair.

Bloody damned nuisance, the stylist muttered. Whatever I do, the wind will undo before I
turn around.

Tell me about it, Holly said sardonically. My scalp is raw from all the combing.

With a complete lack of sympathy, the stylist raked the brush through her long hair again.

Holly sighed and stood still, enduring what was necessary for her profession. Roger wanted
her hair unbound, rippling and lifting in the wind like a midnight cloud. The effect would
be sensuous and

romantic.

If it ever worked.

The air moving off the sea was sultry, salty, and uncertain. It turned Hollys hair into
tangled strings. The unpredictable breeze also required her to hold poses until her
muscles cramped while the photographer waited for the generator-driven fans and nature to
stop fighting for control of her long hair.

At least the still photos are almost done, she thought.For that small blessing I give
thanks.

One more crack from Jerry about icicles and Ill shove his camera down his throat.

After a final brutal sweep with the brush, the stylist trotted off the set, leaving Holly
to the elements once more.

Shannon, are you awake out there? the director yelled through the bullhorn.

She gritted her teeth and waved.

Remember, the director continued, this is supposed to simply ooze sensuality. When you
meet the man of your dreams, be wearing a Royce.

She waved again.

Remember the theme, the director yelled. Its the man of your secret dreams walking out of
the water, not some stranger!

Ive read the script, Holly called.

Then bloody well act like it!

Then bloody well get on with it! she yelled.

There were sidelong looks around the set. Before this shoot, Holly had had a reputation as
the least temperamental of models.

No longer.

The crew had seenand heardmore of her temper in the last five days at Cabo San Lucas they
had in the last five years.

Action! yelled the director.

Automatically Holly followed the directions in the script. She waited for a wave to break
on the shore. Then she turned languidly and bent over, trailing her fingertips through the
water that foamed lightly across her feet.

She tasted the salt on her fingertips with a lingering touch of her tongue. Then, slowly,
she arched her back and lifted her long hair into the wind.

She looked sad and wistful and very much alone, a woman longing for her lover.

The expression came easily to Hollys face. She had been aching for Linc since he had left
her at the airport five days ago.

She had called him three times.

The housekeeper had answered each time.

Linc had not returned the calls.

Makeup! yelled the director.

With an irritated jerk of her head, Holly dropped her arms. Impatiently she waited for the
makeup man to come out and repair whatever damage the director had spotted.

Roger was farther out in the water, just behind the place where waves curled over into
thunder and foam. Swearing, he dove through the breaking waves and started wading toward
her. His path was the incandescent wake of the sun across the face of the sea.

Quickly he came ashore and stood by Hollys side, watching her with a mixture of sympathy
and worry. He had worked with enough volatile women to know that the normally unflappable
Holly was very close to slipping the leash on her temper.

Under the eyes, the director instructed through the bullhorn. Gloss the lips while youre
about it. Roger stood very close, examining her critically. You really should try sleeping
at night, he said. I do try.

Then try succeeding, he said in a clipped voice.

Holly started to retort, but the makeup artist shut her up by applying gloss with a heavy
hand.

The hair stylist rushed forward again, ever alert for the opportunity to brush her hair
into a flyaway cloud of black silk.

The makeup man went to work erasing unwanted shadows under her eyes. I sleep just fine,
Holly said the instant her lips were free. Rot, Roger said. Ive heard you pacing your
balcony all night, every night. She compressed her lips and said nothing.

There was nothing she could say. She had slept only a few hours a night since Linc had
dropped her at the airport without so much as a goodbye kiss.

Ill tiptoe from now on, she said tightly. Sorry to keep you awake.

Im more worried about your sleep than mine.

Dont be.

Bloody hell, he snarled. I dont want the Royce Reflection to look like a half-starved,
overworked waif.

He made an impatient gesture when Holly started to argue.

Dont bother denying it, Roger said. Im the one who has had to take in your dresses down
here. Twice.

Sorry, Holly said again.

He swore.

I dont want apologies, I want you happy! he said.

Is that in my contract?

There was a taut silence.

Its that damned cowboy, isnt it? Roger asked finally.

Hollys face changed despite her efforts to show nothing. Then she pulled her professional
smile over her face like a mask.

Its the humidity here thats too rough, she said casually. A regular sauna. Guess Ill never
make a tropical princess.

It can be just as humid in Palm Springs, Roger pointed out. She just smiled again, a smile
as empty as her eyes. The makeup man finished and left as silently as he had come. Holly
hardly noticed.

Her whole attention was focused down the beach, beyond the roped-off area that kept the
curious public away from the set. She thought she had seen a man there, a tall, well-built
man, walking toward the water.

The man had moved like Linc.

Hollys heart stopped, then beat frantically. She stared out over the ocean, but could see
only a lean, muscular man silhouetted against the incandescent wake of the sun.

He dove into the brilliant colors and vanished. Whats wrong, love? Roger asked. Youre
shaking.

For a moment she couldnt answer. He turned away and called to the director. Wrap it up,
Roger yelled crisply. Shannon has had enough for today. No, Holly said. The stark refusal
stopped him. He looked back at her.

She didnt notice. She was too busy raging at herself that just the shadow of a powerful,
easy-moving man could upset her so much that she forgot where she was, who she was, why
she was here in sultry Cabo San Lucas.

This has to stop,Holly told herself harshly.I cant go on like a sleepwalker blundering
through a dissolving dream.

I owe Roger more than the shell of Shannon.

In the past she had pretended that Linc was nearby when she performed for the camera.

Ill just have to pretend again, using new memories they same way I used old ones.

New memories that were hot enough to melt the icy fear that came when she thought of his
words.

Dont love me.

Love is a game for masochists. You cant win, you cant stay even and you cant get out of
the game.

Yet she could no more help loving him than breathing.

This is the best time, Holly said to Roger. The light is like honey.

Therell be another afternoon tomorrow, he said.

The hurricane wont stall off the coast forever. Tomorrow might be too late.

But

Ready! she called out to the director, cutting across Rogers protest.

And this time she was.

She pulled her memories of Linc around her, wrapping herself in shimmering sensuality. She
remembered the moment when she woke up in Lincs arms, his warm tongue teasing her lips,
making her smile.

Jerry, who was on the sidelines taking still photos for the magazine campaign, crowed
triumphantly. Thats it! God, babe, thats fantastic!

Quiet! the director shouted.

Holly heard Jerry and the director as though they were at the end of a long tunnel.
Wrapped in memories, she radiated a sensual hunger that was all the more compelling
because her face was shadowed with loneliness.

Wind swirled around her. It caressed her skin, lifted her hair, and billowed the countless
layers of sea-foam chiffon, revealing the perfect curves of her legs.

Light poured over her like a lover made of molten gold.

Roger, wet with salt water, his hair in artistic disarray, walked out of the breakers
toward her. A black mask and snorkel dangled from his left hand. Slanting light picked up
the gleam of water trickling down his tanned skin. Black swim briefs clung to his athletic
body.

Holly watched him walk forward and mentally fitted Lincs likeness over Roger.

It didnt work.

She closed her eyes and tried again.

The directors frustrated comments bounced off Hollys concentration. She held out her hand
and let herself be pulled into Rogers arms.

His head bent slowly toward her. He kissed her with cool lips as he had all afternoon,
kisses that were meant to appear sexy but were simply part of the script.

Then his arms tightened and his tongue shot between her teeth, trying to change a stage
kiss into something much more intimate.

After an instant of shock, Holly stiffened her arms against Rogers chest and angrily
shoved away from him.

Cut! yelled the director.

He strode down the beach, bullhorn in hand.

Shannon, what in bloody hell is wrong with you? the director demanded.

Ask Roger.

The director turned to his boss.

Roger sighed, shrugged, and glanced at Holly.

Sorry, love, he said to her. Youre such an overwhelming temptation.

Im supposed to be, she said coolly. Thats the whole idea of the campaign. Your idea.
Remember? Anact .

Roger smiled charmingly, but there was real masculine hunger beneath his polished surface.

Women who look like you need more than kissing, he said quietly.

With a hissed word, Holly turned her back on him.

Roger took the directors arm and walked the angry man back up the beach, talking to him in
soothing tones.

Holly didnt bother to listen. Her eyes were closed and her whole body was tight.
Motionless, she fought her instinctive revulsion at being kissed so intimately by any man
but Linc.

Actresses kiss men like that all the timeand hate most of them, if the gossip is true,she
reminded herself savagely.

Surely I can be kissed by a good friend without freezing up.

Yet even as Holly lectured herself, she doubted that she could bear another intimate kiss
from Roger without going for his eyes like an outraged cat.

Technicians rushed with frantic speed around her, adjusting lights and reflectors, reading
light meters, cursing.

She knew why. The lighting of the scene was crucial. Her face had to be illuminated mostly
by the setting sun rather than artificial light. Rogers face had to be almost entirely in
shadow.

And the sunset behind them had to radiate all the colors of desire. To achieve the three
effects at once was a feat that had the technicians in a frenzy. Is Roger in place? yelled
the director.

Holly shaded her eyes and looked into the dazzling reflections left on the surface of the
sea by the setting sun. The blaze of light blinded her, but she could make out a tall
masculine form walking out of the waves toward her.

She fought the coldness creeping up from her stomach. She didnt want Roger to touch her
again. Not like that. Were ready, Holly shouted. Action!

Once again she pulled her memories of Linc around her and went through the motions of a
woman watching the man of her dreams emerge from the sea.

Once again she held out her hand to him almost shyly, blinded by the dying sun. But before
the mans fingers touched hers, memories and reality collided. Linc!

He took her hand and pressed her palm against his lips.

Wind swept up Hollys dress and her hair, wrapping Linc in a sensual caress even as he
pulled her into his arms.

His lips were firm, sweet and salt, better than her memories, as wild and beautiful as the
setting sun.

She flowed against him, fitting herself to him without reservation, abandoning herself to
his potent heat. When she felt his tongue caress hers, she thought she would die of the
pleasure coursing through her.