Finding Mr. Right Now (28 page)

He shrugged. “They haven’t offered me a contract yet, but they probably will. Particularly if Harriet’s still in charge.”

She frowned. He didn’t sound all that enthusiastic. “Don’t you want to go on working for Fairstein?”

He looked down at the floor for a moment, then shrugged again. “I may have to.”

“But you don’t want to.”

The corners of his mouth curved up slightly. “Not really, no. I’ve got a script in at El Capitan. Something I wrote with a friend. If they take it, I’ll get creator credit and with any luck we’ll write the rest of the scripts for the series, or at least some of them.”

Monica licked her lips. “El Capitan. They’re really…prestigious. If you were to get it, you’d be at a level way beyond anything Fairstein could offer you. You’d be up in premium cable territory.”

“If I were to get it. That’s the tough part.” He stared out the window at the night sky. “We still haven’t heard back from them. But my agent thinks there’s a good chance they’ll make me an offer.”

“That’s wonderful. I mean, that will be wonderful. Congratulations.” The hollow feeling in her chest seemed to have increased. She went on ignoring it.

He leaned back on his elbows. “Have you ever thought about leaving Fairstein?”

“You mean within the last five minutes?” She grimaced. “I think about it a lot. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to do it. Or where I’d go if I did.”

He turned back from the window to watch her face, his eyes dark in the moonlight. “You’re too good for them, Monica. They work you like hell and then they don’t give you credit for what you do. My guess is they probably don’t pay you a hell of a lot either, considering what they pay me.”

What else is new?
She took a quick sip of her wine. “A lot of production companies are like that. I’m not sure I’d be that much better off anywhere else.”

“A lot of production companies, but not all of them,” he said quietly. “With your experience, you could find something somewhere else. Somewhere better.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Believe me, I know. I’ve thought about it. I just need to get myself together and make that step.” She stared down at her wine again. How exactly had a hot date turned into a bitch session about Fairstein? Looked like her luck was running true to form. “Could we not talk about this right now? It gives me a stomach ache.”

“We don’t really have to talk at all if you don’t want to.” He reached across, taking the glass from her hand and placing it on the opposite bench. “Come here.”

She slid across to sit beside him on the sleeping bag. “Not much of a mattress, is it?”

“It’ll do.” He brushed his palm along her throat, his breath warm against her cheek.

“It’s sort of amazing they provide mattresses at all,” she stammered. “I mean, you’d think it would be against the public health laws or something.”

He paused, his hand resting against her collarbone. “Monica?”

She swallowed hard, trying to get her pulse to slow down. “Yeah?”

“Remember how you said you were going to say something stupid?”

She blew out a breath. “Oh yeah.”

“Nice call.” He grinned again, then brushed his lips across hers, his tongue sliding along the seam.

She turned toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck, then pulling herself tighter against his chest, feeling the muscles of his back flex beneath her fingertips. His tongue slid deeper as he angled his mouth over hers, his hands pulling the bottom of her shirt loose from her jeans so that he could move them underneath. Raw heat seemed to kindle inside her, spreading from her lips to her breasts to her core.

She brought her hands to cup his face, letting her tongue rub over his. Then her fingers skimmed across his shoulders and down, gliding along his spine. Her skin tingled with sensations, another kind of burning.

His hands dropped to her breasts, unfastening her bra and pushing it aside along with her shirt. He caught her nipples between his fingers, pulling them to hard points.

She pushed him back until he lay full-length on the sleeping bag and she was staring down at him, her hands braced against his chest.

“What do you have in mind?” His voice sounded hoarse in the silence of the wagon.

She let her lips edge into a grin. “I’m going to have my way with you. Okay?”

“Okay.” He grinned back, dropping his hands to his sides. “Be my guest.”

She reached for the button at his waist, pulling down the zipper, then pushing jeans and underwear down his hips so that his erection sprang free. His eyes were dark now in the dusk of the wagon, his breath rasping as he watched her.

She slid her hands to the top of his thighs, then dipped her mouth to follow, running her tongue along the delicate skin, tasting salt and musk. She cupped his sac, then circled the base of his shaft with her fingers, taking the head in her mouth.

His breath exhaled in a hiss, and his hands bunched in the sleeping bag beside his body. “Monica.”

“Sssh.” She plunged deeper, running the tip of her tongue along the ridge beneath his shaft, sucking and licking her way down.

“Monica!” His voice was more urgent now.

She paid no attention. The taste of him, the feel of him was intoxicating, like the champagne Ronnie chugged last night, only better. She gripped his thighs as she moved up and down, pushing him beneath her.

“Monica, now!” His voice rasped. “I need to be inside you now.”

Strong hands gripped her shoulders suddenly, pushing her to the side, spreading her legs. His arms looped beneath her knees, pulling them up to his shoulders, then he was plunging into her body. He stared down at her, his face rigid with strain, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders.

The depth and violence of his thrusts shook her. He seemed impossibly thick, stretching her as he struck deep within her. The pressure in her core bloomed hot and red, filling her with an ache that was almost pain, but more pleasure. He brought his thumb to her clit, rubbing back and forth until she cried out, locking her legs around his waist as the storm washed over her.

She felt him peak at almost the same time, his body becoming taut, then plunging into hers again wildly. He gasped for breath and then plunged hard again and again until he finally lay against her, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

“No finesse,” he panted after a long moment. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “Who needs finesse when you’ve got heat?”

“Heat.” He sighed. “Heat is right. That we’ve got.”

He turned on his side, pulling her with him, one hand rubbing along her back in lazy circles. She draped one leg across his hip, dropping her head to his shoulder.

“That was…good,” she whispered. “Really, really good.” She dropped back a bit to stare at his face. “And if you point out that was a stupid thing to say, I’m going to hurt you.”

He flashed her a quick grin, his eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Particularly not that.”

He tangled his fingers in her hair, bringing her head back to his shoulder again.

She let the drowsiness take her then, cuddling close against him, her muscles feeling as if they’d been turned to syrup. His arms came around her loosely, his forehead resting against her hair, his lips whispering along her temple. The lantern light cast shadows on the ceiling, leaving the length of the wagon in darkness. Her limbs felt so heavy she could hardly lift them, as if they were weighted. She closed her eyes, snuggling into the curve of his throat and shoulder.

“Monica?” he murmured.

Reluctantly, she forced herself back to semi-consciousness. “Hmmm?”

“What I was talking about before. You know, after this is all over.”

She sighed, feeling that pleasant lethargy begin to leave her body. Reality.
So
not what she wanted to talk about right now. “After this is all over. Right.”

“I wasn’t really thinking of Fairstein.” He ran his hand along her back, lightly.

“Okay,” she muttered.

“I was more thinking about, well, us. This.”

Her eyes popped open.
What the hell?
Weren’t guys supposed to avoid these conversations like the plague? “You were?”

“Yeah. I’d like to, well, go on with…this. Whatever this is. When we’re back in L.A. I mean, I’d like to go on seeing you. Would that be okay with you?” His forehead furrowed as he watched her. “Or do you have someone waiting for you?”

Someone waiting.
She hadn’t had anyone waiting on her for a long while. Maybe not since she’d let Fairstein Productions take over her life. Actually, she couldn’t remember when she’d had anything waiting except work. “No,” she said slowly. “I don’t have anybody. What about you?”

He blew out a long breath. “No. All I’ve got is a condo in Venice beach that I use for sleep. Between episodes.” His voice sounded bleak in the dimness—a lot like hers, now that she thought about it. “So do you want to get together when we get back?”

Amazingly enough, he seemed to be afraid she’d say no.
Silly man.
“Um…sure.” She grinned against his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

He blew out a breath. “Good. Great. That’s settled.”

He lay back again, looping his arms around her shoulders to hold her tight.

Sometime after midnight, Paul opened his eyes. He could hear the gentle patter of rain on the aspen outside and the slight ping of drops on the tin roof of the wagon. It was possible that Monica would want to go back to the resort tonight. Given that Glenn might call her at first light, she’d need to be in her room when he did.

He sighed. Someday he swore he’d get to spend an entire night with her. Maybe when they got back to LA, they could take some time off to be together. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that with anyone. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d
wanted
to do that with anyone. Maybe never. Monica was…different.

She felt warm and soft in his arms. There were few things he wanted less than to leave the protection of the wagon for the chilly rain outside. Maybe just a few more minutes…

A couple of hours later, he woke up for good.

“Monica,” he whispered.

She turned in his arms, muttering. Clearly, she didn’t want to get up any more than he did.

“Monica.” He raised his voice slightly.

After a moment, she stared up at him with drowsy eyes. “Hmmm?”

“Would you like me to take you back to your room?” he said reluctantly. “It might be a little easier to explain. Or we could stay here and wing it.”

She glanced around the wagon for a moment, as if she was trying to remember just where they were. “Damn,” she mumbled finally. “I guess I’d better go back.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to. Like I said, we could stay here and then go back tomorrow morning.”

“It’s already tomorrow morning.” She yawned, pushing herself up. “And we do have to. Or anyway, I have to. Realistically, that is.”

He brushed the hair back from her forehead gently. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t either. But my guess is Glenn won’t be any happier tomorrow, I mean today, than he was last night, and I’d rather not give him any more reasons to snarl at me.” She bent to the floor, picking up her underwear.

Paul sighed, reaching for his jeans. “Have I mentioned you’re too good for that job?”

“Yeah, you did. But even if that’s true, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s my job right now and I need to do it.” She stood up, pulling her shirt down over her jeans.

“Let’s go for it then.” He picked up his duffle from the floor and headed toward the door at the end.

“Paul?”

He paused, turning back toward her.

She reached up with both hands, pulling his mouth down to hers for a long, warm kiss, nibbling on his lower lip in a way that he felt all the way to the base of his spine. “Thank you. This evening was wonderful. I’ll never look at covered wagons the same way again.”

He slid his hands along her sides, molding the lush curves of her body. “My pleasure. Really. Definitely.”

Only a few of the lanterns beside the path were still lit, but the moonlight was bright enough to help them see where they were walking. Fortunately, the rainstorm had passed, but the wet gravel made for slow going. He held her hand, guiding her along the path until they stepped out into the brighter pool area.

Lights still burned in the bathhouse and around the grotto, but everything else looked dark and empty. An early morning wind rattled the aspen leaves and somewhere nearby something small rustled through the undergrowth. Paul turned quickly, checking for faces in the shadows. He had the sudden feeling of eyes burning into his back.
Drama. Knock it off.

Monica leaned against him quickly. “Is someone here?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Lots of someones. There’s a campground over on the other side of the pools. But I doubt anybody’s awake there.”

“Oh. My car’s in the lot behind the bath house.”