Heaven, Texas (19 page)

The memory almost pushed him over the edge, and he shoved his hips hard against hers. His aggressiveness didn't scare her one bit. Instead of trying to back away, she rubbed against him like a hot little kitten waiting to be scratched.

Right then and there he knew he wasn't nearly as much in charge as he wanted to be. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she began making sweet moaning sounds deep in her throat. Every muscle in his body had grown taut and his heart was slamming against his ribs. He was so hard he throbbed, and he wanted her with an urgency that scared the hell out of him.

He dimly realized the intruders in the parking lot had disappeared and he couldn't restrain himself a moment longer. Grasping the arms that were encircling his neck, he eased her far enough away from him so that he could look down at her breasts. They glimmered in the night shadows, and the small nipples pebbled as he gazed at her. Releasing her arms, he brushed the tips with his thumbs. She leaned back against the building, head to the side, eyes closed.

He dipped his head to suckle her. Her nipples stabbed at his tongue, hard little points aggressively demanding his attention. He drew them into his mouth, raked them with his tongue, sucked hard and long. At the same time, he clutched her hips and ground himself against her, treating her far more roughly than he'd intended, but it felt so good, so damned good, and the sounds of her throaty moans in his ears threatened to push him right over the edge. He slipped his fingers between her legs, against the denim seam, and knew he had to bury himself hard and deep inside her before he exploded.

He grabbed the waistband of her jeans in his fists. Jerked at the snap.

“Bobby Tom  .  .  .” She sobbed his name and his hands froze as he realized he'd scared her.

“Hurry,” she pleaded. “Please hurry.”

His passion escalated as he understood she welcomed his aggressiveness. At the same time, some small glimmer of sanity reminded him where they were, and he knew that what had started out as a game had backfired. He couldn't take her like this—not against the side of a building. He must have been crazy to let it get this far. What in the hell was wrong with him?

It took all of his self-discipline to close the front of her vest. Her eyes flew open, their expression revealing a mixture of passion and bewilderment. He settled his hat back into position. She was a rookie in her first big game, and he'd never let her see how close she'd come to unseating a champion.

“I think this is going to work out pretty well, don't you?” His normally agile hands were clumsy as he began fastening her buttons, and he kept talking to camouflage his awkwardness. “We're gonna take this in stages. You seemed to have missed out on all the normal messin' around, so we have to make up for that. I don't think either of us is going to last too long, you understand, but we should at least make the effort.”

“Does this mean we're done for tonight?”

She looked so woeful he wanted to hug her. “Heck, no. We're just takin' a breather. When we get back home, we'll start up all over again. Maybe we'll drive down by the river and see how long it takes us to steam up the windows in my pickup.”

Gracie jumped as the door next to them banged open, and Johnny Pettibone stuck his head out. “Bobby Tom, Suzy just called. She wants you to stop by the house right away. Says she thinks she might have a mouse under the sink.” Johnny disappeared back inside.

Bobby Tom sighed. So much for steaming up windows. Once Suzy got hold of him, she wouldn't let go of him for a while.

Gracie gave him a sympathetic, albeit slightly shaky, smile. “It's all right; your mother needs you. I'll get a ride home with one of the production assistants. Actually, this is probably a good thing. I could use a little time to—to adjust.”

Once again she began worrying her lip. “This body-owning idea of yours  .  .  . I was thinking  .  .  . That is, it occurred to me  .  .  .”

“Spit it out, sweetheart. Neither of us is getting any younger.”

“I want a turn,” she said in a rush.

“A turn at what?”

“At the same thing. Body-owning. Yours.”

He wanted to burst out laughing, but instead he frowned and tried to look sullen. “I never expected an intelligent woman to be so illogical. If both of us are going around owning each other's bodies, we'll never know who's supposed to make the next move.”

She regarded him earnestly. “I'm sure we can work it out.”

“I don't think so.”

She set her jaw. “I'm sorry, Bobby Tom, but I'm going to have to be firm about this.”

He started to give her a hard time, just for the pure pleasure of it, but before he could open his mouth, she'd turned her back on him and marched to the door. Just before she disappeared inside, she tossed him a prim look over her shoulder.

“Thank you for a most pleasurable encounter. It was highly educational.” The door shut behind her.

For a moment he just stood there, and then he grinned. Every time he thought he had Gracie right where he wanted her, she managed to surprise him. But he had a few surprises of his own left, and as he made his way to his truck, he knew that initiating Gracie Snow was definitely going to be one of life's finer pleasures.

S
o much for bargains, Gracie thought as she parked the Thunderbird next to Willow's Trans Am and picked up the Navaho blanket she had been sent to fetch. As she got out of the car, she sighed. Two weeks had passed since Bobby Tom had taken her to the Wagon Wheel, but to her disappointment, the physical side of their relationship hadn't progressed any farther. It was almost as if he'd changed his mind. On the other hand, the circumstances had hardly been conducive to privacy. He'd had long work days and lots of distractions.

On Sunday, after their evening at the honky-tonk, Bobby Tom and Suzy had golfed, while Gracie had spent the day helping Natalie make the small house she had rented comfortable. That evening, one of his former teammates had shown up at the door and stayed several days, demanding every minute of Bobby Tom's free time. The following weekend, Bobby Tom had flown to Houston for a scheduled meeting with the American Express people to discuss making a television commercial for them, and afterward, they had been involved in night shooting, filming a chase sequence involving Bobby Tom and the film's villain. But even though she knew they hadn't had any real opportunity for intimacy, she still found herself dwelling on the worrisome possibility that Bobby Tom's offer had merely been another of his private jokes and he had no intention of going through with it. Since the weekend was fast approaching and he'd made no plans to leave town, she should know soon.

For the past week, they'd been shooting a sequence with Bobby Tom and Natalie in a small box canyon north of town. The equipment trucks and motor homes were parked at the mouth of the canyon, far enough away so the noise from the vehicles wouldn't interfere with the shooting.

“Gracie.”

Gracie looked up to see Connie Cameron calling her from the catering truck. Her lips formed a smug smile as she stepped out from behind the counter.

“Bobby Tom's looking for you. It's hard to tell with him, but I'm pretty sure you've upset him again.”

“Oh, dear.”

Connie regarded her outfit critically, and Gracie reminded herself that she had no reason to feel intimidated. That morning she'd put on a scoop neck buttercup yellow knit top with a short sarong-style skirt in a jungle print. Amber hoops swung from her ears, and slim, leather thong sandals displayed her toenails, which she had painted a dark coral the night before. She wished she could work up the nerve to buy a discreet gold ankle bracelet, but when she'd asked Bobby Tom for his opinion, he'd started laughing so hard she'd discarded the idea. It was probably just as well. She couldn't afford it anyway.

Repaying Bobby Tom, even in installments, for the brutally expensive black cocktail dress he'd purchased without her permission at Millie's Boutique was decimating her meager paycheck, but Gracie had made up her mind to do it anyway. At first, when she'd learned that Millie's wouldn't take the dress back, she decided she'd simply return it to Bobby Tom and tell him to wear it himself. Unfortunately, she'd made the mistake of trying the dress on first, and it had looked so exquisite that she hadn't been able to resist. It was foolish, she knew, to own something so extravagant, but she wanted to see the expression on his face when she finally wore it for him. And the fact that she would have paid him back for every penny by then would make the moment all the sweeter.

Today was payday, and by the time she took out the money she intended to give him for her rent and made an installment on the black dress, there would be almost nothing left for essentials. Still, for someone standing on the precipice of financial disaster, she felt remarkably unburdened. She'd promised herself that her love would be a free offering, and the fact that she was keeping her word filled her with pride and a giddy sense of freedom.

Connie's breasts strained against her tight-fitting top as she leaned forward to wipe one of the tables set up under a navy canopy near the catering truck. “It's funny the two of you don't get along better. I know Bobby Tom never gets mad at me. You're the only female I've ever heard him argue with.”

“We believe in keeping our communication channels open,” Gracie offered with as much sweetness as she could muster.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Mark Wurst, the propmaster, rushed toward her, his graying ponytail flying.

In the past month, everyone on the set had come to regard her as the company's errand girl. Bobby Tom said people were taking advantage of her and he intended to put a stop to it, but she had asked him not to interfere. Despite the elaborate stories he wove about how much he needed a keeper, it hadn't taken her long to discover that he was one of the most competent people she'd ever known, and with each passing day, it had become increasingly apparent to her that he didn't have enough work to keep her busy. Luckily, Windmill did, and since they were officially her employer, she had the satisfaction of knowing she was more than giving them their money's worth. Even though she would never have a career in Hollywood, she was determined to work hard for as long as she had this job.

Gracie handed the blanket over to the propmaster. “You told me there wasn't any hurry, and Willow asked me to run some papers in to the office for her.” Gracie had been somewhat annoyed by how easily Willow had managed to forget the fact that she'd once fired her.

“They changed the shooting schedule,” Mark explained. “They're filming the love scene in the canyon this morning instead of tomorrow, and we need the blanket.”

Gracie's stomach sank. She had known she would have to face this sooner or later, but she'd hoped it would be later. Few movies were shot in sequence, and although this would be the first love scene they filmed, it was actually the final one in the movie and the most romantic. She gave herself a stern lecture about behaving like a professional. Bobby Tom and Natalie had several heated love scenes, and she couldn't let herself get worked into a jealous tizzy with each one of them.

Gracie knew that it was a sad reflection on her character to be taking so much pleasure in Bobby Tom's difficulty relating to Natalie, especially since Natalie had become her friend. But Natalie's chatter about Elvis and breast-feeding had worn on his nerves. Even so, he treated his co-star so courteously that she didn't seem to realize she was driving him crazy.

“I think some things should be private,” Bobby Tom had complained to Gracie during one of his breaks yesterday. “I don't want to know about her—whadyacall—letout reflex.”

“Let-down reflex.”

“Whatever it is, I don't want to know about it.”

“I think it's admirable that Natalie is breast-feeding her baby. It's not an easy thing for a working woman to do.”

“I think it's admirable, too. But I'm not her husband, Elvis isn't my kid, and there's no need for me to get too familiar with the details.”

Gracie yawned as she made her way toward Bobby Tom's motor home. After spending the past week doing night shooting, they were back to days again, and her internal time clock was out of whack. Apparently, so was Bobby Tom's. Last night when she'd gotten up to go to the bathroom, she'd looked down on the back of the house from her rooms above the garage and seen the flicker of the television through his office window.

She passed Roger, one of the makeup artists, carrying Elvis in a backpack. Natalie still hadn't found a nanny to suit her, and the baby was getting passed around whenever she was shooting. Gracie paused for a minute to tweak Elvis's chins. He chortled with delight and began bobbing up and down in the backpack. He really was a darling baby, despite his less than Gerber-perfect looks. She gave him a quick kiss on his forehead and reminded Roger that he chewed his fist when he got sleepy.

She climbed the steps to the motor home, and as she opened the door, Bobby Tom jumped up off the couch. “Just where in the sam hill have you been?”

“I went to get the blanket you'll be using in your scene with Natalie this morning.”

He walked toward her, the script in his hand. She noted with relief that he was fully dressed for once. It struck her as ironic that the love scene was one of the few they'd shot so far where he got to wear all of his clothes. For a change, his jeans were zipped and a denim shirt, rolled at the sleeves, covered his bare chest.

“You're not a production assistant any longer. You're
my
assistant, and picking up a blanket shouldn't have taken three hours.”

When she didn't offer an explanation for why she'd been gone so long, he regarded her suspiciously. “Well?”

“I had to take some papers in to the office for Willow.”

“And  .  .  .”

She surrendered to the inevitable. “I stopped at Arbor Hills.”

“Arbor Hills?”

“It's a local nursing home, Bobby Tom. Surely you've seen it. I happened to notice it one day when I was running an errand for Willow.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember. But what were you doing there? I thought you wanted to get away from nursing homes.”

“Professional curiosity. When I was driving by, I spotted a dangerous crack in the front step. Naturally, I had to go in to bring it to their attention, and while I was there, I discovered that their recreational facilities are appalling. I'm also not too happy with the administrator.” She saw no need to tell she'd recently gotten into the habit of spending time with some of the residents whenever she got the chance, and she was hoping to talk the administrator into making a few changes.

“Well, I'm not all that happy with you. I've got lines to memorize for the next scene, and I'd like a little help here.”

“Don't you just moan and groan?”

“That's not funny.” He began pacing the narrow width of the motor home. “In case nobody's pointed it out to you, Gracie, everything in life isn't a big joke.”

Was Bobby Tom Denton, the man who never took anything seriously, actually giving her a lecture on inappropriate levity? She stifled her amusement as an interesting thought struck her.

“Bobby Tom, are you nervous about doing this love scene?”

He halted in his tracks. “Nervous? Me? You'd better come over here right now and let me smell your breath because I seriously think you've started up on those wine coolers again.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I'll have you know I've already played out more love scenes in my life than most men have in their dreams.”

“Not on camera. And not with a whole bunch of people looking on.” She paused as a worrisome thought struck her. “Or have you?”

“Of course not! Well, not exactly.
Just never you mind!
The point is, as long as I'm making this damn fool movie, I don't have any intention of looking like an idiot.” He tossed the script at her. “Here. Start with, 'Those muscles of yours ought to come with a license.'” He gave her a dark scowl. “And not one wisecrack about the dialogue, do you understand me?”

She firmly repressed a smile. He really was upset about this love scene business. As she leaned back against the small kitchen counter, she felt much better than she had only moments before.

After finding the proper place in the script, she spoke the first line in as sultry a fashion as she could manage. “Those muscles of yours ought to come with a license.”

“What's wrong with your voice?”

“Nothing. I'm acting.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just say the stupid line.”

“It's not necessarily stupid. Some people might find it provocative.”

“It's stupid, and both of us know it. Now, go on.”

She cleared her throat. “Those muscles of yours ought to come with a license.”

“You don't have to read it like you're in a coma.”

“You don't know your next line, do you? That's why you're criticizing me.”

“I'm thinking.”

“Instead of attacking my performance, why couldn't you just say, 'Gracie, sweetheart, I seem to have forgotten my next line. How 'bout you givin' me a little bitty hint'?”

Her imitation of his accent made him laugh. He sprawled down on the couch. It was too short for his long legs, and he propped his feet, clad in a pair of thick white socks, against the wall. “I'm sorry, Gracie. You're right. Just give me a hint.”

“You say, 'You look like—'  ”

“I got it. 'You look like you should be packin' a license yourself, darlin'?” Damn, that line is even stupider than hers. No wonder I can't remember it.”

“It's not as bad as her next one. 'Why don't you search me and find out if I am.'” She looked up from the page with concern. “You're right, Bobby Tom. This really is stupid. I don't think the screenwriter likes love scenes any better than you do. The rest of the script is so much better.”

“I told you so.” He sat up on the couch. “Looks like I'm gonna have to throw one of those movie star tantrums you read about in
People
magazine. We need a rewrite.”

“There's not really time for that.” She looked back down at the script. “You know, this just might work if the two of you don't try to play it too cute. Just sort of toss the lines away with a little smile. Both of you know it's silly. Mild sexual banter, nothing more.”

“Let me see that.” He held his hand out for the script. She passed it over, and he studied it. “You might be right. I'll talk to Natalie about it. When she's not going on about that baby, she occasionally shows a few remnants of good sense.”

They spent the next ten minutes working on the script. Once Bobby Tom had decided he wasn't going to embarrass himself, he proved to be an amazingly quick study, and by the time he was called to the set, he was letter-perfect.

“You're coming with me for this, Gracie.”

“I'm afraid I can't. I have too many things to do.” Even though Bobby Tom had no romantic feelings for Natalie, he was a healthy, virile man, and inevitably, all that physical contact was going to turn him on. She didn't want to be around to see it happen. What sane woman would deliberately watch the man she loved making love with another woman, especially one as beautiful as Natalie Brooks?

“Everything can wait. I want you right there in the canyon with me.” He pulled on a pair of well-worn leather boots.

“I'll be in the way. I'd really rather not.”

“It's an order, Gracie. From your boss.” He snatched up his script, grabbed her arm, and headed for the door. But as he reached out for the handle, he paused in midair. Turning, he began to study her in a way that made little prickles of excitement rise up all over her skin.

“Gracie, honey, if you don't mind, I'd like you to slip off those panties of yours before we go.”

“What!”

“I believe I made myself pretty clear.”

Her pulses raced at the sound of that husky drawl. “I can't go outside without my underpants!”