L.A. Fire (24 page)

 
But we weren’t equals. He had years of experience on me, both in the boardroom
and in the bedroom. And I had a sick feeling that the look of dismissal I’d
gotten from that producer in the restaurant was just a harbinger of things to
come if I stayed with Julian. I’d seen it with my mom and dad. She was
beautiful, vivacious, and an extremely talented artist. But she never had a
chance to grow her talent. My dad was a powerful man, and she’d settled for the
role of trophy wife. And that’s how all of my dad’s colleagues, and his
colleague’s wives, saw her. A stunning-looking socialite who was always
gracious, and completely devoted to her husband. But I’d known that deep down,
she was never happy with that. Not completely. She had always secretly yearned
to express her talent, to be known as someone more than  business mogul
Adam Stevens’s diplomatic, elegant, and supportive wife.

 
When my dad divorced her, she had undergone an identity crisis, because her
self-concept was so linked up with his, she completely lost sight of herself as
a person apart from him. She was now in her mid-fifties, and finally getting
back to doing her art. But she had to work so hard, go through so much pain and
turmoil to figure out who she was, and what about herself and the world she
wanted to express. I didn’t want to end up like that. And I knew I had some of
her tendencies. I’d lost myself with Rob, throwing myself into promoting his
band, and letting my own interests fall to the wayside. And I knew I was
capable of doing it with Julian. I could easily spend my time singing his
praises, supporting him, and not growing my own talent.

 
Yes, I was falling for him. And I was already addicted to his touch. There was
no question about it. But I needed to end it before I got in too deep. Just the
thought of not seeing him anymore made my want to curl up into a ball and cry
my eyes out. But I had to think of my career. I couldn’t sacrifice my career
for love. I was not going to turn out like my mother.

 
When I got back up to the office, Paul was pacing around my cubicle. His eyes
lit up the moment he saw me. “Good,” he said. “You’re back. Two producers and one
director have put in an offer for Jason Burns’s screenplay, and I need you to
set up an appointment for him to come in and discuss this. Preferably for this
afternoon.”

 
I smiled brightly at Paul, suddenly feeling excited that negotiations over the screenplay
I’d discovered were going somewhere. “I’ll call him right away,” I said.

 
Jason Burns was ready and willing to come in later that afternoon. When he
arrived, I ushered him to the boardroom, where Paul was waiting for him.

 
“So, these are the offers,” Paul said after going through all three.

 
Jason ran a hand through his unruly brown curls, then took a sip of the coffee
I’d prepared for him. “Yeah, I don’t know about the producers. Eric Daniels I
don’t anything about, and as far as I know, Peter Sanders is a total douche.”

 
I almost choked on my coffee. I started coughing really hard, and Paul gave me
a strange look. Then he returned his attention back to Jason. “I do have to
note that Peter Sanders is really excited about the project, and he’s put in
the highest bid.”

 
Jason frowned. “Yeah, but the movies he produces suck. I mean, they do well at
the box office, but they’re all super slick and commercial. It’s like even the
projects that have huge potential, he just kills their soul.”

 
I was starting to like Jason more and more. Dressed again in his biker jacket
and motorcycle boots, slouching in his chair, he looked like a total bad boy.
But he was really more of a rebel with deep integrity. He really cared about
his art, and wanted others to care about it too. He looked over at me, his
brown eyes suddenly soft, and raised his eyebrow in a question. “What do you
think, Sarah?” he asked.

 
I cleared my throat, and looked to Paul for permission to speak. He nodded
almost imperceptibly. “I’m new to the business,” I started tentatively, “But
I’d say go with the director. Derek Goldstein is known for both his artistic
integrity, and his commercial success. He’s offering half a million less, but
he’ll have the most say in the final product, and he’s most likely to express
his artistic vision in a manner you’re comfortable with.”

 
Jason shot me a gratefully smile, then nodded decisively. “Yeah, I agree,” he
said. “I think I’d like to go with Goldstein.”

 
Paul nodded, and shuffled his notes together. “Great,” he said. “I’ll give
Derek a call. I’ll draw up the contract, and then you can come in to sign it.”

 
Jason’s face relaxed, and he gave Paul another grateful look. “Thanks a
million,” he said, shaking Paul’s hand. “Thanks to you I can now do this for a
living.”

 
Paul’s eyes twinkled. “The feeling’s mutual,” he said.

 
Jason turned his attention back to me. “Sarah, can you walk me to the
elevator?” I could tell by the steady heat in his eyes that he meant business.
And this time I was less inclined to blow him off. He was earnest, cute, and I
could tell the bad boy look was just that. A look. He’d proven his integrity in
the boardroom, and he respected my judgment. He wanted me to voice my opinion.
He valued it. And, like me, he was just starting out in the business. Julian
was not my equal, but Jason definitely was. He didn’t tie my stomach up in
knots the way Julian did, but he was certainly easy on the eyes. As we made our
way to the elevators, I thought maybe I should give this guy a chance.

 
 As soon as we made it into the corridor, he turned to me, his brown eyes
soft and seductive. “So have you given any more thought to coffee?” he asked, standing
in front of the elevator buttons. I tried to reach around him, but he
immediately shifted so that I couldn’t reach them. He gave me a crooked smile
and said, “I’m not leaving ‘til I get an answer.”

 
I raised an eyebrow at him, and let out a long sigh. “You’re not leaving ‘til
you get an answer, or ‘til you get the answer you want?”

 
His eyes became earnest. “I’m just asking for coffee.”

 
I stood there for a moment debating what to do. I couldn’t deny that he was
cute. And I wasn’t his agent, Paul was, so there really was no conflict. “Do
you have a pen?” I finally asked.

 
His smile widened, and he reached into his file folder, pulling one out. I gave
him my number. Satisfied, he let me call up an elevator. When the doors opened,
he swaggered in, then turned over his shoulder to wink at me. “I’ll call you
soon,” he said, right as the elevator doors were shutting, then smirked at
someone behind me.

 
I spun around, and almost ran smack into Julian. His eyes were fixed on me,
flickering with unease. His whole face was tense, and he looked pained. “I see
you’ve changed your mind about Mr. Burns,” he said. His voice was vibrating
with anger and hurt.

 
My stomach clenched when I heard his tone. It pained me to hurt him. Every
fiber of my being screamed for me to bridge the short distance between us,
fling my arms around him, and kiss him senseless. But then my humiliation this
afternoon at the restaurant flashed through my head, and I froze.

 
“Sarah, can we at least talk about this? In my office?”

 
“I’m at work, Julian. This is not the time to discuss anything.”

 
I saw anger glint in his eyes, and his powerful shoulders tense up. “Damn it,
Sarah. You’re not shutting me out. We need to talk about this. Now. In my
office.”

 
“I’m going back to my cubicle, Julian.”

  He
pinned me with a steady, lethal stare and said, “If you don’t follow me to my
office, I’ll pick you up and carry you there. It’s really your choice.”

 
It only took one look at the expression on his face to see that he was deadly
serious. “You’d humiliate me like that, in front of the entire office?”

 
His expression turned savage. “You’d dismiss me, our budding intimacy, the
trust we’ve built up, simply because of one instance of sexist behavior by a
notorious male chauvinist pig?”

 
I bit my lip, and looked away. He was right. I’d been worried all along about
being able to trust him, and here I’d shown him I was ready to run just because
one industry bigwig looked at me the wrong way.

 
But it wasn’t just the producer. I was sure I’d lost respect with Paul for
dating Julian, and Amanda had clearly spelled out to me how she thought my
relationship with Julian was being interpreted by everyone in the office.

 
“The trust needs to go both ways, Sarah,” he said, his voice hoarse, his
expression still pained.

 
“You’re right,” I finally said, meeting his eyes. “I need some time to think
things over, Julian. I need a little bit of space.”

 
Julian looked at the wall, as though he was thinking of punching it. Then his
eyes swept over my face, full of an intense longing. “Alright, Sarah. I’ll give
you ‘til this weekend. But Saturday you come to my beach house and spend the
night.”

 
I shook my head, and he looked at me in pain and disbelief. “My friend Lisa is
coming to town this weekend,” I said. “I need to spend time with her.”

 
Julian shrugged his shoulders, but the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t
backing down. “Bring her with you,” he said. “I’d really like to get to know your
good friends.”

 
I looked at him in surprise.

 
“Don’t look so shocked, Sarah. I’ve made it very clear I want to be part of
your life. And that includes getting to know the people you love.”

 
I nervously tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and looked at Julian
tentatively. “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll invite her along.”

 
Julian’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction. Then he bridged the distance between
us, took my face between his hands, and gave me a long, lingering kiss. The
feel of his hands on my face, his sensuous mouth on mine, made me moan, and my
knees go weak, reminding me of exactly how addicted I was to his touch. When he
pulled back, his expression was pleased. “We’re not over, Sarah. Not by a long
shot,” he said. Then he turned around, and headed back to the office. I stood
there for a moment breathing unevenly, staring after him. He was right. Despite
everything, I already needed Julian. Craved him. Dreamt about him. If I did
decide to walk away from him, I knew it would tear me to pieces. But if I
wanted to have a successful career, did I really have a choice?

 
“Lisa!” I cried out as my best friend emerged from behind sliding glass doors,
coming down the ramp with her luggage. Her flight had arrived half an hour
earlier, and I’d been waiting for her anxiously ever since. The moment she saw
me, her whole face lit up. She raced toward me, dropped her luggage, and pulled
me into a huge bear hug.

 
“I missed you like crazy, bitch,” she said, pulling back and laughing. She was
wearing a red, flowing Juicy Couture dress with gold ballet flats. Her
trademark glasses framed her hazel eyes, and though she looked lovely, her skin
was a bit pale and she appeared tired and a lot thinner.

 
I examined her with concern. “Hey, have you been eating? You’re looking a
little emaciated.”

 
She smiled sardonically and said, “It’s called New York chic. The look suits
me, no?”

 
My mood turned serious, and she shrugged her shoulders in response. “They’ve
been running me ragged at work. Fourteen hour days, you know?”

 
I nodded, grabbing her luggage. “I hope you didn’t bring any work with you,
‘cause you’re not going to have the chance to touch it. We’re going to hang at
the beach, drink, dance, relax.”

 
Lisa looked grateful. “I’m so glad I’m here. I so need a break. I can’t even go
to sleep without dreaming about the slush pile.”

 
I groaned in sympathy. “Come on,” I said. “Ange wants to see you before she goes
to work, so we’ve got to hurry.”

 
Lisa feigned surprise. “You mean the bitch actually admitted that she missed
me?”