Malibu Betrayals (3 page)

She stared. She’d been through so much, and it had been unbearable to have the man who’d brought her to her senses about her relationship be involved with the accident that kept her tied to it. She’d reacted so badly. “I’m so sorry for everything I’d said.”

He held her gaze.

Shame urged her to look away, but she pulled in a breath and reached out her hand. “I am so sorry. The things I’d said are unforgivable, but—”

“I forgave you the moment you said them.” He slid his large fingers up the length of hers and gently gripped her palm.

She dropped her eyes to the ground.

He released her hand and then slid his warm fingers under her chin with gentle pressure, lifting her gaze.

Swallowing hard, she studied him.

The years had been good to him in many ways. He’d filled out, thicker, broader, his face more chiseled, his eyes more piercing. Age agreed with him, but also made his emotions that much more visible. His mouth, pressed into a thin line, only softened into a frown, the lines next to his eyes deepened as he narrowed his gaze. There was a reason Hollywood had kept him at the top, waiting for him to find his way back. He had an undeniable presence. One of the very reasons she’d made the decision she had back then.

He was probably the same bad boy Hollywood had always known, but she could admit when she’d been wrong. She’d hurt him the night they’d met by walking away. She’d hurt him after Ethan’s accident by blaming him, and once again by avoiding him and his attempts to help her after Ethan committed suicide. Wow. She was on a roll.

“I’m sorry.”

He stared at her, and his shoulders slowly lowered. He pulled in a breath with a brief nod. “You already apologized.”

Relief that he really was accepting her apology was swift.

With a jerk of his chin, he asked, “What do you remember most about the night we met?”

“What do you mean?”

Cracking his neck, he pinned her with a direct look. “I’ve never forgotten you, forgotten that night. I shared things with you I’ve never told anyone else.”

He couldn’t be serious. The idea he’d ever pined for her was ridiculous.

Sam closed her eyes.

He’d thought of her, beyond the accident, even after she blamed him. She shouldn’t feel a rush of warmth spread through her, but there it was. Was he serious, or was this simply Gage Cutler, an actor with an agenda? Though, she couldn’t for the life of her imagine what that could be. She didn’t have anything he’d want.

She opened her eyes to find Gage studying her. “I remember, too.” She remembered for the first time in a very long time feeling relevant, listened to, noticed. She remembered realizing her marriage was over, that if anyone should be looking at her in such a way it should be her husband, not a stranger she’d just met.

She remembered deciding it was time to face the reality and move ahead, but it was shortly after meeting Gage that the accident had happened, and then she couldn’t move at all.

And she’d been angry. At him, at Ethan, at herself. She’d imagined a life with a man who truly saw her, daydreams of being heard, but she couldn’t do anything about it. Not then, and not now. “I don’t know what you want from me here.”

He shook his head. “I want you to admit we’d had something that night.”

She put her hands out. “But why? What will that change? Do you want us to start where we left off? As far as Hollywood is concerned, you
were
the cause. How would that look?”

“Who gives a shit what they think?”

“I do. They were relentless after the accident and even more so after his suicide.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “I can’t go through that again. Whether I’ve thought of you or not. Whether we had a connection or not.”

“But you admit we had a connection.”

Her shoulders dropped. Why did he need to hear this so badly? “Yes.”

“We could still have something.” His jaw ticked as he watched her.

Seconds felt like minutes, and she couldn’t help but fidget under his stare as her mind reeled to make sense of his words. Finally, he gave a nod, focusing on her with a smile, and then he stepped around her and went inside.

She was dumbfounded. How in the world was this sexy, powerful, A-list actor attracted to her? Her stomach tightened.

Well, they had something in common, because she’d never quit thinking of him, either.

Maybe it was simply a matter of getting him out of her system. A little fling, casual sex, the no strings attached kind of thing. All this time and emotion, worrying and wondering, made him so much bigger than he really was; she was sure of it. Wasn’t she all about moving forward? Nothing serious, just enough to appease her long-brewing curiosity.

Short, sweet, and most of all, secret.

She just needed to figure out how to keep a secret like that in Malibu.

Maybe then she could get over her nerves and jumpiness around him once and for all. Nothing serious, because they had a movie to make, and the last thing she wanted were pseudo-reporters camping out at her doorstep again. In the end, nothing had really changed, since he was still in the spotlight of Hollywood.

It might not be fair to hold it against him, but that kind of attention disfigured everyone.

Chapter Three

Gage walked back to the house from his trailer the following afternoon, grumbling. If he had his choice, he’d kick back with a cold beer, but the cast and crew were having a lunch. One of those opportunities to get to know one another better. Which was something better accomplished during filming than any forced social hour, but the powers that be summoned him, and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be difficult.

Stepping though the door, he scanned the room and then slowed. Sam sat next to Martin in deep conversation, her hands gripped together in her lap.

Gage shoved his hands in his pockets.

Annoying as hell. Her silence when he’d mentioned they could still have something made sure he understood nothing could happen. Every fiber in his body tensed with the need to prove her wrong. They’d had something. Something he hadn’t been able to forget. Fuck.

Making his way to the other side of the room, he looked for the seat farthest from where she sat with Martin. The last thing he needed was a long afternoon of awkward niceties, which would be worse than her silence. He busied himself chatting with a few of the crew and then looking through an old album collection used in the film. Some of Martin’s inspiration was evident in the collection.

“She doesn’t bite, you know.”

Gage swung around to find Martin walking up behind him. A quick glance back across the table showed Sam busy, scrolling through her phone. “Yeah, well, she hasn’t been mad at you for the last two years.”

“There’s no time like the present to start.”

Gage dipped his chin in a nod. “Sure. The start of what exactly?”

“Hell if I know, boy, but you’ll figure it out.”

Martin had a look in his eye Gage couldn’t place, but he let it go. His stomach rumbled, and the lunch couldn’t be over soon enough—his beer was calling him.

Martin left him to go chat up the rest of the crew, and Gage continued to watch Sam. It was something, anyway, her admitting to a connection. She could have denied it. Doing so would have shut him down completely. He narrowed his eyes. There might be something more still between them, something she didn’t want to or couldn’t completely let go of.

He made his way around the table.

Sliding into the chair at her left, he took a casual sip from the water glass, using all his control not to laugh as she snapped her head around, eyes wide at the sight of him.

“Good evening, Sam.”

“Hey.” Her voice was a bit breathless, and her eyes darted everywhere around the room but his face.

He leaned back in the chair and settled his hands in his lap, calm and relaxed. At least that’s what she’d see. She had no reason to know his heart pounded in his chest, or controlling his breathing took a lot of effort.

One of the biggest things he’d been learning was to quit looking back, and to move forward. There was no changing what had happened or hadn’t happened between them, but he was very interested in seeing what could happen.

The crew filled in the rest of the seats and lunch turned into a low hum of conversation and clanking silverware. The crew got to know one another, the individual teams bolder with each other than they were with him or the leading lady. As a matter of fact, Gage’s eyes settled a time or two on Martin’s new assistant, Dani, finding her studying him so thoroughly she didn’t seem to notice that he’d noticed until he’d wave. She’d tense in her seat and then returned the wave with a grimace, turning her attention back to her dinner. He understood how it was, because he felt the same way when he’d first started out, finding himself star-struck more than once.

Settling in to having Sam next to him, he devoured the food on his plate, very aware that she merely moved the food around hers. Why’d he find that so interesting?

“You’ve been keeping busy.” Her soft voice raced shivers down his spine, and he gripped his napkin in his fist.

“How do you mean?”

“Your movies, what’s it been? Two a year?”

He eyed her, not answering right away. So, she’d been paying attention. He swallowed his smug smile with another bite of food and then washed it down with water. “Give or take.” Though, not every film was truly blockbuster status, they’d still made the list simply because he was in them. A few disappointments for him, but the best way to succeed was to fail, so he’d take the good with the bad and consider it all success. In this industry, his sordid past put butts in the seats, and that was all the studios cared about.

With a jerk of his chin, he nudged her. “So which ones have you seen?”

She grabbed her water glass and gulped back half of it. “All of them.”

Barely able to hear her mumble over the din of the crowd, he leaned forward. He’d heard her, but not only did he want to make sure, he wanted to hear it again. “What was that?”

Her face flushed red to her hairline, and his gut tightened in response. She was embarrassed. He chuckled, a self-satisfied sound that would annoy her for sure. “All of them?”

“I work in the industry. Of course I watched all of them,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Of course. The industry.”

She stared at him. He’d give a year’s salary to know what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. She had the darkest eyes. They unsettled him and made him want to trust her all at the same time. And that was nuts; he didn’t trust anyone, especially women.

He’d made that mistake too many times already.

She tilted her head to the side and bit her lip, the flush in her face deepening. “I especially enjoyed
Dark Secrets.”

Now that movie
had
been a blockbuster, many would say due to the writing, and others would argue it was the gratuitous nudity. He certainly wasn’t shy, and he’d worked his ass off to be in the right kind of shape for that movie, but knowing Sam not only watched it, but enjoyed it, made him suddenly understand exhibitionism. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Is that right?”

She narrowed her eyes at him in challenge. “I’m a healthy adult female; I’m not the only one who’s watched it more than once.”

His voice lowered and took on a gravelly tone. “You watched it more than once?”

She straightened in her seat and finished off her water with a grin. “More than twice.”

His body tightened everywhere. Was she flirting with him? “Well, then it seems you have me at a disadvantage.” He leaned closer, holding her gaze. “And that doesn’t seem quite fair.” Images of her naked flashed in his mind, sending his tension from uncomfortable to torturous. Damn woman.

Tapping her finger against her lip, she bit the tip of it, giving him a thoughtful stare. “I’m okay with that.”

He froze for a split second and then leaned back with a laugh. Well then, if she wasn’t worried about playing fair, he wouldn’t, either.

And he was right. Maybe they did still have something.

…

Sam braved the downpour that night and ran past the set trailers with her bag over her head, a not-so-great shield from the rain. They’d finished lunch and then filmed another sequence, working well into the evening.

What the hell had she been thinking, flirting with Gage? She grinned, feeling alive for the first time in a long time. Playing with him and knowing she of all people affected him, sent a shot of adrenaline straight to her ego. She’d wanted to pretend they hadn’t had a connection the first night they’d met, but they had, and it was still there. One she didn’t quite know what to do with, but she couldn’t deny the fact she wanted to find out. She held back a small squeal of nerves by biting her lip.

Rounding the last small building, her car in sight, she lowered her bag. Gage stepped away from the side, his wet hair slicked back, water dripping from his nose and chin. A black T-shirt was stretched across his wide chest and over his broad shoulders.

Her heart stopped.

“What’s your game, Sam?”

Sam stammered. “It’s raining.”

He dipped his chin once. Wrapping his thick fingers around her upper arm, he steered her in a U-turn and up the steps of his trailer.

Sam threw her hands out at the door, like a damn cat avoiding a bath. “Wait a minute, what are you doing?”

“We need to talk.” Without pause, he crowded her through the door and closed it.

Turning around, he leaned back against the door—her only escape. He ran his fingers through his sopping hair and then down his face, clearing his throat.

She jumped at the sound. Hadn’t she just been flirting with him? Now she twittered about like some damn virginal sacrifice in a war lord’s harem. And there was nothing sacrificial about being alone with Gage.

He laughed, and when his humor faded, he still held her gaze.

The sound of his low, rumbling chuckle did weird things to her insides, topsy-turvy, inside-out kinds of things. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Sweet baby Jesus
. She looked everywhere but at him, but gave up and took in every inch of his taut, tanned skin. She never knew her peripheral vision was so keen. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want you to get wet.” He stepped toward her, hesitated, and then closed the distance between them. “I’m going to kiss you.”

The husky promise pulled a squeak from her throat, and she slapped a hand over her mouth, heat rushing to her face.

Panic and something quite wonderful stole her breath. He stepped into her, hot unyielding skin pressed against her palms, and the smallest scattering of hair tickled the sensitive pads of her fingers. She swallowed against the lump in her throat.

The light in his eyes held hers and she froze, unable to move.

“There’s something between us. Has been since the night we met.”

Sam closed her eyes, but when he slid her hands around his neck, she snapped them open.

He stepped in, crowding her, gathering her body into his arms and up against his length. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession—in time with hers. Lips, full and wide, hovered over hers for a beat, and he whispered. “Admit it.”

His warm breath wafted over her skin and goose bumps bloomed down her neck and chest.
God yes
. She was ready for a fling, for some fun with a gorgeous man who’d taken up way too much of her brain space. She didn’t want to wait any longer, so she leaned in, stopping a hair’s breadth from his lips and whispered, “Kiss me.”

His quick grin and squeeze of her hips with his hands teased. He barely brushed his mouth over hers, leaving a tingle behind.

His heart thundered against her breasts, and the most delicious sensation rolled low in her belly. Finally.

Closing her eyes, she closed the distance between the heat of their wanting lips.

Gage brushed his lips against hers, absorbing her, pulling her tighter against him, releasing a rush of heat from her center through her limbs.

Something akin to breathing again washed over her.

She coiled her arms about his head and shifted higher in his embrace, kissing him back with all the pent-up
woman
she’d shoved down for so long. He moaned low in his throat, and a surge of power tightened her grip around his neck. Yes. This is what she wanted, what she needed.

Gage lifted her to the counter, and with a wide sweep of his hand, odds and ends crashed to the floor. The action, raw and hurried, called to a part of her she just realized existed. He wedged his hips between her knees, and she wrapped her legs about his waist, celebrating his lack of restraint.

“God, Sam, I’ve wanted to taste you forever,” he whispered against her skin as he brushed his lips along her jaw and down her neck.

Her head fell back, and she kneaded his shoulders, lost as fingers of the most delicious fire licked up her spine and spread along her skull. She couldn’t breathe, yet he was all the air she needed. She couldn’t think, yet he filled her mind.

He found his way back to her mouth, his lips gliding in a whispered caress as his tongue slid against her own. She pressed into him, desperate to get closer, losing herself in the feeling of being desired.

Someone pounded on the door and they froze. “The rain’s stopped. Five minutes until shooting, Mr. Cutler.”

“Fuck.”

Sam swallowed, wanting to giggle, but the effort would cost too much. “You aren’t finished?”

He pulled back just enough for her to see his eyes narrow with an intensity she felt to her toes. “I’m not nearly finished.”

She pulled in a shaky breath.

Stepping to the door, he leaned over and grabbed a dry shirt from the couch and then pulled it over his head. She stared at the striations of his muscles until he cleared his throat. She snapped her eyes back to his.

“We’re not done yet, Sam.” He opened the door and stepped out into the rain.

She stood where he’d left her, her heart pounding in her ears. She pressed her lips together and then opened her mouth, trying to form with her lips what her brain couldn’t quite wrap itself around.
I want to do that again.

She slid from the counter top, taken by surprise. She wanted the rush, the heat, the power. A smile stretched her mouth, and she dragged her lower lip through her teeth.

This connection to Gage might be just what she needed to move ahead after all.