Malibu Betrayals (4 page)

Chapter Four

Gage pulled the lasagna from the oven and set it on the counter, taking a moment to enjoy the savory aroma. Sliding the French bread on to the middle rack, he smiled, then set the timer. Cooking was a recently discovered decompressor, and it turned out he was rather good at it. He only had a few minutes before his sister arrived, but he was just about ready. The distraction would be good. Shit, that was an understatement; the distraction was necessary. Ever since he’d kissed Sam earlier, the need to see her had grown ten-fold. The feel of her lips, her taste, stayed with him even in his goddamn dreams, and it had made for a restless night.

When she kissed him, she wasn’t kissing him for a story she could tell her friends. She kissed him for her, and she’d lost herself in him just as he had in her. Leaving his trailer had been fucking torture, but the look of shock and loss on her face when he went acted as a salve.

Now he needed to figure out when he could kiss her again.

The doorbell rang, and seconds later Belina walked into the kitchen with a grin.

She stretched out her arms and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “Hey, big brother.”

He had friends and his dad, but no one got him like his sister did.

Anita, his housekeeper, leaned her head in. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Mr. Cutler?” His housekeeper had been with him a half dozen years now. Hired from a controlled reference firm, she’d seen him in worse condition than anyone, but never once had a telltale sign of it shown up in the press. One of the few people he could trust. He’d keep her forever if she let him.

He looked from Bel back to Anita. “Thanks, Anita, but I think we’ve got it covered. Have a nice evening.”

She dipped her head. “Yes, sir.”

Bel poked him in the arm. “You lucked out with Anita.”

He grinned with a nod. “She’s awesome. You hungry?”

“You know me. Always.”

Gage shook his head. Belina was tall, like Sam, but had the metabolism of an Olympic swimmer. He’d never seen anyone eat so much without putting on a pound. Women hated her for it, and most everyone else just tried to feed her. Him included.

Loading their plates with lasagna and French bread, he spoke over his shoulder. “Hey, make yourself useful. Pour some wine.”

Bel stuck her tongue out at him.

He placed the food on the table and walked over to look out over the water lapping at the shore, and pulled the fresh ocean air into his lungs.

She joined him at the glass wall. “It’s so calm.”

Gage looked at her with a grin, then back to the ocean.

She turned and leaned against the side, facing his profile. “So, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

She grinned, a dimple deep in her left cheek. “Why do people always act like there isn’t anything going on when, clearly, there is?” She raised her brows.

“Shit.” Pushing away from the railing, he walked to the table and lowered into a chair. He gestured for her to join him.

That was the problem with people who “got” you. They saw too much, knew too much, and when that someone was a nosey, pesky little sister—shit. He sipped his wine, putting off her question.

Belina took her seat and picked up her fork. “You’re always full of energy and excitement during the beginning of a new film.” She flicked her hand at him. “This is not like you.”

“What?” He shoveled a load of pasta into his mouth and spoke while he chewed. “You just got here.”

“Yeah, and you aren’t going on and on, telling me the direction your movie is taking, or which producers you’re talking to about your next project.”

He picked up his wine glass and took a long swallow, then set it back above his plate. With a grunt, he grabbed his napkin and wiped his mouth, then tossed it to his lap.

She threw her hands up. “So, who’s the newest Cutler Queen?”

He winced at the horrible nickname given by the press to the ladies he’d dated. Not one of them had their own identity, unless they were already considered “someone.” “Not seeing anyone.”

“That’s not like you, though I think it’s good.” His sister ducked her head as if dodging something.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She waved away his words. “Come on. Don’t act all hurt and sensitive. You date the worst options out there, women who would never commit in the first place or the kind you’d never want to commit to. So I just kind of wonder, what’s the point?”

He waited.

Bel wrinkled her nose. “Besides that. Gaawd. The world knows your prowess, thanks to the tabloids.”

It was true he hadn’t been able to carry off any resemblance of a long-term relationship, but he couldn’t help it if the women weren’t interested in the long haul.

“And did you really get into a bar fight?”

“Tabloids exaggerate.” He tossed back the rest of his wine and poured another glass.

Bel studied him and then leaned in. “They aren’t all Mom, you know.”

Gage needed the subject to change, yesterday. “Sam Dekker is working re-writes for the film.”

“So, what’s the problem? She any good?”

“We’d met before, both on business. All we did was talk, but there was something there, Bel, something I hadn’t found before or since.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Turned out she was married. I knew the guy, a complete tool. We went our separate ways, with her making it very clear I wasn’t to contact her. She took her marriage vows seriously, and I can respect that, but it felt like I’d lost something significant.” He grunted. “I can’t explain it.”

“Is she still married?”

Eyeing his sister, he said, “Samantha Dekker? Doesn’t ring a bell?” The story had been all over the tabloids for months. The fact she didn’t recognize Sam’s name gave him hope for all mankind. Most people ate that shit up.

The tabloids were genius at sensationalizing the mundane. Every new magazine he saw his face splashed across made him more tired than the last. Tired of never being able to let go of past mistakes, tired of being disposable, tired of having his personal life be someone else’s entertainment.

She blinked.

“Ethan Evans.”

Belina lowered her hand, her movements cautious, as if not to spook a frightened child. “Ohhhhh.” She studied him a moment, then took a small bite of her bread. “No problem, screenwriters usually do their job and then are off the set, right? It’s not like she’s there every day.”

“I demanded that she be on set every day.”

His sister’s eyes widened, and she slapped her hand to her chest, leaning toward him. “Why? Why would you do that?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her look of shock and the high-pitched tone of her voice. “Bel.”

She shook her head. “No, seriously. Why would you?”

He drained his glass and reached out for the bottle.

Bel placed her hand over his, and he stilled, raising his brow at her.

“Slow down. I just got here.”

After pulling the bottle out from under his sister’s hand, he filled his glass and set it back onto the table by his plate. Tightness pulled in his chest, and he wanted to down the whole goddamn bottle just because he could.

She shifted in her seat and wiped her mouth with her napkin, watching him with worried blue eyes. “It broke my heart to see you so hurt after that accident, and the tabloids were so vicious.”

“To her, too. I tried to reach out to her after the accident, and again after his suicide, but she refused. The first time with angry accusations and the second with silence.”

“I can only imagine the pain she was going through. People handle grief in so many different ways.” She shifted in her chair. “I admire the fact that she didn’t let anything happen the first time you met. You weren’t in any shape to understand it back then, but Gage, she wouldn’t have been a woman worth pursuing if she hadn’t. She did the right thing. I just—I’m worried after what happened with her husband, your involvement—”

He shoved back from the table.

She threw up her hands to stop his offended interruption. “Wait. I’m not saying you were responsible. God, no. I’m just saying it’s complicated and messy.”

Gage blew out a breath with a nod. Damn little sisters.

“But—”

“But what?” He scowled.

Her eyes softened. “But though I’m afraid you two have to overcome a lot—which really I’m not surprised, you tend to do that to yourself, kind of like a punishment—I say go for it.”

He waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not interested in anything serious.”

Bel shrugged her shoulders. “Soooo…”

He shook his head. “Soooo…?”

Taking another bite of her lasagna, Bel chewed. Gage waited for her to answer and tapped his fingers on the table.

Finally, she swallowed. “Sounds perfect to me. I’d be more worried if she was willing to jump right in headfirst. Taking it slow and casual will give the two of you a chance to
really
get to know one another. People change, and are always changing, the healthy ones anyway. Don’t rush it. In time, after seeing the real Gage Cutler, the one I know, Sam won’t be able to walk away.” Bel slapped the table. “Mark my words.”

Gage stared at her. “Did you just Pepperdine me?” His reference to her professorship at the School of Psychology and Education at the University put a smile on her face.

“No, you aren’t one of my students. I
sistered
you.”

He settled back in his seat, his gut full. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Leading her down the steps to the beach, he spoke over his shoulder. “How’s Dad?”

They walked along the sandy beach, skirting rocks the size of mounted movie cameras, with light conversation Gage only half listened to. Bel had given him a lot to think about. Maybe she was right. Time would be on his side. He and Sam had both been through a lot the past couple years. He knew he wanted to see her again, he wanted to explore the connection they’d had from the first night, and after that kiss, he actually believed he just might be able to.

A light sensation washed over his shoulders, one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

…

The following day, Sam made her way through the film set in a dreamy haze of a post-kiss hang over. Every time she spotted Gage from across the room, her heartbeat spiked, and the little hairs on her body stood on end. She floated through the endless odds and ends of equipment and found a corner to work. Sitting down at a small table, she opened the manuscript to her marked page. She wasn’t hiding so much as ensuring a quiet place to work while re-living Gage’s kiss one more time without anyone noticing her ridiculous high. She closed her eyes with a smile.

“Sam.”

With a shriek, Sam spun around and slapped her hand to her chest. “Shit! You scared me.”

Gage threw his hands up as if to ward off an attack. “Whoa. You’re way too tense.” He reached for her shoulders. “I’d say a massage is in order.”

Sam skirted away from him. His hands on her would be the opposite of relaxing.

Gage dropped his hands to his side with a lop-sided grin and then tucked them in his front pockets. “Chicken.”

She ignored him and picked up her coffee to hold between them as a shield. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her heart pounding in her chest.

Gage glanced at the cup in her hand, then back to her face. “Really?”

Those eyes of his always unsettled her, pulled her in—saw too much. Were they blue or green, damn it? “What? You have work to do, and I’m helping you stay on task.” She threw him her cheekiest grin.

Gage closed the distance between them and then slowly slipped the cup from her fingers, which seemed to hold on to the damn thing like a lifeline. Leaning past her, he set it on the table, his cologne and his own personal heat filling her senses. She closed her eyes against the sensations blooming low in her stomach. Why did she always feel him? It wasn’t fair, and possibly made her feel a little drunk.

He straightened in front of her and ran the pad of his thumb over her collarbone.

She snapped her eyes open.

Gage tilted his head to the side and raised a brow.

It was a good look, damn it. Sam shifted from one foot to the other, the light touch of his roaming fingers raising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

He spoke, his voice low, for her ears only, and she had to lean forward in order to hear him. “I want to kiss you again, Sam.”

Only a hand’s width separated her chest from his, and she wanted to close the distance and let the pressure of his body ease the need building inside. She could barely breathe.

Gage looked into her eyes and then trailed his fingers up the side of her neck, along her jaw to her lower lip.

He leaned forward, and she put her hand against his chest. His heat radiated through her palm.

“I think you were waiting for me. You found the most secluded corner in the house.”

She took a quick look and couldn’t argue. The area she’d chosen to work existed behind boxes and shelves of equipment.

“I—”

The feel of his lips broke any logic or reason, and she sighed into the kiss. Sliding her palms against his skin to the back of his neck, her fingers delved deep into his thick dark hair and yanked him down until she could press against him. This was what it was to be kissed by a man who wanted her, instead of simply a sensation for her lips; she felt it through her whole body.

She lost herself in the increased tempo of her heart, warmth spread low between her legs, and she tried to get closer. It’d been so long, too long. His heat, his skin—his ability to see her like no one else. “I want you,” she whispered.

She jerked back.

Gage sucked in a breath and pulled her back in, pressing a hard kiss to her mouth. “I’m not letting you take that back.”

Her body flushed at the contact. She needed to do something about the fantasy she’d built up in her head about being with him, and get him out of her system. Reality would surely do the trick because dreams were always over-inflated expectations. Yes, that would work, and then she could get back to focusing one hundred percent on her writing. He was a distraction.

“Come to my place tonight.”