Nacho Figueras Presents (15 page)

S
ebastian wasn't sure he liked this bed. He rolled over and tried to pinpoint just what, exactly, was wrong.

It wasn't the mattress or the pillows. Surely the Hills Hotel had the finest bedding available. Plus he was staying in the private Royal Bungalow. So basically he was in the most luxurious part of the most luxurious hotel in L.A. The bedding was much more than adequate.

It wasn't his surroundings. The Pink Château, as loyal clients affectionately called the hotel, was five-star Hollywood glamour at its best. The bungalow was charming, sumptuously furnished, and completely private. He had his own pool, patio, and outdoor shower. Not to mention a fleet of people looking after his every need. He felt like he was wrapped up in an opulent gift box, and he had to admit, being the pleasure hound that he was, he rather enjoyed the sensation.

It wasn't the temperature. Unlike humid Florida, L.A weather was pretty much perfect lately. A long string of bright, sunny days, not a whit over seventy-five degrees, and lush, balmy nights, just breezy and cool enough to sleep with the windows open.

It might simply be the fact that he wasn't sharing it with anyone, he mused. A bed this comfortable in a place this beautiful really cried out to be used for more than just sleeping.

He rolled over again, doing his best to push away certain images—a pair of gray eyes, sparked with desire, gazing into his own; a long, golden leg bent and beckoning; a tan and elegant hand trailing over his skin…

He got up and pulled on his jeans and T-shirt.

And not a moment too soon, for suddenly his patio door crashed open and Liberty Smith, the most beautiful movie star in the world, flounced into the room wearing nothing but the barest hint of a purple bikini.

“I'm bored,” she said. “How about a swim?”

He looked at her, taking in the long, silky hair dancing down her shoulders, her sleepy violet eyes, her soft, peachy skin that seemed to glow from within…

“Something wrong with your pool?” he asked.

She collapsed onto his bed. “I don't like its shape,” she pouted.

He laughed.

Then she laughed. “I know,” she said. “I sound exactly like a prima donna movie star, rejecting her private pool. But it reminds me of this old swimming hole in Sioux Falls that I practically drowned in once. I prefer your pool.”

She grinned at him and rolled over on his bed, exposing her round, perfect bottom, which was pretty much bare except for the thin purple string that framed the top of each plump, faultless cheek.

Liberty, thought Sebastian, looked like she was created to exist exactly in these old-school Hollywood surroundings. Here she was, in the same bed that Elizabeth Taylor and Marilyn Monroe had frequented, and it was easy to imagine her fitting right in to their legendary pantheon.

“I have to leave for the set,” he said to her.

Liberty groaned. “No, it's not time yet. We don't have call for another three hours at least. They're filming the stuff with Charlie at the polo field in Santa Barbara this morning.”

Sebastian thought of Kat—undoubtedly already at work—and flinched. “That just means you don't need to be there, Libby, but I'm definitely going in.”

Liberty sighed. “Fine. Just abandon me here, then. I don't care.” She rolled over and pulled his sheets up over her head. “I think I like your bed better, too,” she said from under the covers.

He shook his head. “I'm more than happy to trade bungalows.”

“No, mine was Cary Grant's favorite. I like to imagine his ghost watching me take a shower.” She laughed at her own joke. “Ugh, if you're going in now, I'll have to listen to Earl the driver the whole way there.”

“We really shouldn't take the same car anyway. You know what the paparazzi would do with pictures like that.”

“I don't care,” she said. “Let them think whatever they want. It would serve David right. He's off in Belize with some stripper right now anyway.” Her voice was muffled by the sheets.

He sighed. “You can use my pool while I'm gone.”

“I don't want to swim anymore,” she said, still hidden under the covers.

“Have you had breakfast? I'll call room service.”

She popped her face back out. “Black coffee. One of those gluten-free croissants—how do you think they do that, by the way?—and the fresh fruit plate. But tell them I don't want it for another hour. I'm going to sleep in your bed. And if they knock and I don't answer, just to come back later. I don't want to be woken up.”

Sebastian snorted. “Why don't you just call when you're up, then?”

“No, no.” She smiled at him. “I like it when you call it in. It shows me you care.”

Sebastian shook his head and smiled back at her, but inwardly, he groaned. There was no amount of room service that would ever convince Liberty Smith that anyone really cared about her. He'd learned that by now. She was beautiful, and she was sexy, and she was smart, but she was also the most insecure person he had ever met. She was basically a bottomless pit of need.

“Oh, and a green juice, as well, babe, okay?”

He nodded and hit zero on the phone.

No matter how many times Kat ran the scene, it didn't look right to her. In her mind's eye, she imagined that first time she had seen a polo match, with Sebastian and his family by her side, on that private field in Wellington. She remembered the fire and the passion in the game, and the way it had made her feel at once stricken and thrilled, barely able to breathe, as the ponies had thundered toward the goal.

She had all the right tools. She had the finest ponies—Sebastian had seen to that. And though her leading man, Charlie Ruiz, wasn't a professional equestrian by any means, he could certainly ride decently enough, and there was a stuntman for those times that she needed anything more. All her extras were pro polo players. Sebastian had hired a whole pack of his Argentine friends, and they played beautifully. But still, it didn't match what she remembered real polo to look like.

“Cut,” she called. “Take thirty minutes.” She walked over to the playback monitor in video village so she could pinpoint what was going wrong. Sebastian was already there, squinting at the screen.

As always, Kat's heart basically stopped when she saw him, and it took her a few deep, shaky breaths to regain her cool.

It had been nearly three months since she had sat Sebastian down and told him that, though she was grateful for all he had done to get Liberty on board, she was only bringing Sebastian on as her producer because Liberty had insisted, and she really didn't appreciate the way he had forced himself into the job.

His only role was to keep Liberty happy, she told him, to do whatever it took to keep her on board the film. If he could do that, he'd be useful to Kat. Otherwise, he just needed to stay out of her way.

She didn't tell him about the way Liberty had asked whether they were a couple and how she had pretty much lied in reply. She certainly didn't tell him about the way that every part of her absolutely seethed and writhed in agony when she thought of him anywhere near the star.

She couldn't bring herself to tell him any of that. Instead, she had been ungrateful and condescending, and basically opened up the door to him sleeping with Liberty, even though that was absolutely the last thing in the world Kat really wanted.

And Sebastian had just sat there and watched her as she made her ugly little speech and then nodded calmly. Then he took out his wallet and counted out fifteen dollars and handed them to her.

Her tip money back, he said.

It was like a punch to her gut.

And since then, he had been the best producer she'd ever had.

“What do you see?” she asked as she walked toward the monitor.

He leaned in closer, his brow wrinkled in concentration. “It's not there yet,” he said.

She sighed. “I know. It just doesn't feel like there's enough—”

“Heart,” he supplied. “They don't look like they really care if they win or not.”

She blinked. “God, that's exactly right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but you totally hit the bull's-eye.”

He smiled ruefully. “I am intimately familiar with the problem.”

“What can we do to change it up?”

“Offer them some incentive.” He grinned at her. “Tell them that the first one to make a goal gets to take you out to dinner.”

She tugged at her hair, self-conscious. “I hardly think that's going to do much to get them going.”

He shook his head. “You sell yourself short,
linda
,” he said softly.

She tried to pretend that he hadn't just used his old pet name for her. And that hearing it hadn't immediately set off a thousand roaring, painful Triple-X memories in her head.

“Maybe I should offer cash instead,” she said.

He laughed.

“Or…” She hesitated.

He looked at her.

“I've been thinking. All this work with horses and I still haven't ever even ridden, you know? Maybe it would help if I had some idea how it felt?”

S
ebastian turned away from the spotted horse he'd been grooming to watch Kat walk into the ring. She was wearing skin-tight gray riding breeches, over-the-knee black patent leather boots, and a snug white button-down shirt opened just wide enough to show off her long, graceful neck and elegant collarbones. She smoothed the pants self-consciously. “Are they supposed to fit so tight?” she said.

Sebastian looked at the way the pants hugged her every curve and did his best to tamp down the visceral thrill of excitement he felt uncurl inside his belly. “Those are exactly as they should be,” he said. He watched appreciatively as she bent to adjust her boot. “I should have taken you riding a long time ago,” he said huskily. “The gear suits you.”

Kat blushed and hastily stood up.

Sebastian tore his eyes away and cleared his throat. “This is Patches,” he said, indicating the brown and white mare. “You'll have to help me tack her up. That's part of riding.”

Kat smiled nervously and reached out to pet the horse with a tentative hand. The pony, sensing Kat's fear, shied away and whinnied.

“Oops!” said Kat, taking a step back.

Sebastian smiled. “You'll have to do better than that. Come here.” He looked through the tack box, pulling out a currycomb and handing it to Kat. “Start with this.”

Kat approached the pony again and lifted her hand. Patches rolled her big brown eyes and showed the whites.

“Hey now,
bebé
,” said Sebastian to the horse. “Relax.” He looked at Kat. “Scratch her right where her head meets her neck,” he said. “That's what she likes best.”

Kat slowly reached out and scratched. “Oh!” she said. “She's so much softer than I expected. I thought pony hair would be bristly and hard. But this is like velvet.”

Sebastian was startled. “You've never even touched a horse before?” he asked.

“Lots of people have never touched a horse, Sebastian.”

“Yes, but you've been actually directing this movie. All these ponies—”

“Well, it's not like I had to groom them all myself. I've just been filming them.”

He shook his head. “Okay, yeah. This is important for you to do.” He stepped behind and guided her hand with the currycomb, making her sweep over the pony's coat. “Like this.”

Standing this close to her, he couldn't help taking in her dark, sugary scent. It made him want to close his eyes and just breathe. Instead, he took a step back and watched the way her body arched as she reached to brush down the pony.

He saw women in riding gear every day, but he had never before realized just how sexy those breeches and boots could really be.

“Poor bald pony,” said Kat, combing where the pony's mane had been shaved off to a nub. “I still don't see why you have to take off the mane.”

“Because it could get caught in the mallet. Very dangerous. Okay”—he handed her the hard brush—“now this. Short, brisk strokes, and put a little more muscle into it this time.”

She leaned into the pony, brushing her down. “They're so much bigger up close,” she said. “Is this horse especially big?”

Sebastian shrugged. “She's not tiny.”

“I really can't imagine being on top of one. You must feel a million miles off the ground.”

He smiled. “You will get used to it.”

After they'd finished brushing out the pony, he cinched up the saddle, adjusted the stirrups, and fed her the bit. Then he led her over to the mounting block. He looked at Kat, who had followed him over. She was pale underneath her tan skin.

“Don't worry,” he said. “I'm just going to lead you around to begin with. You'll be perfectly safe.”

She put on the helmet she had been carrying, nodded as she climbed up the steps, then looked at him.

“Just put your left foot in the stirrup and swing your right leg over,” he said.

She shook her head helplessly.

He offered her a hand. She grabbed it, closed her eyes, and mounted the horse.

He laughed. “You're on,” he said. “But you should probably open your eyes.”

Kat opened her eyes and looked down. She had been right. She felt like she was a million miles up in the air. But what she hadn't expected to feel was, under the saddle, just how
alive
this animal was. She could feel its warmth against her legs, she could feel it breathe in and out, and when Sebastian started to lead her around the ring, her hands wrapped in the short amount of mane the pony had left, she could feel the distinct sway of its gait. It was like being on a listing ship. She was sure she was going to fall off at any second.

“How are you doing?” asked Seb as he looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Shall I speed her up?”

Kat shook her head. “No. Nope. This is fine.”

Seb laughed and then came around the side. “Move back a bit,” he said.

And then he swung up in front of her.

She gasped and forgot about the horse for a moment. Her breasts were pressed against Sebastian's back, her crotch was pushed up against his rear, her thighs straddled his. She could feel the warmth of him through every cell of her body and smell the intoxicating mix of ocean and earth that was his scent. She swallowed and realized her throat had gone dry.

“Wrap your arms around me,
linda
,” he said. His voice was gruff.

She leaned forward, putting her arms tight around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. She closed her eyes, glad that he couldn't see her face.

He took a deep breath. She felt a tiny tremor move through his body. “I'm going to trot first, okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, okay.”

Suddenly the horse was moving and she was gently bouncing in the saddle, and Sebastian rose up out his seat on every other step, rubbing against her…

“Oh,” she said. She felt the heat rise in her body.

“I'm moving her into a canter now, okay?”

They sped up, and the bounce turned into a soft rocking, and every time Sebastian moved forward in the saddle, he brought her with him. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Now a gallop. I'm going through these quickly because you don't want to ride double on a horse for very long. Even a big one like this. Hold tight,
linda
.”

He kicked his legs, and the horse picked up speed. The rocking smoothed out, and suddenly Kat felt like she was flying.

“Oh my God,” she said. As hot and bothered as she had been, she now pretty much forgot all about Sebastian. All she could feel was the horse striding under her, smoothly eating up the ground as they sailed through the air.

Sebastian turned to look at her over his shoulder and grinned. “You like it?”

She smiled back. “I feel like I'm almost part of the horse somehow, you know?”

He nodded. “That's exactly right. That's just how it should feel.”

They took the horse around the ring once, and Kat felt the adrenaline surge through her as Sebastian gave the horse another little kick and the pony went even faster. She wondered what it would be like if it were just her on the pony, how it would feel to control all this power.

Sebastian turned back to her again. He laughed when he saw her face. “You look drunk with pleasure,” he said.

Kat grinned. “I kind of am!”

“Okay, I'm going to cool her off now.”

They slowed to a trot and then a walk, making the circuit around the ring one more time. Sebastian pulled the horse to a stop, swung down, and then reached up to help Kat off.

Her feet hit the floor, and her legs felt like jelly. She kept her hand in Sebastian's and leaned her cheek against the horse's neck. “That was amazing. Thank you,” she breathed. She wasn't sure if she was talking to Sebastian or the pony.

Sebastian took a step closer to her. “Katarina,” he said. His voice hitched. She turned away from the pony and looked into his eyes. They were dark with longing.

They stayed locked like that for a moment. Kat wanted only to push away the space between them, to wrap herself around him, to feel the press of his body against her own again. She tilted her face up toward him, hardly breathing.

But then, after a moment, Sebastian closed his eyes, as if to block her out, and when he opened them again, she saw something had changed—they had gone cold. He cleared his throat and took a step back, looking at his watch. “We should go,” he said. “We're late for the next scene.”