Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (8 page)

He seemed to catch it as he looked at her, then grinned, his teeth a stunning contrast to his olive complexion. “And they’re a shade of green.”

Shane bristled. “What are you talking about? I’m merely—“

“—jealous,” he said, ending her sentence for her.

“You’re too full of yourself.”

“Your eyes are flashing,” he said.

“It’s the lighting,” she retorted, gesturing at the giant stork-like fixtures that surrounded them as they sat in what was to be the interior of the castle. “It makes everything look like it’s flashing. I’ve only known you for three days. What makes you presume—?”

“Chemistry,” he told her, again not letting her finish. “I can feel it.”

“Will you let me finish a sentence?” she cried.

“Not when I can read your mind.”

She drew herself up, utterly frustrated. “If you could read my mind, I think you’d be in for a big shock right about now,” she said, trying to leave. She hadn’t given any thought to where she was going to go once she took her initial steps. That would come later.

But she never got to take her initial steps, as Nick’s hand gripped her wrist. “Can’t you take a little teasing?” he asked. “Or did I strike a nerve?” The question was asked in a very low and sensuous tone. Shane sat back down, but she made no response.

“As it happens,” he said, “I had to take a quick flight out at 7:00 a.m. Seems the studio heads wanted to hold court and I, for one, don’t believe in trying to buck their authority.”

“From what I hear, that’s a refreshing change from the usual star complex,” Shane said, hiding behind her notebook as she took further notes. She knew he didn’t owe her an explanation, but she was relieved and glad he was giving her one— and that it didn’t include another woman.

“They pay me to do a job. If I didn’t like the job, I wouldn’t take it. I see no point in signing a contract and then putting on airs,” he said.

His voice rang with sincerity and self-confidence. Until she had met him, she had thought she possessed a great deal of self-confidence, and it smoothed the bumpy road of life. But she had the sinking feeling she could not travel through life so easily anymore.

“Speaking of doing my job ...” Nick said, suddenly getting to his feet. The director, John Bowman, was gesturing for him to join his female costar. “This is where I do some of my finest acting.”

Shane blinked. It wasn’t like Nick to boast, and she was curious about what the scene entailed. “What do you mean?” she asked forthrightly.

“This is the scene in which I make love to my costar, a very nasty and unlovable lady in real life,” he said in a stage whisper. He gave her no time to comment, turning quickly to hurry over toward Bowman and Adrienne.

Shane watched the first two takes of the scene. And she was impressed. How could he look so amorous with someone he professed to dislike? She knew he was an actor, but it was hard for her to believe that he could playact feelings so opposite to his real ones. Didn’t he get any kick from those sensual embraces? And the kisses looked too real. Shane decided that anyone who married an actor was crazy—unless the actor accepted only character roles and never came within lip range of actresses like Adrienne Avery.

On the third take, with the heavy emotion of so-called make-believe passion charging the air, Shane rose from her chair. She went in search of unoccupied crew members to ply with questions about Nick.

She never looked back.

But the answers she got here took on the same hues of admiration as those she’d gotten at Saturday’s party. Everyone genuinely liked Nick. There wasn’t a bad word to be offered by any of them. Several of the old-timers, the people he had kept with him since the first movie, bent Shane’s ear with story after story about Nick. She began to fear that readers would fall asleep reading her article.

When the cast broke for lunch, Shane took it upon herself to try to corner John Bowman. The director was not known for his patience or his gentle manner. In his time, he had sent many an actress off the set in tears, and many an actor had threatened him with physical harm. John Bowman thrived on it.

“I don’t have time to waste talking to a gossip columnist,” Bowman snapped as she entered his trailer.

Shane kept on coming anyway. “Magazine writer,” she corrected him. “Mind if I sit?”

“Yes!”

“Fine, thank you,” she said, sitting down on one of the two chairs in the trailer. She glanced about quickly. It looked like a monk’s cell.

“I don’t like distractions,” Bowman rasped, as if reading her mind. “The only thing in my life while I’m on a picture is that picture. Now, what is it?” he demanded, lighting up a rather foul-smelling cigar, one of the two he allowed himself each day.

“I’d like your opinion of Nick Rutledge,” Shane said simply, fishing out her tape recorder and turning it on. Her bag fell with a thud beneath it.

“Turn that thing off,” Bowman ordered. “If you can’t remember what I tell you, you shouldn’t be in this business.” She did as he bid her. “Nick’s a man’s man,” he told her flatly. “I know all you ladies have palpitations each time you see him,” he said, waving his hand dismissively in her direction. Shane bit her tongue and swallowed a retort. “But for all that, he’s a rugged, honest, high-principled human being. None of this ‘god complex’ garbage that plagues so many of those fly-by-night jerks we have in Hollywood. They happen overnight and disappear that way too. Nick’s going to be around for a long, long time. Comes early, knows his lines, stays out of trouble. If he thinks a scene should be played differently, he comes and tells me so. No grandstanding.”

Shane tried not to cough as wreaths of cigar smoke floated her way. Her eyes smarted a little. “Isn’t it true that actors are generally overgrown, insecure children, just pretending, acting out lives that they don’t have the nerve to live out on their own?” Shane prodded, thinking of all the preconceived opinions she had formed before she had ever met Nick.

“I don’t have time for that psychology junk. Some of them deserve to have the stuffing knocked out of them—but Nick’s not one of them. I worked with him on his first picture, and I’m working with him now. There’s no difference—except that he’s gotten better.” Bowman rose abruptly, unfolding his long, lanky frame. “That’s all I have time for,” he told her. “You can go.” It sounded like a command. He was definitely a man used to being obeyed, Shane thought, gathering her things and shoving them into her purse before slinging it over her shoulder.

She thanked the director and made her exit. As she swung the door shut, the shoulder strap of her bag caught on the doorknob. Her momentum was such that it threw her off balance, and she tripped down the three steps leading away from Bowman’s trailer. Shane was spared the embarrassment of finding herself sprawled on the ground by two strong arms that encircled her just before she landed.

“I thought you didn’t fall at men’s feet,” Nick teased, pulling her upright.

Shane felt the warm waves of raw desire wash over her as he held her close against his body. He was still wearing the costume she had first met him in, enhancing the picture of an irresistible rogue.

“Not by choice,” she murmured. She had meant the words to be a flippant retort, but instead they gave testimony to the ambivalent feelings that were beginning to pull at her.

Nick merely smiled, as if sensing what she was struggling to hide. “Old John throw you out?” he asked, nodding toward the director’s trailer.

Why was he still holding her? And why couldn’t she think clearly? Right now she was more conscious of the imprint of each one of his fingers upon her body than she was of anything else.
 

“Actually, no,” she said between dry lips. “He did spare me a few words. Thinks rather highly of you. Are you going to hold onto me all day?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” he said, and grinned. He purposely slid his hands in a languid motion down to her waist, brushing briefly against her hips before he freed her.

The man could retire from acting and become rich just teaching his technique with women, she thought, trying hard to recover.

“C’mon, I’ll buy you lunch,” he offered.

“Last of the big-time spenders,” she bantered back, knowing that no one paid for meals on the set during location shooting.

Nick laughed and put his arm about her shoulders as they walked to the makeshift commissary.

The next day was practically the same. Shane came on the set and observed the hectic pace of the everyday work done to create a film. She interviewed several people. The crew became used to having her prowl about, asking all sorts of questions. It occurred to her that she was asking more questions than were necessary for her article. It was slowly beginning to dawn on her that she was trying to learn everything there was to know about Nick’s life. Then too, she found herself angling to be with him as much as possible. But his time was heavily taxed, divided as it was, between takes, rehearsals, and conferences. When he did have a spare moment, Nick usually spent it on the set rather than in his trailer, making himself visible and mingling with the crew. Shane began to see why everyone practically doted on him. He sounded too good to be true, and despite her best efforts, she realized she was falling in love with him.

And then, on Wednesday, a very strange thing happened. After lunch, Nick disappeared. She had seen him rehearsing a scene just before noon. Several people had demanded his attention when the scene ended, so Shane had gone to get a light lunch. When she returned with her tray, hoping to eat with Nick, he was nowhere in sight. She didn’t think much of it until she actually went to look for him an hour later. Questioning several people who might have seen him brought her nothing but casual shrugs. No one questioned his absence:

But Shane did.

“Where did you go yesterday?” Shane asked, cornering Nick in his trailer the next morning. The makeup man was putting the finishing strokes on Nick’s face, highlighting his best features. Shane sat back, leaning against a table as she watched. She saw Nick looking at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to keep his head immobile until the makeup man was through.

“I had some business to take care of,” he told her vaguely.

“Oh?” Her interest was piqued by his evasive tone. “And that was?” she prodded.

“A secret,” he answered in a firm tone of voice.

The makeup man chose that moment to flip off the protective cloth from Nick’s neck and make his retreat. Shane was left in the suddenly silent room chewing on her pencil and eyeing Nick curiously. Up to now, he had been forthright, open. Was this “secret” the angle she was searching for? Or was Nick just being playful? Somehow, judging from his expression, she didn’t think he was teasing her. He had been involved in something yesterday that he didn’t want to talk about. Shane was going to find out what.

“How’s the article going?” Nick asked, swinging his chair around to look at her.

“So far, if they were giving out Superman awards, you’d be the top contender,” she told him glibly.

“You don’t sound very happy about that,” he observed, coming up next to her.

“Cataloging a person’s virtues makes for very dull reading,” she said honestly, trying not to pay attention to the fact that his body was almost touching hers.

“Am I dull?”
__

No, he certainly wasn’t that, she thought. Dull was the last word she would have used to describe him. Maybe if she tried to capture his sensuality on paper, that would be enough. Maybe—

Her thoughts went no further as they gave way to a font of churning emotions. Nick’s fingers were slowly weaving their way about her waist, tilting her body toward his as he lowered his head.

“I’ll mess your makeup,” she protested. The absurdity of her comment hit her, and she began to
giggle.

“First time I ever had a woman laugh in my face,” Nick said, releasing her. Someone else, Shane guessed, would have been offended. But Nick merely looked amused, as if he were thoroughly enjoying everything about her.

“First time I ever had to worry about a man’s makeup,” she rejoined.

“Oh?” he asked, hugging her to him. The affectionate movement surprised her. There was a definite warmth to it that went beyond that of a man merely intent on seduction. “And how many men have there been?”

She looked up into his face, drinking in every wonderful feature. “Far fewer men than there have been women for you,” she countered.

“Then you must be very lonely,” he said. There was just a touch of seriousness to his voice.

Shane laughed. “Now, that you can’t expect me to believe.” She cocked her head. “You had a zillion women throwing themselves at you at that party we went to. And that was just one night.”

“That is exactly the problem,” he told her. “They want to be with me for who I am supposed to be—a glamorous movie star, someone who can further their career. They don’t want to be with me because they like me.” He looked into her eyes. “Do you see the difference?” He made it sound important that she did.

As she studied him, she saw a well of loneliness within his eyes. This was something she had not even considered before. Could it be that even though Nick possessed a life-style people fantasized about, in reality he was lonely? As lonely, perhaps, as she in her fast-paced, career-oriented world? She felt an intense tenderness toward him as she touched his face, her cool fingers sliding slowly over his cheek.

“Yes,” she said softly, “I do see the difference. And I can’t understand why any woman in her right mind would think of using you to further her career when she’s with you.”

Nick kissed her fingertips as they passed by his lips. Good Lord, how she could love this man!

Just then, a sharp knock on the door broke the mood within the trailer. “Mr. Bowman wants you on the set, Mr. Rutledge,” came the polite call.

“I could start being temperamental,” Nick suggested, whispering the words into her ear as he lightly licked the lobe.

Shane shivered, but tried to keep her tone light. “What, and ruin a wonderful legend?” she scoffed. “Go out, your public awaits.”