Below the Line (3 page)

She knew that look. He was about to do something stupid that would make things awkward between them. They had plenty of chemistry, but he needed to save it for the cameras. “You should go. I have to shower and work on a couple of things before bedtime.”

She rose, and he followed, disappointed once again. He just couldn’t catch a break with Marissa. They moved towards the door, and she opened it, indicating that he should get going. Instead, he stepped into her personal space and watched her back up until she hit the cabinet behind her. “Don’t make me go.”

Marissa shook her head and placed one hand out, pushing with enough force to move him back a couple of steps. “I don’t sleep with people I work with, Nate. Ever.”

He backed off. She wanted him, he could tell; but, it wouldn’t do him any good to pressure her tonight. Eventually, she’d come around. He went out the door but stopped halfway down the steps, turning back to look at her with that cocky smile that worked on everyone but her. “It would be great.”

She shook her head. As he turned to go, she couldn’t help herself, even though she knew it was all kinds of wrong. “Yeah, it would be. Flexibility is good for fulfilling all kinds of fantasies.” She laughed and closed the door on his shocked face.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next week dragged on and on. Her frustration level rose by leaps and bounds every day. The three bikers refused to follow the simplest of safety precautions, and Nate wasn’t much better. They didn’t understand the legal issues that required that they don’t actually hit each other. At one point, her team had to break up two of the bikers when their stunt hits got a little too personal.

By Friday, she was angry enough to release the other three bikers to her team, so they could keep running through the group stunts. She needed the time to start working on the solo and couple’s stunts with Nate. The other three weren’t as important, and she really no longer cared if they made the cut or not. She wanted Nate away from them. The separation would, hopefully, give him a better chance of getting with the program.

As she ran through the first solo stunt with him, she could tell that his concentration was off.  “What’s going on, Nate?”

Hands on the hips of his faded blue jeans, Nate blew out a frustrated breath. He knew what she wanted him to do, but it just seemed so unrealistic to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry--talk to me. I know that this stunt isn’t too tough for you. Tell me what the issue is, and we can work on it. We’re supposed to be a team here. Remember?” She grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, sat down on a strip of grass, and wished the day was over. She was tired and frustrated with Nate, even though it wasn’t really fair. All of this was still very new to him, and there was bound to be moments of doubt.

“It’s not the stunt that’s the problem. It’s the acting part.” Nate threw his hands up in the air and paced away. “I’m supposed to react like a fake slap is real and that it hurts, but all I can think is how stupid this looks. I have no clue how I’m supposed to react.”

Frustration looked good on him. Of course, everything looked good on him. She put a stop to that line of thinking. She stood up and moved as close to him as possible, looking up into his eyes. “Are you telling me, that in all your years of being a player, you’ve never had a woman haul off and slap your face?”

“Yes. I’m telling you that I’ve never had a woman slap my face.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her, worried about the glint in her eye. “Aww man, you’re going to slap me, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” She rubbed her hands together a little more gleefully than was necessary. “Good actors need to be able to draw from personal experience in order to play their part convincingly.” She took a step back and smiled. “I’ll try not to enjoy it too much.”

If a woman was going to swing on him, he was going to deserve it. Moving quickly, he stepped up to her, slid his hands into that knot in her hair, and pressed his mouth to hers, taking advantage of her open-mouthed gasp to slide his tongue inside.

He was pure, honey-coated bliss. His mouth was softly possessive, as his hands worked the knot in her hair free and then held on as if he were afraid of falling down. However, Marissa was the one who felt like her knees might give out.

There were three moments in his life he would never forget. This moment made four. He had not been dropped on his ass by a woman since his first kiss with Marianne Williams in the sixth grade. This kiss outdid his first one by billions.

It was a moment of weakness that had her kissing him back, enthusiastically. Or that was what she kept telling herself the entire time she was desperately trying to get closer and closer to him. A moment of weakness that she could not let go any further. Gathering what little bit of self-control she had left, she pulled away, cocked her arm back, and slapped him, hard.

CHAPTER FIVE

Nate was in Hell. Pure, unadulterated Hell. Every day was a new torture. Working with her, having to touch her without
touching
her—it was all a little much combined with the dangerous nature of what she was teaching him to do.

Filming would start in a couple of weeks, and he was riding an adrenaline high like no other. The physical workouts and the sexual tension combined with the nerves of appearing before all those cameras made each day seem more and more surreal. They were both far too tense.

She could pretend that she did not feel the tension between them— it would be a lie, but she could pretend. For the past couple of days, the only time she touched him or spoke to him was if it was in regards to work. She avoided looking him in the eye, and the one time he had attempted to bring up the kiss, she cut him off so fast he had to check to see if she had drawn blood.

To make matters worse, it was hotter than usual. Sweat was running down his back and dripping from his forehead. Several times he had to stop and wipe his hands on his jeans to dry them before taking her hand. The stunt they were working on required him to hold onto her hand tightly, so she could cross from one bike to another while they were moving. They had been working on it for two days straight.

“No, no, no,” she said, pulling away and jumping down off the dummy bike they were using for practice. “You aren’t concentrating, Nate. These bikes are stationary. What do you think will happen when they are moving and you lose concentration? One of us is going to get hurt. Probably me.”

“I’m already afraid I’m going to lose my grip and cause you to fall.” Nate got off the bike and paced away, trying not to lose his temper.
Dammit, I am worried about her safety. Shouldn’t that count for something?

Pulling a bandana from her back pocket, Marissa wiped her forehead and neck. It was one of those rare scorching days that she despised. A storm was brewing, and the humidity was making everything uncomfortable as hell. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to come off as a total bitch. It’s hot and, honestly, I’m exhausted.”

This was the perfect opportunity. He might not get a better shot. “Let’s play hooky. Go for a ride and cool off.” Stepping closer, he gave her his best innocent smile. “I promise to keep my lips to myself.”

She didn’t buy that innocent smile; yet, a break, away from this place and away from work, sounded so good. Later, she could blame her choice on a slight case of heatstroke and a temptation that was too great to refuse. “Your bike or mine?’

***

Nate had a fine woman behind him on his bike, the open road in front of him, and the speed to outrun the coming storm. There were few things better in the world. He was not the kind of man who relished being cooped up for days on end, doing the same thing over and over again. Not that he was complaining about being around Marissa. That part he liked, a lot.

Marissa could feel the rapidly cooling breeze taking away all of her irritations and worries. Her mind settled, and she let it drift, trusting that Nate would keep them safe.
We might still butt heads on a lot of things, but I actually trust him to keep me safe.

Now, if he would only take his own safety as seriously.

They exited the highway and roared down a couple of back roads. The air smelled of freshly mown grass. Houses got further and further apart, yards got bigger, and the houses looked more like what she had grown up in than the residential hotels and trailers where she lived in now.

He took a soft curve to the right and pulled up a long drive that ended at a two-story white house with a wide porch and a definite old Southern feel. It looked like it had been recently renovated. She pulled her helmet off and shook the damp locks of her hair out. “Nice house.”

“Thanks.” Nate waited for her to hop off before turning and sitting on the seat, watching her check out his property. He was proud of his place and all the work he had put into it over the past seven years. It was a big accomplishment for a former runaway.

“You do all the work yourself?” She walked up onto the porch, trailing her hand over the smooth railings. The sound of his boots on the steps alerted her that he had followed her up.

“I had some help, but most of it, yes.” Nate saw her eyeing the porch swing and motioned for her to sit. “Relax. I’ll go get us a couple of beers.”

Marissa could not help being suspicious. He had brought her to his home. He was getting her a beer and letting her sit on his porch swing while he waited on her. She had really made a huge mistake this time. He was going to make a move, and she was going to have to shoot him down and then deal with a tense ride home. It was not exactly what she would call a relaxing evening.

If only it were any other time with any other man.
Why do I have to be attracted to someone I work with?
It had never happened before and there had been plenty of good looking men to choose from. Plenty had made it clear that they might want something more, but none of them had peaked her interest.

She was serious when it came to her work and her lifestyle. There were rules that she had put in place long ago to insure that she didn’t fall into the traps that other women had fallen prey to—like falling for every man she worked with because the adrenaline rush was easy to mistake for lust. Or love.

Pushing off with her foot, she sent the swing moving, remembering days long ago when her mom was still alive. They would sit out on the porch, talking. Her mom had raised her alone and often lectured her about the need to be self-sufficient as a woman. She warned her not to fall into bed with every pretty face and think it was love.

Nate was temporary. Her job was to get him through this film, make everyone look as good as possible, and then move on with more experience on her resume for the next job. Period.

By the time he came back with the beers, she was steady and confident that she could resist any advance he made.

***

Nate noticed the change in her immediately. She had this mask she wore when she was trying to be professional and a distance in the eyes that was polite but far from warm. It screamed,
Don’t Touch
.

He had meant it when he said he would behave himself. That hadn’t been a ploy. Every day he saw the stress she went through. She had something to prove, and whatever it was, it was important to her. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t shake her up a little bit.

Handing her one of the bottles, he let the swing hit him in the back of his knees and fell back, sighing. He hadn’t lied about needing a break—something more than a visit to his home for a couple of hours of sleep and a stale sandwich. He tried not to smile when she scooted as far into the opposite corner as possible. “I have to know, how exactly did you get into this business?”

The question wasn’t what she was expecting. “My dad was a stunt man. Not what I do but the Evel Knievel kind. He liked to jump his motorcycle over things. So, I guess it’s in my blood.”

“He was comfortable with your career choice?” Nate’s eyes went wide with surprise. He wasn’t sure he could be comfortable with any future child of his taking on this kind of work— always traveling, never settling down. Plus, the possibility of serious injury or death always lurking. He had read stories on the internet before taking on this job. He understood the risks, aside from some of the sillier stuff like fake punches and slaps. Those were far from risky.

“He died before I was born.” Marissa’s smile was sad. “He died in a car accident of all things. My parents weren’t married, and my mom didn’t know she was pregnant until after he died.”

“I’m sorry.” Nate stared at the label on the beer bottle, feeling inadequate. He never knew what to say to someone in this situation. “Your mom?”

“Can of worms, Nate. She passed away when I was twenty. She had been sick for a while.” He got ready to say
sorry
again, and she put her hand up to stop him. “It’s tragic, but no need to say sorry again. My dad was nothing but a bunch of grainy 8mm films and memories. He was never real to me. Losing my mom was hard, but it was a long time ago. I’m better now.”

Nate nodded, glad that she had been honest. He finished off his beer and set the bottle down on the little table next to the swing. He pushed off with his foot and sent them gently moving again.

“What about you?” she asked after a minute or two of heavy silence.

He chuckled, but it was a dark sound. “I haven’t seen my parents since I was thirteen.”

She should really leave it alone; but, she wouldn’t. “Voluntary or involuntary?” She pulled one leg up underneath her and settled back, relaxing a little.

“Voluntary. I ran away. Typical shit. Abusive step-father, mother refused to leave, so I did. Suburban kid alone on the streets of L.A. I guess it could have turned out much worse.”

“Sounds tragic enough.” Marissa finished off her beer and rubbed the bottle between her palms. “I can’t imagine it how scary it must have been.”

“It was stupid.” He looked away, a small burst of anger rising up in his chest. “I was one lucky kid. I found a new family, and they did right by me. Now, I’m doing right by them.” He didn’t want to go on so he stood up, essentially stopping the line of thought in its tracks. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry? I could throw some steaks on the grill.”

Recognizing he was done with the topic of his past, Marissa accepted his offer and followed him inside. It was fully renovated, as well. It was beautiful and somewhat masculine with its darker tones of wood and earthy wall colors.

He gave her free reign to explore while he got everything ready, and she took him at his word. The bathrooms were luxurious, especially the master with its huge, two-person shower and claw-foot soaking tub. He hadn’t spared any expense in his personal space. The second bedroom was smaller but still nice with its own bath and miniature walk-in closet. The third bedroom combined an office and a library which surprised her. It smelled of old books and cherry pipe tobacco. She hadn’t expected him to have such a room in his home. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to have a kitchen that would make chefs jealous and a pool, either. He was full of surprises.

They kept the conversation light and meaningless while preparing and eating dinner. She laughed more than she had expected, finding his sense of humor dry and similar to her own. They steered clear of talk about work and their pasts. She admitted to being curious about his time as a runaway and how he had gotten past that kind of horrible experience, but she could resist the need to pry.

He insisted on cleaning up alone, so she found herself back out on the porch swing with her beer and her thoughts. It started to rain softly, taking the last of the humidity out of the air. She was glad that she had taken the chance to come out with him. He’d been nothing but a gentleman, and he could cook to boot.

Pushing off with her foot, she set the swing in motion and leaned her head back. Between her full belly, the sound of the rain, and the couple of beers in her system, her eyelids began to droop.

Nate finished putting the leftovers away and loading the dishwasher. Drying his hands, he went out on the porch to see if she wanted dessert and found her fast asleep in the barely moving swing.