“Yes, just stop…” She glanced over his shoulder to where the driveway lights shone.
Grinning, he softened his hold. “The house is over there.” He inclined his head in the opposite direction.
“Dammit.” Angry, she met his gaze.
His intense focus only wavered when his gaze drifted to her lips. He delved his fingers into her soft hair and hovered close enough to feel her breath, but held back.
She slipped her arms around his neck and drew him to her.
The fuses in his brain exploded, sending a wave of energy through his nerves. All he wanted was to hold her close, stay enclosed in her embrace.
From a distance, a man called, “Jet?”
The roaring in his ears made it impossible to tell who spoke. When she eased away, he felt stripped of his senses, unbalanced. Reaching for her, he whispered, “Ignore him.”
“Jet?” Stu called again.
Always Stu, always at the wrong moment.
“He must have radar or something.” Her joke wasn’t so funny. “I have to go.”
“Billie, no.” He held tight.
Her voice shook. “Please, Jet. I have to go.” Hugging herself, she picked her way through the shadows away from him, taking with her the only real moment he’d had in much too long.
Morning intruded on the little sleep Billie finally had. She felt so out of sorts, she imagined herself a Picasso painting--her mouth twisted, eyes jagged in her head. A shower provided absolutely no aid in restoring her former self.
From now on, Billie told herself, she would keep to herself. If Jet spoke to her, she’d respond politely. If she found him alone, she’d turn the other way. Last night, she’d made the mistake of kissing him. And broke her vow never to get involved with a rock star again. Yes, she’d built up immunity to rockers, but that immunity had been hard-won after one broke her heart. A rookie mistake, and she was no rookie now.
I wish I could talk to
Zin
about this.
Her lack of self-control humiliated her, and Zin wouldn’t hesitate to point out the folly and futility of getting involved with Jet.
Getting involved with anyone right now would be a mistake. Not that she’d been madly in love with Everett. If she’d laid out his traits on a chart beside hers, the majority would have come up as compatible. Plain and simple, he fit well. He said the right things, made the right moves. Not earth-shattering, can’t-live-without-you stuff, but sturdy, reliable in the long haul stuff.
Who was she kidding? His philandering after her departure had not only been expected, but a relief. Part of Everett’s allure was the mystique of who would finally snag him. Like Jet. That thought stung worse than any of Everett with another girl.
Focus on the contestants. Learn more about the behind-the-scenes stuff from Justin.
By two o’clock, she’d answered every email, drafted a few articles and put off going outside as long as she could. Peering out the window, she saw no sign of anyone, so she grabbed her bag and hurried out.
Voices came from down the walkway. Jet and Stu.
Damn.
Head down, she pretended to text as she aimed for the house.
“Billie,” Jet said.
Hearing him call her name felt like a Taser to her heart. Stiffly, she turned. “Oh, hi.”
He jogged toward her. “I was hoping to see you.”
“I have to, uh, go…” She raised her arm to gesture, but had no idea what direction to indicate.
“Where?” Hands on his hips, he leaned close.
She said the first thing that popped into her head. “The editing room.”
“You just passed it.” He cocked his jaw.
“Right. I knew that. I was going to stop in and talk to Cindy first.” What an awful liar.
Grasping her arm, he tugged her to the side of the pool house.
Oh, if she let herself be alone with him now, she’d be in trouble. Big trouble. “I really can’t.”
“Billie.” The urgency in his whisper made her blood boil.
“No. Please.” She made the mistake of glancing up.
Hurt intensified his eyes to a storm of blue, flashing bright, erasing her thoughts. It sent an uncontrollable reaction through her, made her long to fall into his arms. Touch him. His kiss had ignited something powerful, and it grew stronger. Hungrier.
“What’s wrong?” He loosened his grasp.
Only everything.
Don’t look at him.
“I can’t. That’s all. I have to go.” Stumbling away, she wrenched open the editing room door and went inside.
Justin and Danny turned, and their faces blanked when the door opened again and Jet entered. “Hey. Sorry to barge in.” Stepping in front of her, he murmured, “Can you spare a minute, please?”
She focused on Justin, who glanced from her to Jet. “Sorry, no.” Slipping from his side, she shakily moved toward Justin. “So did you get those shots? It would be great to have them for the blog.”
The door slammed, and her heart lurched.
Justin looked from her to the closed door. “Am I missing something?”
Frowning, she covered with, “Didn’t we talk about that? I meant to ask you the other day.”
His brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure. It’s great. I’m getting a little claustrophobic here, but otherwise, wonderful.”
“Don’t let this place get to you. A few more weeks, and it’ll all be over.”
“Right.” Good reminder, though technically, it was only midseason. “Thanks.”
“Until then, stop by anytime. I’m happy to provide a diversion. Or whatever.”
Smiling, she wasn’t sure she wanted the kind of diversion he offered, and especially not a “whatever,” but she nodded.
“So did you really need still shots?”
No sense in keeping up the pretense. “Forget it.”
“No problem.” Justin turned back to his work.
The tension ebbed away. Hanging out here seemed safer for now. Justin was easy enough to talk to. “So tell me more about the editing process.”
He launched into a detailed explanation, most of which she missed, but she kept him talking by prompting with nods and an occasional “interesting.” Jet interested her more. Why pursue her? He had women after him everywhere. He couldn’t stand the fact she didn’t want him?
Liar,
Willamina
. There’s no good ending to this story, so get a grip.
Easier said than done when he looked at her that way.
With the excuse she had to check in with her editor, she left the editing room, unsure where to go. In the house, she might blend in behind the scenes, but she couldn’t face him just yet. Walking seemed out of the question, out in the open where he could see her. The cottage, for now, represented the best option.
Man, I really need to widen my horizons.
When she’d snuck inside and locked the door behind her, she let out a sigh, went to the sofa and powered up her laptop. “I’ll work, and mark off the days like a prisoner. And when I get back, I’ll torture Everett for every day of this madness.”
A knock sounded. She sat unmoving, hoping whoever it was would go away.
The door muffled Jet’s voice. “Billie, open up.”
She fought the wild instinct to let him in. “Go away.”
“Will you please talk to me?”
Did he have to sound so pathetic? Why couldn’t he play with his Bimbo Squad and leave her alone? “There’s nothing to talk about.”
The handle jiggled. “Come on.”
A female, possibly Ashley, called his name.
Inaudible, his response might have been either
leave me alone
or
give me a minute
. Whichever, it ratcheted up the woman’s tone to a shriek. “You’re more interested in
her
than any of us.”
Jet spoke in a clear and steady voice. “I need to finish discussing something with Ms. Prescott.”
Billie peered through the peephole. In a bikini and spiked heels, Ashley stood, hands on hips, grim-faced, leaning forward as if fighting the force of nature. Or ready to unleash it.
Cat, never one to be outdone, strutted in their direction. “She’s right. This is getting ridiculous. If it doesn’t stop, I’m going to the media.”
Idiot. I am the media.
But Billie had no doubt Cat would make good on her threat. Maybe it would end the show, get her out of here.
Like a nuclear blast.
Not the way she wanted to go.
Brianna joined the melee, and Danny closed in with the videocam. Jet held up his hand, yelling for him to stop filming. Danny lowered the camera, and Stu approached, his usual silly grin absent for once.
Jet held his hands to his head. “What is with you people?”
Billie thrust open the door. “Stop! Everyone just stop.”
Cat, Ashley and Brianna surged in a mass of jiggling boobs and pointing painted fingernails, ready to gouge her eyes out.
Arms outstretched, Jet blocked their way.
“Do you see? This is craziness. I can’t deal with it. Go away, all of you.” Billie slammed the door and waited. Blessed silence.
Within seconds, the cacophony erupted again, even louder.
She grabbed her camera and threw open the door. “This is your last warning. I’ll give you five seconds, and then I shoot. And it’ll be all over the blog within minutes. Five.”
Cat threw back her head. “She’s bluffing. She’d expose herself more than us.”
“Four.” Billie framed them in the display.
Glancing at Jet, Ashley stepped back. “I think we should go.”
“Three.” Billie forced a more decisive tone. The power felt heady.
Stu’s clownish grin filled the frame, blocking her view. “Let’s go, everyone. Sorry for the disturbance, Miss Prescott.”
Bickering bitterly, the women moved off en masse. Billie lowered the camera.
For a moment, Jet stared.
“Go. Your harem’s waiting.” It hurt her to say it, but from his grimace, it hurt him equally to hear it.
His chest expanded with a breath, and he stepped back, then strode off.
She inhaled sharply, wanting to call him back, but held it in. When he turned the corner, she closed the door and rested her head against it. “Damn.”
* * * *
Scanning the schedule the next morning, Jet felt a little relief. Today, they’d go sport climbing. At least if the girls were tethered to a cliff, none could attack Billie. He dressed in a tank tee and bike shorts. A little too snug, he realized, when Cat and Brianna eyed him like a male dancer. Julie, thankfully, displayed little interest.
With his arms folded across his chest and one foot crossed atop the other, he waited at the limo. The sight of Billie approaching arrested him. Not dressed for climbing, he noted. From behind aviator sunglasses, he watched her. Everything had grown so tangled between them. If they could spend some time alone, he could straighten it out. Not likely to happen today, though.
Billie moved to the van where Justin and Danny finished loading their equipment. Danny shot her a wary glance, but Justin had a ready smile.
“Riding with us?” he asked.
“If you don’t mind.” She glanced over.
Danny frowned as he went to the driver’s side.
Justin held the passenger door wide. “We’d love to have you. Front or back?”
Recognizing the double entendre, Jet tensed.
Asshole.
Powerless to offer her a ride, he could only climb inside the limo after the contestants and let it whisk him to the site. Cat and Brianna chattered away, but his thoughts swirled with Billie. Having to deal with the tension of living here had really gotten to her, and he feared it would drive her away.
Propping an elbow against the door, he held a hand to his mouth. The confusion between them must only add to the tension. He had to find a way to show her his feelings went beyond the masquerade of
Rock Bottom
.
A soft hand brushed his neck. “Nervous about today?” Cat purred.
“No. Looking forward to it.” Soon he could eliminate another contestant. That alone was worth celebrating.
* * * *
When they stopped, Billie climbed from the van. The craggy mountain towered high above. “They’re climbing that? Is it safe?” The women might be crazy, but they didn’t deserve to be put through this gauntlet.
Justin shouldered his gear. “Absolutely. Some of the girls have climbed before.”
“You’re kidding.” She couldn’t imagine any tackling this monstrous cliff face.
He shrugged. “An instructor will give them a how-to, and they’ll only go up as far as they’re comfortable.”
Right. “And the farther they go, the more points they’ll score with Jet.”
Standing a few feet away, Stu turned, his grin slightly surly. “We’re not keeping score.”
Billie lightened her tone. “Not technically, but that’s the general idea, isn’t it?”
With a wink, Stu moved away. “Let’s join the others, shall we?”
Scoping out the area, she identified an instructor and a man wearing a Malibu Creek State Park tee shirt and cap. After shooting, she could speak with the girls about their experiences, but couldn’t risk being in any of the shots. At least the videographers would capture this segment on tape, and could edit her out if necessary. During taping, she’d take notes, send updates from her phone to Twitter and Facebook.
Justin halted next to her, video camera poised on his shoulder. “Welcome to Planet of the Apes Wall.”
“Feels pretty Neanderthal.” If sport climbing equaled beating on hairy chests, this wall would be an eight-hundred-pound gorilla. Intimidating as all hell.
“You know they filmed the original movie nearby.”
Her research last night had told her that much. “Yes, and the opening scene of
M*A*S*H
shows this wall, I read. Interesting.”
“You did your homework.”
“I try to keep up.”
“You gonna give it a go?”
She laughed. “What, the wall? No way. I’m the reporter, not a participant.”
“Don’t you want to challenge yourself? It’d be awesome.”
Falling wouldn’t be. She’d impale herself on one of the spiky outcroppings. “I prefer to watch with both feet on solid ground.”
Blowing through his lips, Justin strode toward the producer, who called for Jet and the contestants.
Staying toward the outside edge of the group, Billie edged close enough to hear, but out of any bimbo’s reach. When the producer finished his spiel, he introduced the instructor, who tutored them in the basics.