California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (89 page)

Beth Ann stepped in line behind him. She was a slim brunette with wide-set dark eyes and a narrow chin.

“How’s it going, Beth Ann?” he asked.

“Slow. Sand is a pain in the ass to shoot in. Writers have it easy. They only have to describe the damn stuff, not try to keep it from getting into everything.”

“So why’d you decide to direct this one?”

“The ending. I’m a sucker for good endings.” She put some salad on her plate. “And good food. Glad you got Sally. Where’s Julie?”

“Getting married.”

“Where’d you find the new girl—what’s her name?”

“Mandy.” James opted for a sausage and kraut. “It’s my job to make sure everyone has what they need. Sally needed an assistant, so I found one.”

His attention was drawn by a raised voice at one of the tables. When he located the source, he groaned internally. The actress played a stuck-up high school cheerleader, and like Stubbins, seemed to have been typecast.

“There is sand in this fish,” the woman screeched again.

“Told you,” Beth Ann said. “The damn stuff is everywhere.”

Sally started to walk toward the table, but Mandy held up her finger, and went to the woman.

James admired her speed—fast enough to make sure the girl saw her coming, but not so fast as to convey servitude. Nicely done.

“I’m sorry there’s a problem.” Mandy’s voice was calm. “You have a large patch of sand on your upper arm.” Mandy pointed, but didn’t touch the girl. “It might have come from that. Why don’t you brush yourself off and I’ll get you a new piece of fish?”

The girl must have seen James and Beth Ann staring at her. “That will be nice. Thank you.”

The line moved and James reached the end as Mandy was putting out some cold bottled water.

“Want one?” she asked with a smile.

“Sure.”

Their fingers touched briefly. He was instantly aware of her hand’s cool competence. Their eyes locked for a moment.

Beth Ann interrupted the connection. “Well done.” She gestured to the actress eating her fish.

“Thank you.”

“Mandy, this is Beth Ann Colbert,” James said.

“Oh, the director!” Mandy’s smile broadened. “I like your movies.”

“Thanks.” Beth Ann picked up a water and strolled to the table where the film’s lead actors had settled a few moments before.

He turned to Mandy. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.” She straightened out a few of the plates and consolidated the salad bowls. “Sally’s great, and most everyone seems nice.” She glanced under her eyelashes at him. “Especially that George Stubbins. He’s…um…very good with flattery.” She kept her head down and continued to work.

James came close to sputtering. How was he going to approach this conversation? He couldn’t very well tell a grown woman she couldn’t go out with someone, especially if she was single.

“How about dinner Saturday night?”

She shook her head. “I have to work.” Looking up, she flashed him a smile. “Job number two, remember?”

At least she hadn’t rejected him outright. “How about Sunday?” If he could distract her she’d be safe from George.

“Once I get breakfast out for our guests—job number three—I have a four hour shift at the grill—job number two—and then three hours of prep with Sally here—job number one.” She put her hands on her hips. “Or is
that
job number three?” She continued down the table, consolidating, removing empty plates, wiping up spills.

“What about tonight?”

She straightened and stared at him. “Are you that hard up you have to date a co-worker?” Placing her fists on her hips, she added, “Isn’t there some kind of law in California against dating an employee? Harassment or something?”

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I…uh…” He glared at her, sure his inability to come up with a good lie was her fault.

Then he saw the twinkle in her eye and the slight upturn of her lips.

He laughed. “You’re something. There’s no law and you know it. I simply want to get to know you better without all these people around.” He waved at the seated actors and crew.

“You mean without George Stubbins around,” she said, the corners of her mouth deepening further into the smile.

“I’ve got nothing against George.”

“That’s good,” said the man in question, coming up behind him. “I don’t have anything against you, either, James, in spite of our past history.” Stubbins turned to Mandy. “Honey, that olallieberry pie was so good, I’m back for another slice. Did you make that?”

Oh, puh-lease.

“I think Sally picked that up from Gayle’s in Costanoa. She said she couldn’t make a pie to match theirs, so why bother.” She slid a piece onto the plate he offered. “There you go. Enjoy!”

“Thank you. I look forward to tasting your confectionery.” His smile was more of a leer, but at least he turned and left.

Prompted by Beth Ann’s departure from the lunch area, the rest of the actors and the crew began to stir. James had better check to see everything that was needed was at hand. As he stepped away from the buffet table, Mandy called out.

“James?”

He turned back.

“Yes.”

His confusion must have shown on his face.

“Yes to dinner tonight,” she repeated. “What time?”

He let a genuine smile escape. “Seven?”

“Sounds good. You can pick me up at the inn.” She grinned sunshine.

For a moment he was breathless. Then he nodded his head, turned back to the sea, and walked to the set on the beach.

What have I done?

Mandy sped south toward Santa Cruz while her mind whirled with questions, cursing the impulse that had made her agree to James’s invitation, and trying to convince herself dinner out with a good-looking man didn’t mean a thing. She enjoyed James’s company. He was smart and interesting. Best of all, he was only there for a short time. They’d have a casual time like any other co-workers dining together. Maybe some of his obsessive planning would rub off on her.

Who was she kidding?

Her hands, moist with sweat, slipped on the steering wheel, and her inner calm threatened to break apart like a fine china teacup hitting a tile floor.

She glanced at the speedometer and lifted her foot from the gas. While the cops weren’t always plentiful on this stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway, it would be her luck to get a ticket.

Breathe. Slow down. You can handle this. It’s only dinner.

Her phone rang, and she glanced at the number.

Lola.

Talking to her mother was inevitable. The woman wouldn’t give up until she got through. With a sigh Mandy pulled into the Safeway parking lot at the northwest end of Santa Cruz. She clicked the phone on as it was beginning its second set of rings. “Hello?”

“Where have you been?” Lola’s voice had a shrill whine that didn’t bode well. “I’ve left five messages, and you haven’t returned any of them.”

Mandy glanced at the phone readout. Sure enough, there were a bunch of missed calls. “I’ve been working.”

“I thought that restaurant you work at didn’t open until ten. I called at nine this morning. Or were you cooking for that innkeeper? You’re working too hard, Mandy. Why don’t you come home? My personal assistant left to have a baby. I
need
you, darling.”

“I’m happy where I am.” The only way to keep her independence was to keep a continent between her and Lola. “I’m not moving back to New Jersey. Why did you call?” She tried to make her voice more conciliatory than her words.

“I’m thinking about doing a movie again. I miss Hollywood.”

Mandy kept her snort to herself. This was the first she’d heard of Lola longing for LA. Things must not be going too well in New York.

A wheedle in Lola’s voice sounded the alarm. “I heard Dana is doing a film that I’d be perfect for. Do you think you could ask him?”

“I don’t talk to Dana, remember?”

“Oh.”

“Weren’t you going to see if you could do some work at the Paper Mill Playhouse?” Mandy asked.

“They didn’t have anything.” Translation: The theater is in New Jersey, a state good enough for a mansion, but not theater.

“How many times did you audition?”

“Once.”

“You know better than that,” Mandy said. “It takes time to get into a new theater. Why don’t you go back to see what they have?”

Maybe they’ll do Streetcar. Lola would be perfect for the role of crazy Blanche.

“I shouldn’t have to audition.”

“I hate to ask, but are you taking your medication?”

“Yes. I told you I would, and I keep my promises.”

When keeping your promises suits you.

“You never answered my question,” Lola said. “Where were you?”

“Out getting supplies.”

“For what?”

Silence stretched across the miles.

“If you’re not willing to tell me what you’re doing, you know you shouldn’t be doing it, but you never did listen to me. Especially, when you became a teenager.” Lola said the word as if she was holding up a stinking diaper.

“I’m handling it. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Remember I love you, baby. I’m doing the best I can.”

“Bye, now,” Mandy said. She supposed she should tell Lola she loved her, too, but the truth was she really didn’t know.

Mandy clicked off the phone, put the car in gear, and drove out of the lot. The afternoon sun beat down through the front window, blinding her vision in spots, making driving tedious.

By the time she hit the area by the fishhook that handled the interchange between Highways 1 and 17, her temples throbbed.

Traffic came to a dead stop. Light gleamed off the helmet of the motorcycle rider ahead of her straight into her eyes.

Crap.
Not only was she going to be late for her date, she was going to be blind.

Then she remembered. James was going to have to deal with the same traffic.

She smiled, flicked on a country station, and began to sing along. Nothing like a my-man-done-me-wrong song to make a girl feel better.

When Mandy pulled into the gravel-covered drive a little before six, Sarah and Hunter were sitting in the garden drinking tea.

“Hey, Mandy!” Sarah called out. “Grab a glass of wine and come join us. It’s beautiful out here.”

Mandy snatched up her purse and slammed the door of the Subaru. “Can’t. Got a date!” She escaped toward the door, but didn’t make it in time.

“Date?” Sarah’s screech launched across the parking lot.

Without looking Mandy knew her friend was pushing up from the bench to race after her as fast as her out-of-balance body would allow to find out what was going on. The image made her smile, and she stopped walking and turned back to the couple. “It’s not really a date. Well, it is, but it’s my boss so it doesn’t count.”

Sarah settled back down on the wooden bench. “I wondered how long James was going to wait. He’s hot for you.”

“Yeah, right.” Mandy sat on the stone bench nearby. Leafy live oaks teeming with small, loud birds arched overhead.

“I had a chat with James Sunday night,” Hunter added. “He seems okay, but I could glower at him before you leave, warn him to be careful with my ‘little sister,’ and bring her back by ten.”

Mandy lifted her head. “If I thought that would work, I’d encourage you, but no thanks.” She stood. “I need to figure out what to wear.”

“Oooh, she’s interested,” Sarah said to Hunter. “A woman only cares what she’s wearing if she’s attracted to the guy. Maybe we should be worried,” she said with mock seriousness.

“You two need to get a life.” Mandy took a step toward the house.

“I will as soon as this baby comes,” Sarah called after her.

Mandy heard them chuckle, but they weren’t mocking her. If James did anything untoward, Hunter would pummel him before Sarah evicted him.

Warmth flooded her. Sarah was the first girlfriend she’d ever had, but with a deepening relationship with Hunter and a baby on the way, how long would their friendship last? Hunter was a good guy, even if he wasn’t the baby’s father.

“Heard from Rick?” she asked Sarah.

Her friend shook her head. “Thankfully, no.”

“Oh, he’ll do something before it’s all over,” Hunter said.

“Probably.”

“And we’ll handle it.” Hunter took Sarah’s hand in hers. They forgot about Mandy for a few moments while they stared at each other.

Mandy stood. “Okay. Too much PDA. I’m outta here.”

As she walked back to the inn, she swiped a tear from her cheek. Self-pity wasn’t her style.

Moments later she stared at the clothes in her closet in despair. It appeared she didn’t have any style at all. A few years of waitressing had left her wardrobe predominant in black and white. The casual pieces she had were old, but serviceable. Fortunately, most places in Santa Cruz were easy-going—even the fancier places accepted shorts and sandals.

A mauve silk tee caught her eye. She paired it with a pair of khaki slacks and short heels. Simply slipping on the heels made her feel more feminine. With all the hours on her feet, anything other than ultra-comfortable, but frequently ugly footwear wasn’t an option.

She ran a brush through her hair, added beaded earrings, and spritzed on a light mist of perfume. The expensive thud of the Explorer’s door reverberated outside.

She restrained herself from dashing to the window to look out.

Instead she stared at her face in the mirror, pointed a finger at her reflection, and said, “Behave. There is no future in this. He’ll be gone in a few weeks.”

Would he kiss her after dinner?

Would she let him?

Would she be disappointed if he didn’t try?

Why had she ever said yes?

A sharp knock at her door interrupted her misery.

This was really happening.

“Wow,” James said. “You look great!” He shifted awkwardly. “Um, just give me a moment to change and I’ll be ready.” He headed to his room. “Wasn’t that traffic awful?”

“Yeah,” Mandy said, as she stepped out of her room. There had to be more air in the lower part of the house. There certainly wasn’t any in this hallway.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she called out.