California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (90 page)

She slipped down the stairs and into the living room where she began to pace. She couldn’t go out with him, shouldn’t go out with him. There were a thousand reasons why.

Stop it. Keep it casual and you’ll be fine.

Steps thudded on the stairs. James walked into the living room. He’d changed into a fresh shirt and soft khakis that begged a second glance.

Lust drove heat to her cheeks.

He smiled. “See something you like?”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be.” He stepped closer, and her body temperature ratcheted up another ten degrees.

Her eyes were at the level of a white plastic shirt button. Idly, she noted it had been sewn onto the placket of his light blue shirt with white thread. Then she swallowed and looked up past his beard-shadowed chin where her gaze hung on firm lips that were much too close to hers.

He cleared his throat. “Shall we go?”

She stepped back. “Uh. Sure. Where are we going?”

“I thought about Costanoa Grill ... ”

She groaned.

He held up a hand. “Just kidding. How does Café California sound?”

“Yum.” She frowned. “But I can’t really afford it.”

“I asked you out. I’m paying.”

A spasm of panic went through her. “I prefer to split the check.”

He tilted his head. “My mother would have a fit. I’ll take care of the meal.” He grinned. “No strings attached—unless you want them to be.” He looked at her steadily.

Was the whole “payment for dinner” thing going to be settled that easily?

“Um. No.”

“Okay.” A shadow of disappointment darkened his face for a second before it vanished.

He gestured for her to go first out the door.

Hunter and Sarah were still in the garden. “Have fun, you two!” Sarah shouted, a big grin on her face.

Mandy stuck her tongue out at her friend.

James gave her a hand into the Explorer. His touch reignited the heat she’d managed to tamp down after their too-close encounter in the living room.

She could
not
keep reacting to this man like this.

• • •

Although he acted light and casual on the outside, James’s insides churned.

Mandy was different from the girls he usually dated—women with plastic smiles and enhanced body parts who wanted what he could give them in terms of a leg up in their career. He’d take them to bed for a few months, gradually phase them out, and leave them with a poor excuse and a nice gift of jewelry.

Everyone knew how the game worked. No one got hurt.

Instinctively, he knew the same routine wouldn’t work with Mandy. He’d be ashamed of himself if he even tried.

Why had he invited Mandy out on a date, knowing she didn’t fit the mold of his usual women?

He damn well knew why. He was lonely. But it was more than that. Mandy intrigued him. She had layers—independence, creativity, and good friends. As controlled and successful as his life was, it seemed empty next to hers.

“Are you enjoying the work?” he asked as he maneuvered through a series of lights and onto the freeway. In a distant field a church with an odd spaceship quality perched on a small rise.

“Much more than I thought I would. I was a little nervous about the actors, but they seem nice enough.”

“Even George?” He couldn’t resist the jab.

“I can handle George. He’s no worse than the letches that come into the restaurant—the ones who think a big tip entitles them to a free grope.”

Relief undid a few knots of tension in his shoulders. “Why did you give him your card, then?”

“Same reason I gave it to you. My marketing book said to give cards to anyone I meet. You never know who will need a caterer.” Her voice poked fun at her words.

He chuckled as he took the next exit, navigated a few Y intersections, and headed toward the bay. The road led past rows of eucalyptus trees, a golf course, and houses perched on a steep hillside. Even though the homes were modest, the area reeked of good breeding and wealth.

“The best part,” she added, “is I can lose myself in creating a meal. Will these spices go together? Should I attempt savory or sweet? I love seeing the expression on people’s faces when they taste my food.”

“I feel the same way when I go to a premiere of a movie I’ve worked on.”

He drove down the last hill leading to the beach area and circled the lot in front of the restaurant several times before noticing a bright red sixty-seven Cadillac convertible pulling out of a spot. He put on his blinker and waited.

“Even though you’re only a location manager, you feel that invested in a movie?” she asked.

He slid the Explorer into the vacated spot. “Not as much as if I was the producer, but yes.” He turned off the car. “The background supports the mood of the film. Viewers pick up small details subconsciously, adding to their experience. This job has made me pay more attention to detail.”

“Does that mean you’d actually
see
the dirty sock on the floor?” She grinned.

He laughed and opened the car door to go to the passenger side to help Mandy, but she’d already opened her door and jumped out by the time he got there.

“I can do it myself,” she said.

“I know, but my—”

“Mother. Yes, I got it.” She smiled up at him.

An urge to caress her lips with his crept up on him.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she ducked around him to get to the sidewalk, the heat from her body a salty breeze as she walked past.

He shut the car door behind her.

Only inches apart, electricity sparking between them, they silently walked past a noisy crowd of young vacationers drinking beer on the café’s open patio.

“Lubbock, party of two,” he told the waitress.

Mandy chuckled.

“What?” he asked as the hostess, carrying two menus, led them toward the table by the window.

“You must have worked in a restaurant at some point. No real person would say ‘party of two.’”

“Yeah.” He pulled out her chair. “Doesn’t everyone in show business work as a waiter at some point?”

She hesitated before she sat down. He suspected not many people showed her life’s little courtesies. A shame. She deserved more.

Once their drink orders were in, a glass of Morgan Pinot Noir for him, a Fogarty Chardonnay for her, she asked him, “Why do you want to be a producer?”

He stared at the parked cars glistening in the coastal sunlight. “I want to have the power to produce the kind of movies I want to make.”

“Which are?”

The waiter plunked their wines down and stood there.

James looked at him.

“I want to tell you the specials,” the young man said.

“We’re not ready,” James told him, then added a smile to soften the words.

“Okay.” The waiter looked at them awkwardly for a moment. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay then.” The waiter turned around and left.

James turned back to Mandy and could see amusement dancing in her eyes. Part of the purple streak had fallen down onto her forehead, and he longed to brush it back with his fingers.

“So, where were we?” he asked.

“You were telling me about your dream movie project,” she answered.

He took a sip of the Pinot Noir.
Nice.
Then he leaned forward. “Big movies are risky. You almost have to make the perfect chick flick or 007-style action movie to stack the odds to make money. Those types of movies are overdone and hard to make unique.” He leaned back and took another sip of wine. “Today, though, there are lots of opportunities to make niche movies. This country is dividing into finer and finer markets. American movies are rarely the blockbuster hits they once were.”

“That’s gloomy,” she said.

He grinned. “It’s an opportunity. There are lots of new ways to release movies these days. Production is moving from the big players like Columbia to smaller, more agile producers like Netflix.”

“And you want to produce for them.”

He shook his head. “I want to
be
them.”

Mandy nodded her head. “What would you have to do to get into that position?”

The waiter was back. “Are you ready for the specials?”

James glanced at Mandy. She was grinning.

There was no way the man would go away until he was allowed to announce the specials. “Sure.”

The waiter looked relieved as he rattled off the soup, entrée, and dessert options, including a medley of fish, shrimp, and lobster raviolis in an Alfredo sauce. When he was done, he looked at them expectantly, pen poised over his notepad.

Mandy smiled up at him and said, “Can you give us a few more moments? We’d appreciate it.”

James was struck by the kindness in her voice.

The young man smiled. “Of course.”

“That was nice,” James said.

Mandy shrugged. “It takes time to learn how to wait tables in a place like this. Lots of tourists, big parties, demanding locals.”

“Do you always have such a big heart?”

“For everyone but my parents.” As soon as she said it, she put her fingers over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I suspect it was truthful.”

“Well, as Lola is always telling me, truthfulness is overrated.”

“Not in my book.” He put his hand on top of hers. “I think it’s a very admirable trait.” He smiled. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” He pulled his hand back, letting his fingers caress her skin as he did so. “Now, what would you like for dinner, so we can make our waiter’s next visit quick?”

Mandy’s hand prickled where he’d touched her.

What was it he’d asked her?

His strong fingers caressed the wine glass, creating a reflective tingling on her skin. She followed the line of his arm to his shoulder and the tan hollow where his neck met his chest. If she sampled it, would his flesh taste salty, or more like ambrosia?

She pasted a smile on her face and said, “I’ll … I’ll have the special.”

“Would you like to split it?” he asked.

“Split what?”
The check? His shirt?

He smiled. “The special.”

“That would be good,” she said. “The portions are really big.”

James’s grin widened.

The waiter reappeared at their table. “Are you ready to order?”

James’s back and forth with the waiter gave Mandy a chance to distance herself from the desires flooding her body. She’d been nuts to even agree to his invitation to dinner. Had he really meant “no strings attached” when he’d said it back at the inn?

Maybe she didn’t want him to mean it?

No. The idea was totally wrong. While she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex, getting it on with her boss was definitely crossing the line. She had to be mature and act like an adult.

Besides, a man with his future all mapped out wouldn’t really be interested in anything more than a one-night stand with a ditzy waitress. Maybe some of his über-planning would rub off on her though. She could use it.

How about I simply enjoy dinner?

She straightened up and took a sip of her wine, the tart liquid soothing the tension in her throat.

The waiter left.

“Thanks again for giving me the opportunity to work on the movie,” she said as professionally as she could. “It’s quite an experience.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Maybe it’s something you’d consider doing in the future?”

Mandy shook her head. “I’m a Santa Cruz girl. No bright lights for me. I had enough of that with Lola. After my parents were divorced, Lola took me back to New Jersey so she could take a train to Manhattan for auditions. Half the time I was left with a babysitter. The rest of the time I was in the last row of the theater trying to be quiet.”

“How’d that work out?”

“Not well.”

He chuckled. “LA’s completely different from New York. For one thing, we don’t wear black all the time.”

She snickered. “Typical West Coast view of the city. New Yorkers
don’t
wear black all the time.”

“And not everyone in Hollywood is spending their lives creating incidents for the tabloids,” he retorted. The smile left his face. “Sally’s getting near retirement, and I could use a reliable person to keep the hordes fed.”

He thinks I’m reliable?

If she worked with Sally, it would give her more of a chance to know James. She liked how he was always doing gentlemanly gestures, like pulling out her chair. He looked out for her, like her parents never had.

There were a thousand reasons she shouldn’t. If she went into the business, she’d eventually have to deal with Dana. Heaven knew what Lola would say.

Mandy shook her head. “I don’t think so. This film is fun, but I want to stay as far away from the business as possible. As Sarah’s Inn gets going, I’ll have more work there.”

Her heart sank a little as she turned him down.

“I’m disappointed, but you have my card.”

She nodded.

“Call me if you change your mind.”

“Okay.”

The waiter put a plate of steaming seafood, pasta, and sauce in front of each of them. “Cheese?” He expectantly held the grater over Mandy’s plate.

“Yes, please.” She kept her eyes on James.

He didn’t blink.

Once both dinners were cheesed, and the waiter left, they clinked their glasses, and picked up their forks in unison.

A bite of lobster-strewn ravioli drew her appetite back to food.
Sumptuous.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“Yes.”

They grinned at each other. Sexual magic took a back seat to orgasmic taste.

She chewed slowly, analyzing the tastes and textures of the creamy shellfish pockets. Oregano. Rosemary. And a hint of …

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “You have the most incredible expression on your face.”

“Nutmeg.” She smiled at the bewildered look on his face. “I’m tasting. The secret ingredient is nutmeg.”

Mandy ate her dinner while she contemplated the discussion. She was right to stay away from Hollywood, wasn’t she? The last few days had been exciting, but the experience was meant to be temporary, like a well-timed fling.

She slipped a look at James from under her eyelashes.

He was staring at her with a slight upturn to his lips.