Extreme Bachelor (32 page)

They managed to get off the rock and move
on, everyone in the boat, their oars accounted for, save Leah’s,
and downstream, Michael could see Eli holding it up. Leah’s
knuckles were white; she gripped the rope on the raft tightly as if
she was afraid she’d fall in again. But she looked back at Michael
with gratitude in her eyes, and that one look, that single look of
crystal blue eyes, pulled at his heart like nothing else.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. They
were bussed back to camp, and after showers, several of them went
into the little hamlet to dine on Italian food.

Leah went, Michael knew, because he watched
her board the bus with Trudy. He and the rest of TA stayed behind.
Tomorrow they were doing a harder arm of the river, and they wanted
to chill out and get a good night’s sleep. Eli had some excellent
bourbon and cigars to put them down.

When Michael did drift off to sleep, it was
Leah’s wide-eyed look of terror that filled his mind’s eye.

THE two restaurants in town were definitely
hopping with what looked to be hungry campers from all over the
Cascades. Fortunately for the ten actresses who had opted to come
out tonight, the Italian restaurant had a little bar where they
could all just barely squeeze in, much to the delight of all the
men in the area.

And just so that no stone of this adventure
was left unturned, the camera crew came along, too, squeezing in
right behind the women. Trudy, who as of tonight had decided that
Jack was beyond her ability to reach—“There are just too many
chicks around,” she complained—had her eye on someone new. One of
the camera crew. “He’s more attainable,” she said to Leah as they
sat at the back of the bar, sandwiched between the cigarette
machine and waiter’s station, sipping wine. “Plus, he’s got a
camera. That can’t hurt.”

“I’m not sure how it can help, but,
whatever. What about Rick?”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Trudy said with a
snort. “I keep trying to forget him, and every time I do, you
remind me.”

“Sorry. It just doesn’t seem fair,” Leah
said. “You already have a boyfriend and are trawling for one of the
very few eligible bachelors in this group.”

“You’re one to talk,”
Trudy reminded her. “You have
the
bachelor wanting to make babies with
you.”

“Not really,” Leah said, and turned her gaze
in a new direction, hoping to nip the conversation in the bud. “But
that’s another story.”

“So is Rick,” Trudy said. “Here—” She shoved
her wineglass at Leah. “Hold on to that for a moment, will
you?”

Leah obliged her, and Trudy sat up, adjusted
the teensy-tiny little halter top she was wearing, then brushed her
black hair back from her face.

“How do I look?” she asked, pursing her lips
for Leah’s benefit.

Leah looked her up and down and nodded
approvingly. “I’d do you.”

Trudy smiled, took her glass from Leah.
“See? That’s why we’re such great friends. Okay, wish me luck,” she
said, and narrowed her gaze on the cameraman, who was filming a
couple of the actresses as they talked with a couple of guys in
trucker hats and shirts with the arms cut out.

With a wink, Trudy left Leah sitting alone
and sauntered forward, swinging her hips in her best slut
fashion.

She would, no doubt, be victorious, Leah
thought, and sipped her wine, watching as the little happy hour
gained momentum.

The white-water rafting
had been fun—except, of course, for the moment she almost
drowned—but it also had been emotionally draining. Between Jill
pawing Michael under the guise of wiping water off his shades, and
Ariel practically screaming
watch
me
,
watch
me
, Leah had felt a sharp pang of jealousy
she did not want to feel.

Oh, but she was jealous, and insanely so. As
jealous as Marissa Pendergrast, the wallflower in sixth grade, had
been when Leah had the audacity to hold hands with the round-headed
kid named Zach. Zach had sweaty hands and thick lips, but there is
no accounting for the way a heart leans, because Marissa had loved
Zach and had been so incensed by Leah’s actions that she’d pulled a
wad of hair from Leah’s head.

Leah was jealous on that
scale, Marissa-jealous, wanting to pull a wad of hair from
someone’s head. What right did she have? None. Just like he had no
right to be jealous. But she especially had no right, because she
had moved on, had told Michael she wasn’t hanging around to watch
all the women fawn over him.
I am thinking
of dating other people
, had been her
famous last words.

How stupid could one woman
possibly be? Of course, Leah wasn’t certain what she was supposed
to have said, because clearly, the man was not to be trusted. But
she was pretty sure
I am thinking of
dating other people
had been the absolute
wrong thing to say, seeing as how she was having all these feelings
whirling around in a friggin’ blender inside her. She did not want
to be jealous, but she was. She didn’t want to see him, but the day
felt so empty if she didn’t see him. And she damn sure didn’t want
to want him, but she did, with every fiber of her body, with every
smile, with every look, with every touch.

It was because her feelings were in such
turmoil that she was very surprised and even relieved when she saw
Adolfo sauntering through the crowd toward her, holding a bouquet
of mountain wildflowers, tied together with a shoe string. When he
finally reached her, he bowed, extended the flowers. “Beautiful
flowers for a beautiful woman.”

“Adolfo!” she exclaimed, taking the flowers.
“What on earth are you doing here?”

“You will forgive my
impatience,
si
?”
he purred with a warm, easy smile. “I could not wait so many weeks
for your return.”

“Oh,” Leah said, grinning ridiculously as
she admired the small, handpicked bouquet. “But I will see you
Tuesday when we start filming.”

“Days, weeks, they are the same when you are
gone,” he said. “Too long.”

She could feel her grin broaden. “The
flowers are beautiful. But how did you know where to find me?”

He winked and said, “The crew, they always
know where to find the beauties.”

Leah laughed.

“It warms my heart to see
your smile,” he said. “I shall buy you a drink,
si
?” he asked, looking at her
near-empty wineglass. “I shall bring you a Spanish wine that will
make you sing.”

“Please, no, I’m tone deaf. It’s best that I
not sing.”

“But a good Spanish wine will give you new
ears,” he said, gesturing toward his head. “You will wait for me
here, no?”

Like she could possibly shoehorn herself out
of the packed bar. Like she’d even want to. “I’ll wait,” she said,
and smiled back.

Okay, she was seriously
going to have to reassess, she thought as he moved to the bar.
Adolfo was wearing black slacks and a cool blue silk blouse. His
black hair, slicked back, brushed over his collar. He was a very
nice-looking man.
Very
nice. Okay, not as nice-looking as Michael—please, like
anyone could compare—but he was pretty damn close.

Close enough that her spirits were picking
up as Adolfo turned from the bar and headed back, still wearing
that charming smile, holding two glasses in one hand, a bottle of
wine in the other.

A whole bottle. She really wasn’t that much
of a drinker.

“Wow,” she said, laughing a little. “That’s
a whole bottle.”

“A bottle yes, a bottle of fine Spanish wine
for the most beautiful woman in all of the mountains and
beyond.”

“Applause, applause, Adolfo,” she said.
“Your lines are improving all the time. I’m even beginning to
believe them . . .” She glanced at the bottle, then squinted at the
label. “But that isn’t a Spanish wine, it’s a California wine.”

“Spain, California. It is
all the same,” he said, pouring a glass for her. “Now. The time for
lines is gone,” he said, handing her the glass and pouring another
for himself. He set the bottle aside, then lifted his glass,
touched it to Leah’s. “Now is the time for honest
amor
.”

The timbre of his voice sent a very
delicious signal to her groin, and Leah blushed and looked at her
glass. “Well, at the very least, it is time for wine,” she said,
and tasted the wine he had given her. “Excellent,” she said.

“Of course it is excellent!” he said,
sounding a little miffed, and took a rather big swig of wine
himself. “Pity we are not in Spain now,” he said, shifting closer,
propping his arm against the wall beside her head. “For the
Spaniards, we are lovers of fine wine, fine food, and fine women,”
he said. “You have the amazing eyes,” he murmured.

There was the blush again. “Thank you. You
have amazing cologne.”

Adolfo chuckled and
glanced at the wineglass she was holding. “Drink it,
mi amor
, drink it all,
for wine is the elixir of life.”

“And all this time I thought it was merely a
complement to beef,” she quipped. But she drank. Adolfo watched
approvingly, and when she had sipped a couple of times, he tipped
the bottle into her glass, pouring in a little more. “Drink,
drink,” he urged her again. “Let us celebrate the night, for the
moon is full, and there is love in the air.”

The wine was definitely making her feel
mellow. “Did you learn to speak English from Broadway musicals?”
she asked as she sipped from the replenished glass.

“Ah, Broadway,” he said longingly. “I have
spent many hours on Broadway.”

“You
have
? Lighting?” she
asked.

“What?” He seemed confused
for a moment, then laughed. “
Si
,
si
, of course,” he said, and began
to tell Leah about the period of time he’d spent in the United
States, working on Broadway and taking in as many Broadway shows as
possible, because he was mesmerized by them. How funny, she
thought, that she never ran across him when she was working on
Broadway. Oh well. New York was a big city.

“What fascinates you?” she asked.

“The costumes, the singing. The joy.”

“How about your parents? Do they ever
come?”

Adolfo clucked his tongue. “They are gone,”
he said, and told her about a young boy, growing up in Madrid,
longing to come to America, and how, as an adult, after his parents
had passed away, he had come to the United States to pursue a
career in filmmaking.

“One day I shall direct a great movie,” he
predicted.

“Welcome to the club,” she said, clinking
her glass to his.

Adolfo’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “You,
too?”

“In a way. I want to star in movies, not
direct them. But look around, Adolfo Rafael. Almost everyone in
this bar wants a piece of the pie.”

“Ah, but you are the only one of them who
could be a star,” he said, signaling the waitress. “Tell me your
story, Leah. Tell me how you come to Hollywood, like me.”

“Well—”

He stopped her with a
finger. “
Un momento
,” he muttered, turning to the waitress who had appeared and
ordering another bottle of wine. Leah looked at her glass—it was
half-full, and she was already feeling very light-headed. She
couldn’t possibly drink any more. But Adolfo turned back to her,
all smiles, and before she could admit as much, he said, “Come and
tell me now of your life.”

“Oh. That,” she said,
rubbing her forehead a moment. “It’s really not very interesting. I
grew up in Connecticut. I studied acting, worked on Broadway, like
you. And then I met this guy in New York,” she said, and glanced up
at Adolfo. “You know . . .
that
guy.”

“Oh,” he said breezily, “The bastard.”

“Right, him,” Leah agreed. “When he and I
broke up—I mean, we didn’t actually break up, but it was more like
. . . well, okay, he dumped me,” she admitted, and put her hand to
her head again. She was feeling very woozy all of a sudden.

“And then?” Adolfo asked.

And then . . . there was so much. A shining
career, a high-powered agent promising her fame and success. The
huge crash and burn.

“And then I really didn’t want to be in New
York anymore. So I moved to L.A.” That was all she could force
herself to say. She smiled up at him; his face, she noticed, had
softened. Or her vision had blurred. “Have you managed to find
enough work?” she asked.

He nodded.

“That’s great. What films?”

The question seemed to take him aback.
“Films, Here and there. Many films,” he said again, then sipped
from his glass.

Why was he acting so weird
about it? Life came so much easier to men in Hollywood that she
assumed he’d worked on dozens of films. Even Brad, who really
wasn’t that talented, had way more roles than she did. Granted,
none of them were
good
roles—who wanted to be an extra Trojan in a cast of a
thousand Trojans, for god’s sake? But nevertheless, Brad still had
more opportunities than Leah had been able to scrounge up. And now
Frances, her agent, was telling her she was almost too old to
work.

Leah was beginning to feel too old for
anything, and for some insane reason, an image of Michael popped
into her head—sitting around a campfire, cute and perky Ariel on
one side, and pretty, younger-than-Leah Jill on the other side.
Neither woman had come out tonight, so in all probability, they
were sitting exactly where she imagined them. Great. She hoped the
three of them had a marvelous time together.