CHAPTER FOUR

"Yes." Deborah wasn't about to start this conversation with a lie. "I'm not sure if he convinced Art and Ms. Morganstein that it was a good idea, or the other way around, but they're all convinced you'll listen to me." Deborah had her doubts and she figured Rock could tell.

"I told Carey I didn't want to talk about it until after I'd read the contract and had done some research on the film company as well as Gamble and Morganstein."

Deborah would like to go back to the night before and smack Carey on the back of his head. Why hadn't he told their bosses that? Or had he taken Rock's words to mean more than they did?

Communication was rarely about what was said, but what was heard. Even so, Carey should have realized his brother's words were a heck of a lot better than Rock's outright refusal the day before.

"Maybe I could help," she offered.

Rock measured her with his sherry brown gaze. "With what?"

"The research. I did a fair amount before accepting the role they offered me and signing my own contract." She'd heard of Gamble and the film company, of course, but she'd required deeper and more specific information on both before signing a contract.

"You didn't just jump at the chance? According to Carey, this movie is going to be the making of both your careers."

So, Carey had gotten to say something and Rock had listened, despite all evidence to the contrary.

"It certainly has the potential to be. But if I've learned anything over the years, it's that there are as many con artists out there as legitimate opportunities, maybe more. Some of them even work for the companies with the best reputations."

"Have you been in the business since you were a child?" he asked.

 

"No." Hadn't he looked her up on IMBD? She wasn't sure if she was relieved or offended at his apparent lack of interest in her particulars.

His brows rose in question. "You said years."

"How old do you think I am?" she asked with real curiosity.

She didn't think this man would flatter her for the sake of trying to get her into bed.

If she was honest with herself, she'd admit they both knew he didn't need to.

"Same age as Carey. Your eyes say you're probably older though."

"I'm twenty-nine."

The surprised widening of his own eyes was flattering and better affirmation than her mirror that her skin regime was working.

"Old enough to know that taking a part without knowing what I need to about the people making the offer would be a mistake," she added.

"If that's true, you showed more caution than your bosses."

She didn't take issue at his use of the word if. No matter how attracted to him she was, Deborah wouldn't just take Rock's word for anything either.

"You mean how they believed your brother, that he owned this land?"

Mrs. Painter made a scoffing sound, reminding Deborah she was there. "They believed a boy that age owned this spread?" Tsking, she shook her head, indicating how little she thought of Deborah's bosses' foresight.

Rock gave the older woman a nod of agreement. "A rudimentary title search would have revealed he didn't have the authority to sign that contract."

"But they didn't see the reason to run one," Deborah had to point out.

Rock looked less than impressed by that argument. "They should have and their lack of foresight casts some real doubt on the potential success of this film altogether."

Deborah squirmed on her stool, uncomfortable in the role of defending actions she would not have taken.

But she had to convince Rock that those actions did not indicate a serious lack of business acumen. One thing she was sure of after their short acquaintance, was that this man did not involve himself, even peripherally, with ventures doomed to failure.

She appealed to him with her eyes. "Both Mr. Gamble and Ms. Morganstein are savvy business people, but they're even better at making movies."

Rock made a sound of obvious disagreement.

"Give them the benefit of the doubt." Deborah sighed, hurt by his skepticism when she knew she shouldn't be. "They never would have anticipated a no-name actor like your brother risking his future in Hollywood to promise a location he couldn't deliver on."

"And yet they gave that same no-name actor a lead role in their movie."

"I said no-name, not no talent. Your brother is an extremely talented actor." Deborah had no problem admitting that. "His screen test was one of the reasons I accepted my role."

Rock turned so his body faced her, his jean-clad legs stretched out on either side of her stool. "I got the impression yesterday that my brother annoyed you."

"If I refused to work with every actor that annoyed me, I'd have no career." And didn't that make her sound like a crank who'd been in the business maybe a year too long?

But while there was no lack of professionalism in Hollywood, there was also a big dose of the artistic temperament.

"Point taken."

Mrs. Painter put a tray in front of Rock with a fragrant pot of coffee and a carafe of chilled water already forming condensation on the sides of the glass. "You two have things to talk about. Take this with you."

Despite the fact she called him Mr. Rock, there was no question who ruled the man's house.

Rock stood and grabbed the tray. "Good idea, Mrs. Painter. We'll get out of your hair."

"If Miss Banes wants to stop by to visit on her way out, she's welcome."

Deborah didn't make the mistake of assuming that, since the other woman was speaking to Rock and not her, she shouldn't reply. "I'll look forward to it and, please, call me Deborah."

Mrs. Painter smiled. "Very well, but you will have to call me Lydia."

Rock made a choking sound. "I've been asking you to call me Rock for years and you've always refused."

"Deborah and I are going to be friends," Mrs. Painter, no Lydia, asserted.

"What are we?" Rock demanded, his voice filled with sarcastic humor.

"Family."

Rock laughed. "Who call each other by a title?" he teased.

"Just so. Don't be asking me to change my ways this late in the game."

Rock shook his head, but he didn't argue. Just took the tray and headed out of the kitchen.

When Deborah didn't follow him immediately, Lydia said, "You'd better go, dear. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Right." Deborah jumped off the stool. "I'll stop by and visit if he doesn't kick me off the property when I've had my say."

"That's not going to happen," Lydia scoffed. "He's angry with his brother, but at his heart, Rock would do anything for Carey or Marilyn. He seems pretty taken with you, too."

Deborah didn't reply to the latter, but she filed the first assertion away as an important element in the discussion to come and went after Rock.

After a couple of unintentional detours, she caught up to him in his office. He'd put the tray down on the desk and pulled a second chair around to face his computer, which was open to the film company's IMBD page. So, despite his clear knowledge of the industry public database, Rock hadn't bothered to look her up.

What did that say about his interest in her? Was it so purely physical, he had no interest in even knowing her filmography?

Regardless of what form his interest took, his impatient glare said Lydia had not been overstating how little he liked to be kept waiting.

"What?" Deborah asked. "You can't have been waiting more than a minute." Or two, at the most. Okay, maybe three. She'd run, darn it. And he'd clearly been busy the entire time anyway.

His brow rose, his expression mocking. "What did you do, go to the living room first?"

What if she had? And maybe she'd gotten the doorway to his office wrong, too, after realizing it made more sense for him to have come here. So, sue her.

She'd been paying more attention to him than the layout of his home the day before. "Don't be arrogant. If you didn't want me going to the wrong room, you should have told me where you were headed."

"I assumed you would follow directly behind me." The smile in his voice belied the irritation his words implied. The man liked to push, and he really did have a bold streak of arrogance.

She sat down and crossed her legs, gratified when his gaze strayed to the skin revealed and flared with heat. "You assumed wrong."

"Aren't you supposed to be charming me?" His look was assessing, his focus on her legs making her question her own motives in the decision to wear the borderline flirty black, not-quite-knee-length skirt. She was enjoying his attention way too much, despite her intention not to use the obvious physical attraction between them to convince him to honor the location contract.

He was right though, darn it. She was supposed to be charming him, or at least making her best effort to convince him. She focused on smoothing the folds of her black A-Line skirt, so she didn't have to look at him. "Yes."

"So? Charm me." He smirked when she raised her gaze to meet his.

"Now, you're being an ass." And he wouldn't respect her if she didn't call him on it.

The increased heat in his sherry brown eyes said he approved her spunk, even as he teased her. "And you are not doing your job."

"I can play any role you want, but this is me." She indicated herself with a wave of her hand. "More inclined to sarcasm than simpering."

Her white, crew-necked, short sleeved sweater followed her curves, but didn't cling to them. Her outfit was stylish on a budget and it flattered her figure, but it wasn't anything like LA sexy. She could play "L.A. Vamp" but that wasn't her. For reasons she did not quite understand, herself, she wanted him to like her, Deborah Banes, not a role.

Rock's mouth opened and closed without a word coming out, his gaze going narrow and then heating. His light brown eyes spoke volumes...about bedroom games and bodies coming together.

She'd never felt such direct sexual intent from another man and if she had, she was sure she wouldn't have liked it. But her body thrilled to that look, even as she fought to keep any corresponding feeling from showing in her own expression.

He turned to pour her a glass of water with smooth movements, no tremor brought on by sexual awareness in his hands. No matter what message she'd read in his gaze. If it had been her, she would have been using the action as a diversion so she could gather her thoughts and her composure. She didn't think this man ever needed those kinds of tactics.

He was way too self-assured.

He handed her the glass, his gaze boring into hers. "I'm not sure I ever saw my parents out of character."

Deborah frowned, but had no trouble believing him. "How exhausting." For both his parents and for Rock.

"Yes."

"I've met people like that in Hollywood." And it left her feeling disjointed every time.

His expression turned grim. "More than a few, I bet."

"Less than you'd expect." Rock Jepsom thought everyone in Hollywood was as fake as the special effects played against a green screen. "And actors aren't the only ones who get lost playing a role. They're just the ones that get paid for it."

She took a sip of the chilled well water, just as sweet and refreshing as the night before, and wondered if Rock would acknowledge her point. How deeply did his biases go?

He leaned back and crossed his arms, muscles bulging distractingly even as skepticism lined his features. "You think so?"

"Oh, come on." She set her glass of water on the desk and leaned forward. "You can't tell me you've never met another businessman who pretends to be something he's not."

Rock jerked his head in a nod of acknowledgment, but his expression didn't change. "It's not the same."

"As your parents? Probably not. It wouldn't be as personal for you." Or as painful, but she was sure he would not appreciate her voicing that belief.

He frowned as he poured his coffee, adding nothing to the dark brew. "You're trying to say my parents were the exception."

"No, I'm simply saying that they aren't the rule either." Surely a man as intelligent as he was would have realized that by now.

Only, that didn't seem to be the case.

"You would say that," he said, proving how deeply his prejudices were entrenched.

"Because it's true."

He took a long draw of his coffee, his expression revealing nothing, the silence stretching until he deigned to break it. "One thing I learned before I was old enough to go to school was that actors have a very passing relationship with the truth."

Ouch. She wasn't going to convince him of her trustworthiness in a single conversation over coffee. She knew that. But it still bothered her to know he had such a low starting point for his assessment of her character. "Some. Just like some businessmen."

"You're right."

"I'm surprised you admit it."

"I'm not an unreasonable man."

"I don't think Art and Ms. Morganstein would agree with you."

"I don't like your industry." He spoke without a single shred of apology. "I hate that both my brother and sister seem as enamored of it as our parents were. But even if that were not the case, I would not want a bunch of strangers running around my land for three months. I don't consider that unreasonable."

"Ten weeks." But she understood his point.

He was clearly a private man. The gate at the entrance to Jepsom Acres said as much.

His laugh was singularly lacking in humor. "And when have you ever known filming to run to schedule?"

"It happens." Particularly when money was tight. "Art is known for a smooth-running production."

"Is he?"

"Yes." She would have been happier if Rock looked like he believed her. Even a little. "Listen."

"Yeah?"

"I'll make a deal with you."

"What deal?" he asked, his sherry brown gaze flaring with something she didn't understand in the context. Lust.

The zing of answering desire in herself was inappropriate under the circumstances, but also beyond her control. The man wanted her and everything between them did nothing to lessen that fact. She couldn't help responding to that. Because she wanted him too.

But she wouldn’t allow herself to get sidetracked by that desire.

"I won't assume you're a dishonest businessman who made his fortune on the backs of child labor and destroying other men's companies while stealing their most profitable ideas..." She paused, letting her words sink in.

By the way his square jaw went as solid as his name and his eyes narrowed, she figured they had.

She finished, "If you won't assume I'm a liar who spends my entire life living a part."

"I'm not going to automatically believe everything you say."

"And I'm not going to assume you're a good man."

The way he caught his breath and then scowled said he didn't like that at all. "I am no saint, but I am not a bad man."

She shrugged. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt if you return the favor."

He cocked his head to the side, his blond hair cut in a short businessman's cut barely shifting with the movement. "You'd do well in the boardroom."

"Good to know." Considering the direction she wanted to take her career. She stuck her hand out. "Do we have a deal?"

He looked at her hand for a full five seconds before taking it and shaking it firmly. "Yes. Deal."

"Thank you."

He inclined his head but didn't let go of her hand. "I guess this is where you start into your pitch."

No way could she concentrate with him holding her hand. It felt too good. And he didn't look like a man about to hear a business proposal either. More like one prepared to make a proposition of the salacious variety.

More reluctant than she wanted to admit, but determined not to lose sight of her goal, Deborah tugged away from the physical connection. "I know you don't need the money."

His sexy mouth twisted wryly. "No."

"And considering your attitude about the film industry, you probably haven't given any real credence to what the movie could bring to Cailkirn as a good thing."

"So far, you're not making much of a case."

"But even if you don't like what we do, do you really want to deny all the benefits our being here and this movie could bring to the town?"

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like jobs now, increased tourism in the future, and even town pride."

He managed to surprise her again when he didn't dismiss her claims or express derision for them with his ruggedly handsome features. The man really would have taken Hollywood by storm if he'd followed in his parents' footsteps.

He had the kind of presence you just couldn't teach in an acting class.

"Cailkirn isn't short on jobs during the summer," he said mildly.

She'd read up on the town and discovered it was a cruise ship port. "If not for locals, for others on the peninsula."

Rock nodded. "You're assuming this film is going to reflect Cailkirn in a positive light."

"I know it will. The script is fantastic, Rock. It really is."

"Tell me about it."

She stared at him, too shocked by the request to answer right away. If she'd been asked, she would have said he was the type of person that eschewed movies and television entirely.

"I'm not a hermit. I have a television and I take in the occasional movie," he said, reflecting he'd correctly gauged what she'd been thinking.

Even though he despised the industry that produced them. Maybe Carey was right. Maybe deep down, Rock didn't hate what his parents had been as much as what it had done to their family.

Relieved in a way she couldn’t define, she said, "Okay."

"So, are you going to tell me?"

"Didn't Carey?"

"No."

"Why not?" Carey's role was risky for him, but he was really excited about it.

"I refused to hear anything about the movie on his first visit home in three years."

Right. Carey had said that, or as much as. And Deborah could understand Rock's viewpoint, even if it made things harder for her. Carey clearly hadn't bothered to tell his older brother about the movie, much less his promise to use Jepsom Acres for the location shoots.

Shoots that would comprise of more than ninety percent of the filming, both for artistic and budgetary reasons.

She imagined Rock had been hurt by his brother's long absence from home, as well, though you couldn't tell it by his stoic appearance.

"Why hasn't he been home? Carey talks about Cailkirn like it is Paradise."

And there was no way this man had told his brother not to come home like her parents often told Deborah. Rock had made it clear from the moment he answered Carey's page at the gate that he considered his brother welcome in his home.

If grumpily.

Rock's face lost all expression, a trick she wouldn't mind learning. "You would have to ask him. He told me he was too busy with his career. Funny thing is, his IMBD credits are almost non-existent."

"Family can be complicated."

"Yes, it can."

"So, the film..." She paused, making sure he really wanted to hear this.

He made a rolling motion with his hand. "Go on."

"It's a coming of age and coming out story about two young people who have to break away from their Old Money families' expectations to be who they were meant to be. Both lead roles are rich with subtext and emotional appeal. They start out dating and end up friends closer than siblings. It's an amazing story that will touch audiences in ways they haven't been in a long time." If they did their job right, but she didn't mention that.

For her, that was a given. It should be for Rock too, considering his brother's aptitude to the craft. If it wasn't, he wasn't going to take it on her say-so.

"Coming out." Rock frowned. "One of you plays a gay character?"

"Yes." This could get dicey. Particularly coming from her instead of Carey.

Rock crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Which one?"

"Carey," she paused. "But you know that doesn't mean he's gay."

Rock's look was wry. "Of course not. Plenty of gay people play straight characters and vice versa." The reply had come too quickly, and his tone was too matter-of-fact for it not to be sincere, but when Rock finished speaking, his expression turned thoughtful.

"Would it matter if he was?" she couldn't help asking.

"I love my brother, Deborah." Not even a frisson of doubt made it into Rock's tone. "He could become a vegan and start protesting Alaska's fishing industry and I'd still welcome him home with both arms open."

It probably shouldn't have, especially after seeing them hug the day before, but his claim made her laugh softly. She couldn't help herself.

At his questioning look, she shrugged helplessly. "I don't see you as the effusive type."

"You barely know me." But he didn't deny it.

She could imagine him hugging his siblings after a long absence, but waiting on the front porch with open arms? Not so much. The sentiment was nice though.

The sudden thought that she could seriously fall for this man wasn't any more welcome than it was avoidable.

"Anyway, I have no idea if your brother is gay or straight." She wanted to make that perfectly clear. "It's none of my business."

"Mine either."

"You keep surprising me," she admitted.

"I don't know why. Since you don't know me, how can anything I say or do surprise you?" He was so pragmatic.

But he wasn't shy. "Because you have given some very definitive impressions."

"Have I?"

Seriously? It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. "Yes."

"Like?" He leaned back in his chair and fixed those gorgeous sherry eyes on her.

"Like you had no intention yesterday morning of even considering allowing us to use your home for the location." He'd made that abundantly clear.

"I still don't."

If he was totally opposed to it, she wouldn’t be sitting where she was right now. "I'm not so sure about that."

He set his coffee cup down and leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, every bit of his overwhelming presence focused on her. "What else did you decide about me?"

"I thought you were intransigent; now, I think maybe you just don't like being backed into a corner."

He nodded. "Smart woman. Go on."

The chairs hadn't seemed so close when she sat down, had they?

Had he moved closer? The heat from his body filled the space between them. Even though she was still in her own seat, she suddenly felt like their proximity was almost intimate. And the inexplicable desire to act totally out of character and join him in his chair simmered just below the surface of her every thought and breath she took into her body.

"You want me," she shocked herself by putting it out there, glad she controlled her tongue enough not to blurt out that it was mutual. "But that's not why you're going to let the film company use your home for location."

"You're so sure I'm going to?" He didn't sound angry. Not even a little worried. He sounded curious. He sounded dangerous.

The situation felt dangerous.

No, that wasn't right. Not exactly. Her heart was in danger and that shouldn't be possible. Not so soon, but she wasn't physically frightened. The air between them felt charged, though. Her breath was coming fast and shallow, but definitely not because of fear. More like anticipation.