CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

His forehead dropped against hers. "You’re lethal, hot stuff."

She made a semi-intelligent sound. At least she hoped it passed for intelligent. She wasn’t sure what his answering chuckle meant in that regard.

"We’re not done."

"What?"

But he meant what he said. He started kissing her and because he wasn’t wearing a condom, he didn’t have to even move from where he was before he started new small thrusts that brought his sex back to full hardness.

The harder he got, the better it felt for her. He never broke the kiss, never moved his body away from hers. She didn’t know how he got a full erection so quickly again. She didn’t really care. She only knew that once he was fully erect, he turned them so she was on top. His penis pushed up into her in their new position.

She threw her head back. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah, beauty, it does. I like the view too." His expression said he liked it a lot, his gaze paused significantly on her breasts and how they jiggled with her every forward and backward thrust.

"You going to bring us to another climax, hot stuff?" he asked.

He might say she was the one bringing them to the climax, but the way he was swiveling his hips? And now his hands were cuppings her breasts, his fingers manipulating her nipples, sending electric jolts straight to her core.

She kneaded his chest as she rode him, loving the freedom to touch, to be touched, to be able to continue making love without having to worry about the condom.

Which is what they did for hours. If Rock’s goal was to convince Deborah that she was okay, he more than succeeded. If his intention was to convince her that he was fine, he did that too. She fell asleep wrapped in his arms, replete and convinced he was some kind of super-stud.

That worked for her.

 

"You know, our brother and your girlfriend are the real deal." Marilyn’s voice interrupted Rock’s focus on his computer screen.

He looked up from his email.

"What?"

Marilyn pushed away from where she leaned on the doorjamb to his office. "Carey and Deborah. They’re doing their scenes without a hitch today."

"Shouldn’t they be?"

"After yesterday?" Marilyn made it sound like the actors were accomplishing some amazing feat rather than simply doing their jobs.

"If they didn’t, I’m pretty sure Art Gamble would have a coronary." The director’s schedule could not tolerate losing both his principles for an entire day’s filming.

"But yesterday was so stressful." Marilyn leaned against his desk, her eyes so like their mothers filled with concern in a way Georgia Howell's never would have been.

Rock shook his head. "Don’t be a drama queen, sis. Yesterday had its moment of unpleasantness." But it had ended just fine. "End of story."

"Only you would put it that way, brother dear." Marilyn flounced across the room and plopped into a chair. "You are such a businessman."

"Guilty as charged."

Marilyn gave an exasperated huff. "Don’t be so, so, so…"

"What?" he asked, making no effort to mask his humor at her expense.

"Unemotional! You nearly died."

"Not even close."

"You faced down a gun."

"That was never even discharged." No one would question who in their family had the dramatic flair.

"You were still at risk." The look she gave him said just how unreasonable she thought Rock was being. "Were they escaped convicts? Did Benji say?"

Marilyn's assumption wasn’t ridiculous. Not even all that sensational. Alaska drew more than its fair share of people running from their past. "No. Home grown idiots with disgusting recreational interests."

Marilyn’s shiver appeared involuntary rather than one of her exaggerated, dramatic movements.

"Nothing happened," he reiterated.

She frowned. "No, I know, but everyone is acting like nothing happened. And something did. Something really awful could have happened to both you and Deborah, but you didn't let it. You were a hero, Rock."

He was as uncomfortable with the claim as when Deborah made it.

"I did what had to be done."

"That’s what you said when I was seven and you used the money you’d saved for a new computer game to buy me an outfit for school picture retakes when I cried over picture day until I made myself sick."

"You were a little kid. You were humiliated. Mom didn’t understand how important it was."

Their mom had sent Marilyn to school in one of Rock's hand-me-down t-shirts on picture day, her hair unbrushed, jam from her toast still smeared on her upper lip. When the pictures came in, Marilyn had sobbed until she'd thrown up, utterly devastated by the visual record of their mother's neglect.

Rock had been determined to make it better for her, and he had. "But you did."

Rock rolled his eyes. "That doesn’t make me special. Believe it, or not, most people understand that kind of thing."

"Just not people like Mom and Dad."

"No."

Marilyn looked at him with sadness. "You know you got it wrong, Rock."

He turned away from the computer, giving up on getting any work done until his sister said whatever she needed to say. "What did I get wrong?"

"You think they were the way the way they were because of the industry they were in, but it went the other way." Her blue eyes glowed with sincerity, her body leaning forward like she wanted to reach out to him.

"That’s convoluted, even for you."

"Mom and Dad were drawn to the film industry because of their narcissism. It magnified their flaws for sure, but it didn’t create them."

"Be careful what you say, Carey will have your head. He worships the memory of our parents."

Marilyn's mouth twisted in a grimace of acknowledgment. "He ignores the fact that the only family we ever had was because you made it for us, but deep inside? Rock, he knows. Just as much as I do. Why do you think I’m so upset about yesterday?"

"Well, don’t be. Nothing happened." Rock sighed. "Amos and Virgil are locked up and will stay that way for a very long time. Benji figures DNA evidence is going to link them to a string of tourist assaults and robberies."

"Not rapes?"

"We’ll see." Rock wasn’t speculating when so far, the evidence pointed to thuggery, not depravity.

The tourists had been left incapacitated with zip-ties while their assailants made their getaways. The situation yesterday might have been a new deviation for them.

One that had clearly not worked out well for the pair. The fact that they hadn’t been wearing the ski masks they’d worn during their previous robberies didn’t bode well for the plans they’d had for Rock and Deborah either.

Although, according to Benji, they were claiming they’d only been joking around. Supposedly Virgil and Amos hadn’t been planning to do anything at all. Hard to believe that when Amos had pulled a loaded gun on Rock, but no matter their intention the day before, the miscreants were facing hard time with multiple counts of robbery and assault.

"Well, at least I know how to get you to stop denying Deborah is your girlfriend," Marilyn teased.

"How’s that?" Rock asked, exasperated.

"Call you a hero."

"You are a pest."

"You’ve said that before."

"Maybe you should have listened."

"It’s an endearing quality."

"Pretty sure neither Carey nor I buy that."

"Did you know about Carey’s ex taking him for all his money?"

"I didn’t know the man was his ex."

"But you did know about the money."

"Yes."

"So."

"What?"

"What did you do?" Marilyn asked, maybe as stubborn as Rock.

"Let’s just say that whatever career benefits he hoped to gain by taking advantage of our brother that way were not realized."

"You have connections in Hollywood." Marilyn said it like she was just making a realization.

"Yes."

"Does Carey know?" Marilyn demanded.

"No."

"Would you use them to help him if he asked?"

"I don’t know."

"Would you use them to help me?" she asked, her tone hard to read.

"I don’t know." Before this movie thing, before meeting Deborah, his answer would have been a resounding no. He met her questioning gaze. "It would depend on the circumstances."

"That’s honest." Marilyn shifted in her seat. "So, his ex, is he working?"

"As an actor? No. And the likelihood of him doing so in anything but the adult entertainment arm of the industry is very slim. If he was wildly talented, it would be different, but he’s not. Besides, he’s an asshole."

"And he hurt your baby brother, so you made sure he didn’t profit by doing so."

"Yes."

"People think you’re laid back."

"What people?"

His sister laughed. "Okay, maybe that’s the wrong term. They think you are civilized."

"Maybe." He made no claims in that direction. He knew that when it came to his family, the veneer of civilization fell away.

Rock was not that guy that trusted things to even out in the long run. He hadn’t been able to trust his parents to take care of his family. He hadn’t been able to trust in the world being a balanced place since he was a tiny boy. He never would.

He’d learned early on: men were predators or they were prey. He would be a predator.

"Does Deborah know what kind of man she’s fallen for?"

"What Deborah and I have is temporary. There’s no reason for her to learn my secrets." Though she knew more of them than some people he’d known for years.

"You keep telling yourself that, big brother."

 

Deborah finished her takes for the day and wasn’t surprised to find Rock on the outskirts of the set. He’d been waiting for her the last two days since their trip into Ninilchik.

She liked it.

But she was smart enough not to make a big deal out of the practice.

For a strong alpha male who could run a billion-dollar company and take down armed criminals, Rock was as skittish as a newborn foal when it came to relationships.

They were in one though. A real live relationship.

Whether he admitted it out loud, or not. Deborah was of the school that if it walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, then it most likely was a duck.

He’d risked his life for her. He wanted to spend all their free time together…and it wasn’t always for sex. Not every waking moment anyway.

Not that the sex wasn’t amazing. It was incredible. Since Amos and Virgil’s attack on them, Rock had been insatiable and inventive.

Taking pains to leave his mark on Deborah’s body that makeup and wardrobe often grumbled about having to conceal.

Deborah didn’t care. She’d never been so happy.

She ate breakfast each morning with Lydia, Rock and his siblings and dinner each night with him, Carey and Marilyn, the siblings always making sure that Deborah was drawn into the banter as they ate their meals. Marilyn treated her like a sister and Carey, like a friend rather than just a colleague.

Rock treated Deborah like she mattered.

He never spoke of the future, but maybe that was something she would just have to show him. She’d have to come back to Cailkirn and show him that sometimes, people came back from LA. Sometimes, people found reasons important enough to make a home away from the bright lights of the big city.

Her career didn’t need her to be in Los Angeles full time.

She could compromise.

Would Rock?

She had to hope the answer was yes, because she wasn’t sure she could give him up. She’d fallen and fallen hard.

As much for the feeling of being part of a family again as for the man she was rapidly realizing she’d fallen head over heels in love with.

Everything about Rock was right. He was so strong. So solid. So certain of his course without shoving that course on others. How could she not want this man in her life?

"What are you thinking?" Rock asked as she reached him.

"About you."

He gave her a lazy grin. "Whatever it is, keep thinking it. I like that look."

If only he knew. If any man were less ready to hear the L-word, she didn’t know who it would be. She just smiled up at him. "Don’t worry, I will."

"Now, you’re starting to worry me."

"Why?"

Putting a proprietary arm around her waist, he pulled her close with a sexy look that made her shiver with want. "Because that look was all provocation and secrets."

"A woman without any would bore you to death."

"It all depends on what those secrets are, hot stuff."

A loud expletive from Art, interrupted her reply. "He can’t do that, Elena!"

The blue language that followed shocked Deborah and caused a shiver of dread. Art wasn’t one of those directors that used foul language as adjectives and cursed at his actors and tech crew as a matter of course.

He saw it a sign of a lazy brain and anyone who hoped to work their way up or gain a glowing recommendation remembered that.

"You ready to change back to twenty-eight-year-old Deborah and head into town for some dinner?" Rock asked, seemingly impervious to Art's vocal agitation.

Another date? Promising. Even if it meant missing a family dinner. "What about Marilyn and Carey?"

"They’ve both got plans this evening."

"Oh." So, more circumstance than design.

"What’s the matter? Isn’t my company enough for you."

"It’s just…I like family dinners," she admitted, not without some embarrassment. They weren’t her family after all. And the fact their date wasn't planned so much as happenstance shouldn't be disappointing either.

Thankfully, Rock gave her an indulgent look rather than a pitying or annoyed one. "I do, too, but sometimes I like you all to myself."

"That’s nice to hear."

"We have little enough time left."

Deborah refused to let comments like that hurt her. She just had to prove to Rock that she was different. That she was coming back after the filming was wrapped up. She’d made a decision.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to make it happen, especially without his cooperation, but whatever it took. She was moving back to Cailkirn and building a life with Rock.

Maybe a discussion with Lydia would help. The housekeeper was über resourceful. She’d know options for part-time jobs Deborah could hold between acting or production gigs. That is if Deborah stayed in the film industry after this movie.

The more time she spent considering her motives for doing what she did, the less she was sure of them. She was nearly thirty; and while she knew she was a good actor, she wasn’t sure anymore it was worth the sacrifice. She wasn’t sure what she wanted out of life except to have the one thing that had always eluded her, even when she’d lived with her parents.

A family that loved her for being herself. Full stop.

"Are we going?" Rock prompted. "You seem lost in your thoughts there, hot stuff."

"I am a little." She sighed and looked around for Art.

He was texting on his phone, his expression thunderous, his fingers stabbing the poor electronic device with cruel and unusual force.

"I think I should check on him." She nodded toward her director.

But Rock shook his head. "No. If he has a problem, he has a whole production team to take care of it, not to mention Ms. Morganstein. She’s still in town."

"She is. Technically, I’m part of the production team." They’d been together for weeks, but she’d never talked to Rock about her specific role in the movie besides that of co-lead with his brother.

"Whatever that means, you aren’t high enough in the food chain to be listed on the paperwork I signed, so whatever his problem is now is not your responsibility and there’s no way you’ve got the clout to fix it either."

"Gosh, thanks!"

"I’m not putting you down, but whatever has your director that pissed off, you’re not going to be able to fix it." Rock took her hand and gently tugged her toward the house. "Now let’s get rid of your coming of age persona and find my gorgeous Deborah Banes again, shall we?"

"So, you’re not interested in dating a much younger woman?"

"No."

"Are you telling me you don’t hook up with young things on your business trips?"

Rock stopped and yanked Deborah to him, giving her a searing kiss. When he released her lips, he kept her body trapped against his and her eyes locked by his own. "I have never been interested in screwing someone who reminded me of my responsibilities at home. That included choosing bed partners anywhere near or younger than my sister’s age."

He shivered like the idea revolted him and Deborah laughed.

"Wow, I’ve got to pity all the younger women."

"Don’t. No matter how worldly wise they think they are, I’m not risking some baby looking at me with stars in her eyes, thinking I’m looking for a fairytale when all I want is some good old-fashioned exercise and stress relief, no matter if she is old enough to drink."

What about a twenty-eight-year-old actor with a mostly cynical viewpoint? "I’ve met teenagers that make piranhas seem tame."

Rock shrugged and then kissed her again, long and slow.

"What was that for?" Deborah asked, more than a little breathless.

"No reason. Other than holding you against me makes me want to kiss."

"I like that."

"Me too."

The trip back to the house took about five times as long as it should have because he kept her body close to his on the walk and apparently that meant stopping to kiss every few feet. Deborah wasn’t sure exactly how she was supposed to wash the stars out of her eyes.

Rock took her back to the diner for dinner and this time, made sure they didn’t end up sharing their tiny table for two with anyone. Though the diner was as busy as it had been on their last visit.

The food was just as good, as well, but Deborah probably enjoyed it even more because Rock shared his with her and insisted on tasting hers.

He wasn’t the least embarrassed to let his small-town brethren know he was dating her. No matter what he said, he had to be open to something of a real relationship. His actions spoke louder than his words and with a lot more meaning.

Just like they did with his siblings.

The revelation sent her head spinning.

"What?" Rock demanded, looking around, his body going taut, like he was preparing to protect her.

Again.

"I just realized something."

"You looked like you’d seen the start of the Zombiepocolypse."

She couldn’t help laughing, releasing tension she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. "Nope, just one of those inner revelations."

"Don’t start taking scene notes in the middle of dinner and I won’t have to hide the body." Rock gave her a mock glare.

She shook her head. "Believe it, or not, not all of my thoughts revolve around the movie. Especially when I’m with you."

Let him make of that what he would.

Rock’s expression turned wary. "You and Carey don’t talk much about the movie at the dinner table."

"Do you expect us to?" she asked in a tone that made it clear her question was rhetorical.

Rock gave her an odd look. "Yes."

"You're kidding. You've made your disapproval clear."

"I'm letting you film the damn thing in my home and on my land." And obviously, he expected his actions to carry sway over his expressed disapproval.

"So, it wouldn't bother you if we discussed how our day's filming went?"

"Marilyn is probably dying to hear the nitty-gritty."

"I'm sure she pesters Carey plenty."

"Not you?"

Deborah shrugged. "We talk some."

"I bet."

"She's smart. I think Elaine is considering interning Marilyn."

"They could both do worse."

"I'm surprised to hear you say so."

"Me too."

If he could change his opinion about the evils of the film industry this far, the man could definitely change his outlook on relationships. "So, you want me and Carey to talk about work at dinner?"

"Not exclusively." The horror that idea produced was clear in every line of Rock's face and depths of his tone.

Deborah couldn't hold back her laugh, but she managed to assure him. "Duly noted."

 

"You're not serious? We must have some kind of contract with him." Deborah could not believe what Ms. Morganstein had just told her.

Art looked at Deborah, frustration written all over the director's face. "You'll find that contracts with financial backers on indie projects like this are written with the majority of the concessions in their direction."

"But we're more than half done with the filming. He can't pull out now."

"He can. And he has."

"Because of the overages on the schedule?" she asked with disbelief. "That makes no sense."

"To him it does."

"And you can't change his mind."

"Believe me when I say I tried."

"I've spoken with Mr. Barston, as well," her movie's executive producer offered, her face tighter than usual with stress. "He's already cut off access to funds and has no interest in changing his mind."

"But even with the accidents and scheduling problems, we're barely going over budget. Every movie goes overtime and budget." At least every one she'd worked on.

Art rubbed his temples, the lines around his eyes and bracketing his mouth tight with unhappiness. "I think there's something else going on, but I don't know what it is."

"You think maybe he's run out of money?" Deborah asked.

"No. That would make more sense, but we checked his solvency when he came onboard as our primary financial backer. He'd just gone through a divorce, but he had a good prenup and she got nothing. The man has plenty of money."

"Then why?" Deborah just didn't understand.

It was a good movie, great scenery, solid acting, and writing that impressed her every day.

"I don't know." Art looked both frustrated and dejected.

"Okay, so we go to other backers. It was great to have a single producer with deep pockets, but he's not the only game in town."

Ms. Morganstein's smile was approving. "I like your attitude. I've already started putting out feelers to my contacts."

"Yeah, I might have a lead on some funds, not enough to finish the film, but maybe enough to keep us going for a few more days while we look for more support." Art sighed. "But one of Nevin Barston's requirements for coming on board was that he was the only financial backer. He wasn't even happy about the money Elaine and I brought to the project. I had to turn down people who were expecting to be part of my next project. That money has already gone into other ventures, or simply isn't available any longer."

Deborah understood what was unsaid. In order to get the generous funding of a single angel investor, Art had turned down people that wouldn't fund the project now on principle.

"You'll need to do your part as well, Deborah." Ms. Morganstein's expression was stern.

Deborah squared her shoulders, determined to do just that. "I'll do my best, but I don't have anything like the connections you two do."

"On the contrary, you have a connection even Carey would be hard pressed convincing to invest." Ms. Morganstein's expression was calculating.

Confused, Deborah looked at first the executive producer and then the director. "Who are you talking about?" Then the penny dropped. "You want me to ask Rock?"