Below the Line (7 page)

One last stroke then buried deep inside her. At last, he let himself go.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Come home with me.”

Marissa lifted her head from Nate’s chest and raised a brow. She was still deliciously limp from round two and content to stay sprawled halfway across his body until morning. “You want me to get up, get dressed, and go to your place? Right now?”

“I’ll make it worth the effort.” Nate ran his hand down the center of her spine and over the generous curve of her ass.

“You can make the effort right here in about thirty minutes or so.” She tried to blow strands of hair out of her face, refusing to lift her arm to move the offending locks.

Reaching up, Nate tucked the stubborn hairs behind her ear. “Your bed sucks.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You do speak the truth. It does suck.”

“But you aren’t coming home with me, are you?” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Crossing her arms on her chest, Marissa propped her chin on them and looked him in the eyes. “This is the part I hate. It’s the reason I never mix my personal life with business.” Her sigh was sad. “Tomorrow we have to be on set, and we have to work together like nothing happened between us. That is going to be hard enough without any added guilt I may feel from kicking you out of my bed.”

“You’re kicking me out of your bed? What happened to thirty minutes?” Nate tried to keep the tone of his voice light, but inside he was feeling a little bit of panic.
Surely she isn’t really going to turn this into a one-night thing?

“I warned you, Nate. Long before any of this happened. I don’t do relationships.” She made to get up, but Nate wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight to his body.

“Slow down, Marissa. I asked you to come home with me, where the mattress is better. I didn’t ask you to marry me.” Touching his forehead to hers, he watched several emotions cross her face, each one fleeting. “I know your rule. No relationships. No attachments. I get it. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company for the next couple of weeks.”

“It could affect our working relationship.” Because of who she was, she stubbornly refused to discuss the issue and pulled away, sitting up to grab her robe from the end of the bed.

Knowing that he needed to pull back, Nate accepted her dismissal. For the moment. “You’re the boss.” He got up and went into the other room to get his clothes and get dressed.

She watched, as he gathered his things and got dressed. She had to admit the view was
very
nice, and again, she wished she had more to give—more time, more of herself. “Nate--”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t. Don’t say something you don’t mean and will regret later.” He pulled his boots on and stood, pulling the creaky door open. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Marissa moved quickly across the room and put a hand on his arm to stop him from walking out. Raising up on her tip toes, she pressed her lips to his cheek and let her eyes close. “Thank you for the flowers.” She stepped back and let him walk out. By the time he got to the bottom of the steps, she was wishing she had the guts to stop him.

***

Nate took the long way home. He couldn’t erase the last image of her from his mind. Standing there in the doorway of that crap trailer, thin silk robe clinging to every curve, hair all messed up from his hands—and regret in her eyes.

Oh, she could say it wasn’t there, but he had seen it clearly. For a minute, he thought she was going to break down and stop him, ask him to come back. Then, she had stubbornly set her shoulders and closed the door.

He had to decide how he was going to play things tomorrow. He really wanted to pretend that nothing happened. Marissa would be doing just that. Her casual dismissal of him earlier smacked of a well-practiced and much believed speech. Protection from letting anyone get too close and from herself getting too close. She had said too much, and now she was running scared.

When he had left home, he felt the same way. Afraid of people, afraid of letting someone in only to get hurt again. The circumstances were different, but the driving force behind the decision to build that wall of protection came from the same place. Fear.

Flashes of the past few hours kept playing in his head. He had expected to fight her for control that first time. Instead, she had been open and playful― almost comfortable. It had surprised him.

When they moved to the bedroom she became something more feline, coming alive under his hands. Watching her ride him, the way her body had moved, how she took her time to find out what felt good for both of them― she had truly blown his expectations out of the water.

He had mistakenly thought that talking her into two weeks together would be easy once she had let him in. Then, with two weeks under their belts, two months would have been an even easier sell. His plan was shot, and he would have to regroup and form a whole new plan.

They were good together, not just in bed but as partners. She may not realize it yet, but he had time to convince her. Two weeks’ worth of time.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Marissa rose earlier than usual and took more care with her appearance than normal. It had nothing to do with Nate. She had been trying to make herself believe that all morning.

This week would be their final run through of the couple’s stunts. They would need to perfect and be completely sure of them before filming began. She hated the nerves that were eating at her gut. Seeing him today would be a real test of her convictions. In all these years, she had never dreamed of any man she had been with. Last night, Nate had been the only thing she
could
dream about. It was messing with her head.

Getting to the workout room extra early, Marissa went through her paces. Stretch, run, stretch. Even that didn’t erase the memory of yesterday, especially when certain areas of her body were still a little tender. Determined to put it behind her, she hit the bag and tried to work up a healthy sweat.

When Nate came in, she was deep into her workout. Sweat dripped down her forehead and ran down her back. She actually missed his entrance and was startled when he tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled on him, hands up in a defensive position.

“Whoa! Put the guns away. I’m unarmed.” Nate raised his hands and took two big steps back, smiling easily.

It took her a moment to catch her breath. “You should know better than to sneak up on me after that first time.”

“I made plenty of noise coming in, but you were in the zone.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he tried not to notice how much her current look reminded him of how she had looked after their more personal workout yesterday. He tried and failed. His jeans were becoming unbearably tight.

“Start warming up while I change.” Her tone was sharper than she intended, but she wouldn’t take it back. Better to set a certain amount of distance right away than try to establish boundaries later.

Watching her huff off, Nate couldn’t help but smile. He had certainly called it. Dismissive, cold, and distant. He knew exactly what he had to do.

***

Marissa slammed into her trailer, tossing her gym bag onto one chair and herself into the other. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and wished the angry pounding in her head would stop.

Damn Nate, this is all his fault.
No, that isn’t fair.
It’s my fault for breaking my own rules and sleeping with a co-worker. All he has done is what I’ve asked of him. Exactly what I’ve asked and only what I’ve asked.

His polite acceptance was driving her insane. He was warm and funny with the film crew, her guys, and even the food service people. But her—polite distance.

Filming would begin on Monday, and Nate had every stunt down perfectly. Even so, it was missing something. Gone was that fire he had before, that burning need to make it seem real. Now, he merely went through the motions. Nothing she did or said seemed to affect his indifference.

What will I do if he comes across flat during filming? Will they demand I find someone to replace him? There is no time for that and it isn’t fair to Nate. It isn’t his fault that I’ve screwed everything up.

Picking up her cell, Marissa dialed Nate’s number, hoping to catch him before he left the studio lot.

**
*

Nate looked down at his phone and hit decline. He wasn’t sure he could talk to her right that second. It had been a full week, and still, Marissa was as cool towards him as that first day back.

He needed to work tonight. He had been neglecting the club, and some time with his family was needed. Maybe some hard work would wear him down enough to let him sleep in peace tonight—without fevered dreams of Marissa’s soft skin under his hands waking him up every couple of hours.

Most of the regulars were already there, working on a meal or playing pool. They greeted him the way men do, with head nods or a quick raise of the hand. He returned them all and headed down the hall to his office. There were several messages stuck to his door. Nothing that required immediate attention, but he would take care of them while he was around.

The club was in full swing by the time he finished up his calls and paperwork. Jumping into the fray, he played bar back and helped bartend. He put on a good show of acting normal, flirting and teasing, but his heart wasn’t in it.

She walked in around nine, wearing what he was sure she
thought
biker chicks should wear. Every male in the room stopped to stare, jaws slack. The females weren’t as impressed. Jumping over the bar top, Nate went to run interference, wondering what on earth had possessed her to come to his club tonight.

***

Marissa called twice. Nate didn’t answer either time. He was obviously avoiding her. Not that she could blame him. She had been a real bitch to him this week. Not just him, to everyone. The only thing she could do was apologize and hope they could work things out and handle what had happened like adults. Only
if
she could get him to talk to her though.

There were only a couple of places he would be on a Friday night. His house or the club. Marissa was betting on the club. Grabbing some clothes, she jumped in the shower.

It was well after nine when she got there. She had trouble finding a place to park her bike, the parking lot was so full. The music was so loud she could hear it from the road. The place was packed, more so than usual, even for a weekend night.

Getting in the door was easy, but the wall of bodies around the dance floor was four or five deep. She began working her way through the crowd trying to get to the bar. Several women sent openly hostile looks her way, shocking her. Everyone had been so friendly the last time.

Somehow she got pushed closer towards the dance floor instead of the bar. It was impossible to get through, and all the people were overly excited, yelling over the music and each other. An angry brunette with a tattoo of a skull on her neck elbowed Marissa hard, causing her to stumble out onto the dance floor.

She turned, intending to get her bearings so she could try wading through all the bodies again. That was when she saw them. Her stomach twisted with something dark and painful. She turned and ran for the door, angrily pushing people out of her way.

CHAPTER THRTEEN

Kate Fisher was a spoiled little Hollywood Princess. His first impression of her stood firm after spending less than an hour in her company. She had walked into his club as if she was walking a red carpet, all smiles and false excitement—and she was high as a kite.

He had done nothing but babysit her since she had walked in the door. She was popular with this crowd, her movies some of their favorites. They had swamped her in seconds, wanting to touch, get autographs, and hit on her. He had stepped in before it got out of hand, saving her skin and picking up a real pain in his ass.

She wanted to see what his world was really like, she said. Research for the role. Did she look the part? Judging by the nasty looks more than half the females were sending her way, he went with no. He tried to get her to go to his office and let him call someone to come get her, but she had blown him off and grabbed the first guy that walked past to go dance. Her moves had drawn a crowd, and they were getting rowdier by the minute. There were more people here than belonged in the club, and he knew word had gotten out. Soon, there would be photographers showing up to fight for a shot of her, high and acting the fool.

He tried calling her manager from her phone but got no answer. More than likely he was tired of dealing with her, too. The studio was closed or he would call someone from there and ask them what to do. Nate might not be in the know about exactly how Hollywood worked but he knew a train wreck when he saw one, and this one was quickly building steam.

The only reason he was even bothering to deal with Princess Kate was to insure he didn’t lose his job. She was in his club and anything that happened to her here would be his responsibility. 

He pulled her away from her current conquest and tried to sit her in a chair. She got up and turned on him, pushing him down and starting a lap dance that was nothing more than her dry humping his leg. He was fed up with trying to reason with her and tried to get up. She protested and pressed her lips to his, trying to stick her tongue in his mouth.

A movement to his right caught his attention. Thinking that someone was about to make a move, he turned his head and saw Marissa standing at the edge of the crowd, her face ghost white. She took off, roughly pushing her way through the crowd.

No longer caring what happened to little Miss Hollywood, Nate waved over his second-in-command. Dumping the obnoxious bundle of giggling flesh in the other man’s arms, Nate said, “Get her out of here and keep her out of sight until she sobers up. Get ahold of that manager of hers and make him come get her. If you run into any photographers, lose them. Do not let her out of your sight until the manager comes for her.”

His second nodded his understanding and carried the wiggling female away and towards the back exit. Nate knew that Princess Kate was in good hands, but, right now, all he cared about was finding Marissa.

***

Damn me for being so stupid.
Idiot
, she berated herself.
I knew that it was a mistake, didn’t I? Didn’t I tell myself over and over to never care for anyone I slept with? I know better.
Her chest hurt so much that she had to stop, get off the road, and off the bike before she accidentally killed herself.

She knew she was always so careful, so cautious. He continued to think,
How had he managed to get past my defenses? Was it because he wasn’t afraid to challenge me? Or that he understood certain things about me without telling him? He hadn’t let me run roughshod over him, like other men did. They were content to let me make the rules and walk away when the time came for me to go – he was not so content with those same rules.

So stupid.
Somehow he has gotten under my skin. I can deny it all I want but the truth is the truth. I like Nate too much, and I’m paying the price for that affection. Paying the price because despite what he said, he is obviously done with me. That act of being indifferent wasn’t an act at all. He got what he wanted from me, and now he is moving on.

She felt sick to her stomach. This feeling was the whole reason why she didn’t get involved. The hurt was too much for her. She realized it for what it was. When her mom had passed, the only family she had, something closed up inside her. She had decided she never wanted to feel that way again. She never wanted to care about someone so much that she could be hurt when they left. So, she always left first. She had always made sure that her heart wasn’t involved― until now.

Tears burned behind her tightly closed lids. The last time she cried had been at her mom’s funeral. Her entire body shook as she tried to hold herself together; but, it was too late. The first tear fell, followed by a flood of them. She couldn’t stop them. The sobs tore from her chest and made her throat burn.