Ethan (11 page)

“I’ve been your compass,” she said.
“Really not much more than that.”

She was more. A hell of a lot
more, but he said, “Sometimes that’s all a man needs.”

She moved to the bed where she’d draped a silky dress across the mattress. She picked it up and showed it to him.
It was blue, sleeveless and had a deep V neckline.

“I found this is the closet. I’m guessing it belongs to Emme?”

Ethan shrugged. “Possibly.”

“Well, I mean, Eva is a lot taller than me. Nothing of hers would fit.” She hel
d the dress in front of her. The hem skimmed her knees. “Emme is closer to my height.”

“It could be hers,” Ethan said. “You can borrow it.”

“Could it be someone else’s?”

He frowned. “Whose?”

Shae gave him a men-are-dense look. “I don’t know, Ethan, another woman’s? I don’t have a lot of choices here with me and I would like to borrow the dress, but not if it belongs to someone you’ve dated.”

He
cringed inwardly at the thought and didn’t have to ask why. He got it. He didn’t want to see her in a dress worn by a woman he’d been with, either. Shae was not at all a part of that world. Somewhere along the way, he’d separated his life into before and after—before Shae arrived he was stuck, treading water—since she’d gotten here he felt like he’d swum miles, broke free of a riptide and was getting closer to shore.

It was hard to believe they’d known each other only a we
ek. Ethan supposed the forced intimacy of their situation created the closeness he felt for her. She disturbed him, during each of their evening conferences challenging his perspective on his past and knocking him off his equilibrium. She stirred him, and often times managed to do it with just a glance, or the slow curving of her lips in a sultry smile intended to unravel him. She revived him, because with her he felt the fluttering of new emotions. It wasn’t like anything he’d experienced before. Certainly not the surface encounters he had with the woman he’d dated since Tina. And not the pubescent thrill of love he’d felt for his wife. With Shae, there was something else at work. A startling find, like the red bud of a flower opening over a landscape of snow. Unexpected. Uncommon. Unparalleled.

And
while the situation they found themselves in was created by artificial means, the intimacy was the real deal. He felt it keeping time with his pulse. He felt the familiar urge to flee wrestle with his desire to stay. He dug in his heels. Felt his hands flex into fists. He wasn’t running away. Not this time.

Shae was worth fighting for. So was his freedom. Were
the two a tight combo or was she just his ride to the show?

He could offer no promises, not that she was asking for any.
But damn how he wanted to.

“Ethan?” she prodded.

He cleared the gravel from his throat and assured her, “You’re the only woman I’ve brought here Shae. I have a condo in The City. I used that when I was dating. But it’s been a while,” he tacked on that last bit, wanting her to have that reassurance.

“You stopped dating?’

“Months ago.”

“Why?”

“I
t was futile.” All of his relationships began with an expiration date.

Chapter Eleven

Shae
studied the wine list. She wanted to make it good—soon there would be none of this for her for a while. And not just during her pregnancy, she planned to nurse and to give up anything that was even suspected to cause harm to an unborn fetus or infant. She’d done her reading and so far the only thing she’d miss was her morning coffee. A small sacrifice.

“I’ll have the
Pinot Grigio—Napa Valley,” she told the hovering waiter. A taste of home. A reminder of her intentions. And she needed it.

Ethan cleaned up well. He
wore a dark green, button-up shirt that brought out the color of his eyes and was opened at the throat so that a swirl of chest hair was visible. It was clearly tailored to fit the breadth of his shoulders and contain but not hide the obvious strength of his body. He paired it with black slacks, belted at his trim waist, and wore a pair of leather top-siders—a reflection of his love for the water.

He caught her looking and smiled at her.

“Like what you see?” He arched an eyebrow and his smile deepened, exposing just about every one of his perfect teeth. He was quite pleased with himself and maybe the most relaxed she’d ever seen him, off the water. And then he returned the favor, allowing his eyes to move over her from the top of her head and the casual arrangement of her hair in its up-do, to the creamy slope of her neck, where heat ignited in his gaze. When he got to her shoulders, bared by  the spaghetti straps of the dress, his gaze became a physical touch, his smile faded as passion intensified.

“
I think the appreciation is mutual,” she said, her voice thick with the need he stirred in

her.

He nodded but had to clear his throat before he spoke again.

“Not into beer?”

And Shae had to clear her mind before she understood what he meant.
He’d ordered a dark on tap and had encouraged her to do the same. He was changing the subject, retreating to safer ground. She pointed that out.

“Would you rather I take you here on the table?” he challenged.

“I’d take you anywhere,” she returned, knowing it would push at his control. She watched a muscle twitch beside his left eye and his fingers clench over that washboard stomach.

“Don’t do that, Shae.” His voice was low, deep, lethal. “I want us to have this meal. To talk. There’s more I want to know about you.”

Shae studied the flush of his cheeks, the intent in his eyes, and gave in.

“Like what?”

“How about family?” he suggested. “You’re close?”

Shae nodded. “I have more in common with my sister, Kara. I guess we’re the artists in the family. She plays classic piano and attended Julliard.”

“Impressive.”

“Definitely. My brother’s a bit of a lone wolf.” She thought about that for a moment. Jude was the oldest of the siblings, and always the most responsible. He’d believed in Shae and even sent her a little cash every month when she was still finding her place in Hollywood. She loved him dearly.

“Why?”

Shae shrugged. “He was in a car accident when he was nineteen years old. His girlfriend was killed.” And Shae didn’t think he’d ever gotten over it.

“Was he at fault?”

“No. A drunk driver ran a red light.” And even though Jude understood the facts, Shae believed he was haunted by what he could have done differently. She expelled the heaviness from her chest. “I think that’s why he went into law enforcement. He
needed
to make a difference.”

Ethan  nodded. “I understand that.”

It was the reason he’d joined the Marines.

“
Even if it didn’t turn out the way you wanted?”

“It seldom does.”

“No,” she agreed. Jude left the police force a few months ago. He didn’t say why and Shae wasn’t sure if it was a permanent decision or a leave of absence.

“What about your other sister?”

“Nikki. She’s a school teacher. Kindergarten.” And Shae laughed, thinking about some of the antics her sister described the last time Shae was home for a visit. “She loves her job and

she’s very good at it. She’s also the family dare-devil.”

“How so?”

“
A few months ago she was free rappelling in Belize. Last summer, it was bungee jumping and sky diving.”

“She’s an adrenalin junkie.”

“I think so.”

The waiter was back at their table and Shae hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“The sea bass is locally caught,” Ethan suggested. “They’ll cook it any way you want it.”

His gaze, no longer a heated caress, was still
warm with awareness. His voice was smooth, deep and pulled at something feminine in her, made her body feel more liquid than matter. He sat back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach, and watched her. It was a casual pose, but Shae felt the leashed power in his body.

They’d had sex more often than sleep the past few nights and in the predawn hours
, too. And each time, Ethan had been generous but demanding, bold but also soft towards her when they had finished and were in the afterglow.

They felt
more substantial than temporary, but there was danger in feeling that way.

They were drawn together out of necessity. She shouldn’t forget that.

It occurred to her that this evening felt like a date. And if that was the case, they’d done things in a seriously backward way. It also put a different cast on whatever was developing between them. When a man and woman had a fling, they didn’t share dinner at a four star restaurant, did they? Wasn’t it all about the bedroom? Shae wasn’t sure of the rules of short-term engagement, but it disturbed her.

“This feels like a first date,” she said and watched his face change. She expected a frown, perhaps a return to the grim countenance she often encountered when challenging him. Instead, he la
ughed, showing off strong teeth and that damn dimple that teased her.

“Hmmm, four nights of surfing, one dinner out, two barbecu
es, take-out and too many hours spent dissecting my heart—we’re way beyond a first date,” he informed her.

“But we’re not dating,” she reminded him.

“Okay, if we were dating then.”

The shack, tacos
, and afterward searing sex, the memory of which curled her toes. And a  lot of hot moments since. She tried not to think about them. Tried to deny the momentum each outing had added toward something deeper.

“You don’t date,” she pointed out.
“Remember, the futility. . .?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t apply here.”

“Why?”

“What’
s been happening with us isn’t even remotely surface level.”

She nodded. “But our situation is different.
”

“True. But take the screenplay out of the equation, and we s
till have. . .something.”

That didn’t sound very promising. The chicken pox were something. So was the Titanic.

“Dating in the past was an act of diversion, escape,” he admitted.

“From what?”

“Loneliness. Thinking.”

“And whenever a woman got too close—?”

“They never got more than skin-deep.”

“You left.
”

He shrugged. “
I wasn’t ready to look at my past or how it fucked with my present.”

“But you are now.”

“I was ready before I met you,” he pointed out and Shae nodded. He’d been working on it long before she’d arrived on the scene. Stevie was right about that—Ethan was tenacious. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d turned over every stone, examined each moment of his marriage up close, and drew accurate conclusions.

“Stevie warned me that you were determined and never gave up.”

“I wallowed for a while,” he admitted. “But it’s always better to know your enemy.”

“Even when it’s yourself?”

“Especially then.”

The waiter
passed by their table again and Shae dropped her menu, not having done more than glance at it. She ordered the sea bass. Ethan ordered the steak and suggested they share so they would have surf and turf.

“
You’re almost there,” she said, picking up their conversation when the waiter left.

“There’s more you need to know,” he told her.

Shae knew as much, and she was curious about a few things. “Have you written the ending?”

Ethan shook his head. “Not possible,” he said. “I haven’
t lived it yet. The story won’t end with me muddling around in the dark.”

“
Where’s the victory in that?”

“
Exactly.”  

He pulled off his beer and Shae watched his Adam’s apple move as he drank.
    

“For not having k
nown each other until a week ago, our lives have some common parallels.”

“How so?”

“We worked for what we have, sometimes knocking on the same doors.” Stevie for one. “You lived out of your van; I crashed wherever I found an empty couch. Our first big contracts were for the same production company.”

“You did your research.” She was surprised he knew so much about her.

“Of course,” he returned.

Because he was going to trust he
r with a lot, and for a man who trusted little and asked for even less, research was required.

“I didn’
t have that luxury,” Shae returned. “In fact, I had about ten minutes.”

Ethan chuckled.
“Stevie has a way of getting what he wants, doesn’t he?”

“He’s loyal to all of his talent,” Shae pointed out. “So what did you do, bribe him?”

“Didn’t have to. I told him I really needed you. That you were perfect for the kind of help I was looking for.” His face grew serious as he thought about that. “He tried to tell me to forget  it. That you wouldn’t be interested. That you didn’t work that way. You were a solo artist, original work, and all that. He told me you had other things going on.”

“All true.”

“So why did you agree to come?”

“Stevie asked me to.” That was her biggest reason. “But I wanted to give something back to my community, too. I haven’t done that before.”

“UCLA—you said you were a guest speaker in their writer’s program.”

“I don’t know how successful that was. I wanted to inspire, but I don’t think anyone wanted to hear about
how hard work and marginal living conditions are part of the journey to success.”

“Did you want
to hear that when you were first starting out?”

“No.
But it’s the reality. For most of us.”

“I think, other than talent, the common denominator with all the success stories
is determination. We never gave up.”

That was probably her strongest character trait and the one she relied on most to get her where she wanted to be. “That’s probably more important than talent.”

“Agreed. I can think of several examples of mediocre work that reached the top.”

“And many examples of greatness that waited far too long to see the light.”

“And usually dragged into the light by someone other than the original artist.”

“True.”

“So, why are you giving up, Shae?”

That made
her pause. And though his words were soft, they were no less an accusation.

“What are you talking about?”

“You want that partnership. The kind of love your parents have,” he prompted. “But you’re settling for less.”

“Because I’m having the baby first?”

“Is that the way you look at it? You think the relationship will come later?”

“I hope it will.”

“So in the meantime, you check off a few boxes, place your order, and nine months later you have a baby?”

“It’s done a lot more than you think.”

“I know. It just seems out of character for you—to give up, I mean.”                           

“I told you, I tried. I’d hoped to get married. .
.”

“Really? I’ve heard about one relationship.
That’s not a whole lot of trying.”

“Who are you, Dear Sally?”

“I’m prying,” he admitted but didn’t seem to care. “But you’re doing more than that in my life.”

“At your invitation.” She heard t
he outrage building in her tone.

“Have you spoken with anyone about this?
” he continued. “Gotten any feedback from friends or family?”

“This is a personal decision.”

“And monumental,” he agreed. “Not something you should go into without thinking about all the implications.”

“Such as?” She felt overheated and was sure color had risen to her cheeks. And, belatedly, she realized she’d just invited him into the most private area of her life.