Explore Her, More of Her (13 page)

Anton drives slowly past the production van. “Over there.”
 

Dexter and Kristin are standing on the sidewalk. She’s shaking her arms, visibly upset. Dexter’s hands are on his waist, and he’s looking at the ground, taking the tongue-lashing. She says something, and Dexter turns to glare curiously at Anton and me.
 

“Lovers’ quarrel?” Anton says.
 

I’ve never pictured Dexter and Kristin as a couple. She has a fiancé, I think. I always got her situation confused with the other women on the production team. If they spoke less about their personal situations, then maybe I would be able to differentiate. It was always this boyfriend, that boyfriend, his mother, his job, our honeymoon, we this or we that… after a while, I stopped absorbing whatever they were discussing that wasn’t work related. But Dexter and Kristin? No way. She’s the barn house in Kansas, and Dexter has just stepped on the yellow brick road. I may not be his happily ever after, but Kristin isn’t either.

“They just work together,” I say.

“That is how it starts.”

I squish my face. “She’s not his type.”

“Then you are Blue Eyes’s type?” Anton asks.

“No,” I say, sounding defensive. “Not
me
but someone like me would be his type.”

“And what are you like, Daisy?” Anton asks as he approaches an old barn that has been converted into a garage.

So this is where Anton parks his car. The door is already open, and he drives in.
 

“I’m not like her.”

“And how is she?” he asks.

“Kristin is the woman you get stuck with in the rut. Dexter is the kind of man who doesn’t want to be stuck in the rut.” I lift a finger. “My husband, however, is the kind of man who wants me to stay in the rut with him. Unfortunately, it’s him I love and not Dexter.”

“Ah, your husband…”

Something in his tone makes me look at him askew. “What did he do?”

Anton seems hesitant, but he gets out of the car and leans on the hood. I follow suit. Our faces are close, as if he’s on the verge of spilling a juicy secret.

“He was curious about our night. I think he thought possibly we could have made love.” He grins as if I should know what he’s thinking.

Indeed I do. “It’s not that he’s jealous. He just hasn’t figured me out yet.”

Anton gives me a doubtful look.

“Well… he’s a little jealous.”

“He is more than a little jealous.” Anton looks at Dexter, who peeks around the corner. “You are lost?”
 

Dexter steps into full view. “No, I’m not. I need to speak to Daisy.”

Anton looks at me with raised eyebrows. “I see you later.”
 

He walks off, although he keeps looking back as though he doesn’t trust Dexter and I to be alone. But finally we are alone. All I can think about is what Anton said about Dexter and Kristin. Are they a couple?
 

Dexter holds up his cell phone. “I got a call from Gill Abbott today.” He doesn’t look as if it were a good call.

“Oh?” I say.

“Production has been canceled in France. We have to fly back tomorrow—bright and early. But here’s where it gets odd, Daisy... we’ve been green-lit to shoot not only four but ten episodes in the U.S. anywhere we want. That’s a full fucking season! You know Gil has been pinching us for every dollar. Suddenly we have a bottomless budget, but not for France. Why is that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think your husband had something to do with it. Because I’m here, and he’s somewhere in the goddamn USA, probably chasing tail!”
                                     

“Chasing tail? The only tail he’s chasing is mine. He’s here in Bordeaux. I saw him today,” I say.

“Then fuck! I was right!” He sounds as if he’s whining about it.

“Not about the chasing tail part or about him being in the U.S. So what were you right about?” I’m ticked off. I don’t appreciate him describing Belmont as a womanizer.
 

“He’s fucking with our production.”

I sigh and slump my shoulders. “Dexter, I’m exhausted, and I still have a party to attend.”

Dexter throws up his hands. “That’s it? You’re just going to let him do that to us?”

“What do you want from me?”

“You know I’d be happy as fuck if Gil had increased our budget on his own.”

“Then pretend he did.”

Dexter flinches and studies my nonchalance. “You’re okay with him messing with our gig because he’s jealous? I heard what your cousin said, and Jack’s not a little jealous. He’s a
lot
jealous.”

“Look, if Belmont had anything to do with shutting down your production in Bordeaux, then I’m sorry. But you are at my father’s chateau because I’m here. You know he doesn’t think you’re here simply because you appreciate my professional point of view, and neither do I.”

Dexter looks me in the eyes. He releases a long sigh. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”

I frown.

“I wish I would’ve met you first,” he says.

“Dexter—”

He raises a hand. “It’s okay. No need to crush my ego any more than you already have.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I say. “I thought we were really good friends. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” He turns around to look over the land. “We got some good stuff on video today.”

I step up next to him. “Kristin must be pissed that you have to scrap the work you put in so far.”

Dexter nods emphatically. “Oh yes, she is, but she’s always pissed off about something.”

I sigh long and hard. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this…”

Dexter widens his eyes excitedly. “Are you coming back to work with us?”

“Ha… no.”

“Okay, but one question?”

I look at him askew. “What?”

“If it wasn’t for him, would you have joined us in Provence?”

“Truth?”

“Truth.”

“Probably for a little while,” I say.

“A little while is all I needed.” Mr. Blue Eyes is flirting with me again.
 

“I’m sorry, but Kristin called it all along. She never thought I was serious about the job.”

He shakes his head with a tiny eye roll. “That’s not it. She doesn’t like you because you’re hot and your husband’s rich. If she could switch places with you, she’d do it in a minute.”

Wow, maybe Anton was right. “Sounds like trouble in paradise.”
 

He’s taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Are you and Kristin…?” I lift my eyebrows.

“Hell no, and that’s the truth. I wouldn’t want someone like her influencing my daughters. You on the other hand…” He grunts. “Shit! They were supposed to fly out next week and spend the month here with me. I have to cancel their flights and the nannies.’” Dexter squeezes his head and shouts, “Fuck!”
 

I pat his shoulder, and he takes my hand.
 

“Don’t touch me if you can’t go further.” There’s passion in his eyes.

I remove my hand. “I was going to say that we can change Belmont’s mind and you can keep whatever money he banked in your budget, but you have to promise to leave first thing in the morning, and we can’t be friends. This has to be where we end.”

Dexter studies me as he scratches the back of his neck. We both know there’s only one thing to say, but I give him the time he needs to come to grips with the truth—after all, I’m the one he can’t have. That’s never easy for a man to accept.

“All right.” There’s a hint of reluctance in his tone, but it’s not enough to vanquish his reason.

“Then come to the party tonight,” I say.
 

“What party?”

“Belmont’s party.”

“Ugh…” Dexter rolls his eyes and bobbles his shoulders. He recovers. “Okay, but since we’re going to finish shooting in France with our bottomless budget, can you come with me to the van and take a look at our footage? I want to know what you think about Whistler. I think he’s a tool. Maybe I should get in front of the fucking camera and do it my fucking self.”

I slap his back. “Now that’s the best idea you’ve had yet.”

Dexter and I spend an hour going through the footage. He was right—Scott Whistler is a tool and should be replaced by the blue-eyed sexpot beside me. Whistler performs as if a canoe ride down the La Dordogne is a raft ride down the Amazon River with piranhas plucking at the bottom. I laugh during all the shots in the Lascaux Caves. Whistler speaks as if they’re trapped with no oxygen and he has to search for a way out or else.

“Scrap it all. Go to Provence and follow the shooting script,” I say. “I mean, what happened to all the interviews we set up?”

“Half of them fell through without you.”

“Then convince them to deal with you. Come on, Dexter, use your power of persuasion.”

He snorts. “Yeah…”

“This is your career, for goodness sakes. Live up to your reputation.”

He stares at the table, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re right. I guess all that’s left for you to do is work your wiles on your husband.”

I chuckle. We lock gazes. Dexter holds out his hand, and I put my palm on top of his. He kisses the back of my hand. His lips are so soft, just as they were when we kissed. It’s our way of saying good-bye.

I head back to my cottage to get dressed. I think I see Melissa, the receptionist, swimming in the pool. She’s one of the last people in the world that I want to see. Inside, I’m dancing a happy jig that Dexter and his crew will be out of here before sunup.
 

I walk into my cottage and remember that I left my dress in the car when I see it spread out on the sofa. Anton must’ve put it there. I smile. I love this little place. My eyes gravitate to the table and the fresh plate of cheese and bread Inés has placed on it. I don’t mind putting on a few pounds if the culprit is chévre cheese. I pull off my tank top on the way to the table and unclip my bra.

“Just the way I want you,” a familiar voice says.

I jump and spin around. Belmont has just walked through the door.
 

“What are you doing here?” My heart is beating fast. He walks toward me, and my legs turn to mush.
 

Belmont stops in front of me. “You like this little house?” His gaze rolls around the kitchen and living room.

“A lot,” I whisper. I want him to just grab my tit and squeeze it. I want his hands all over me.

“You like that cheese and bread?”

I swallow what’s in my mouth. “Um-hum.”

He grins. “Have you been eating a lot?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not pregnant.”

He chuckles. My expression matches his flirtatious expression.
 

“So if I can’t control myself and we end up having a one-night stand, this is where you’ll bring me?” he asks.

“I’m not the kind of girl who takes a man home on the first night.”

“Been there, done that with a woman who looks, feels and…” He kisses me tenderly. “Tastes a lot like you—and cheese.”

I chuckle and drop my face bashfully. His bulge is pressed against me already. I’m so ready for whatever he wants. We can skip the party. He can stretch me out on the couch, part my legs, and slam his dick inside me. He can eat my slit until I scream for reprieve.
 

I’m so very disappointed when he lets out a deflated sigh and takes one giant step back. I do something I’ve never done—I step close to him again and massage his rock-hard cock. Belmont sips air as he removes my hand.
 

“I’ll see you later, baby.” Belmont kisses my cheek and pinches my nipple before backing away.
 

I watch him longingly as he moves through the living room and out the door. I cross my legs, push out my hip, and wait. When Belmont returns, he’ll find me in a sexy pose. The seconds tick by. I feel stupid standing here topless and alone. I rush to the window and look out. There’s no sign of Belmont. He’s gone! I can hardly believe he left me wanting. I guess it’s true—there
is
a first time for everything.
 

I swap the bath for a long hot shower. I wash my hair with some sweet jasmine shampoo. It’s the same brand as the bubble bath. By the end of the shower, my skin and hair are soft. I dress my face with the makeup Angelina packed for me. The red dress fits like Marilyn Monroe’s gloves, hugging my curves. I slide my hands down my hip, up my waist, then puff up my rack. Someone knocks on the door as I tie my black sandals.

“It’s open,” I call as I sashay into the living room.

Anton walks in and raises his eyebrows. “You look magnificent.”
 

“
Également
. Likewise,” I say.
 

He’s wearing a lightweight black V-neck, sleeveless sweater with nicely fitting black Bermuda shorts. I like his shoes. They’re the same kind of black leather tennis shoes Belmont often wears. Anton’s hair is out of its ponytail, and it’s long and wavy. I hadn’t realized how supremely attractive he is until now.
 

“Your French is very bad,” he says.

I look around the room to make sure I’m not leaving anything. “And still I try.”

“There is no need. Your English is much better.”

I snicker. “Does my hacking of your language offend you?”

“Not at all. But I like your English. I want to hear you at your best.”

“All right then, English it is.” I give the room a final once-over. I feel as if I’m leaving something behind. I don’t need my purse or my cell phone or keys. I don’t need to take anything but myself! “I’m ready.”

Anton and I flow into the night. Dexter and his team, including Kristin, Damien, and Braden, are waiting for us under the pavilion. Red, green, blue, and yellow lights streak across them. Jacques must have installed special-effect lighting in the roof. Oh, and my eyes did not deceive me—Melissa is with them. She notices me and whispers something to Kristin, then she wrinkles her nose as she shakes her head. At least she had the wherewithal to not look at me while she did that. I swear, I’ve never met such a bunch of catty women. Leaving them in the past is definitely one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.