High Risk Love (6 page)

I shook my head, a nervous laugh sneaking out of me. “Okay. Well. Goodnight.” Turning away from him, I called over my shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow. At ten.”

He jogged to my side, and then got in front of me and started to walk backward. “I should probably walk you to your hotel, unless it’s too far to walk, in which case I will do the gentlemanly thing—which let me tell you does not come easy to me—and I will call you a cab.” His lips curled up and he gave me a wink. The same kind of wink Hugh had given me, but this time my palms started to sweat, and I had the ridiculous, out-of-control urge to touch the corners of his mouth and feel him smile against my skin. Still bad, a very bad idea.

That wasn’t the worst of it. I don’t know how he knew I was thinking about his mouth, but his eyes suddenly dipped to
my
mouth and I couldn’t stop the catch in my breathing. He stopped, forcing me to stop or run into him.

“Then again, my hotel is right over there,” he said, though he didn’t take his eyes from me, didn’t even touch me, his words seemed to force my heart into overdrive.

“Very close. I think you’d like it. Bright blinding fiesta colors you can’t even see once the lights are out.”

Then he did reach out and ran one finger along the edge of my jaw, sliding over my slightly parted lips, pinching the bottom one; he pulled lightly on it. I surprised myself by letting him. “Jasmin.” My name on his lips was nearly my undoing. Nearly.

I couldn’t take my eyes off his face, the shape of his jaw, the slight shadow of stubble across his chin and cheeks. I fought against the rush of anticipation and heat pooling between my legs.

“Can I . . .” I managed to get out, my brain unable to put the words I needed together in a full sentence.

“You can have anything you want,” he said, closing the distance between us, his head lowering, hands shifting to my waist, pressing into the curve there as he pulled me against the heat of his body. The feel of his hard planes against me stole what was left of my words. I had to stop this. Now.

I stepped back, half stumbling away from him, and pulled my camera up, taking four shots in quick succession, stuttering over my words, but getting them out and between us. “This dusky light is actually really good for pictures. You sure you don’t mind me getting started now?”

He seemed, to say the least, confused. That wasn’t what made me smile though—it was how obvious his disappointment was. Most guys would hide it, pretend that they hadn’t just been rejected. Not Jet. No, he just barreled into it.

He frowned, and put his hands on his hips. “You mean that you aren’t coming with me to my hotel?”

I snapped another picture and laughed at him, feeling something shift inside of me. “No.”

“That little back and forth didn’t turn you on?”

Now I had to lie, but I was still smiling. “No.”

He made an exaggerated moue with his lips, almost like he was begging for a kiss, and his eyebrows lowered as he frowned; I got a picture of it, and then checked the digital shot. Oh my God. It should have been silly, but it looked like a little boy who’d been denied his favorite toy. I lifted my eyes to his and he gave me a slow smile, the corner of his mouth lifting in a curve I wanted to follow with my lips. I had to get out of here before I did something stupid, before I forgot that this was an assignment. A job. Jet was a job and I had to treat him like that.

Change the subject. Quickly. “Besides, won’t your girlfriend be upset that you are being so . . . attentive to me?”

“Hell, I don’t have a girlfriend. They are far too much trouble.” He gave me a quick smile, his lips twisting upward, eyes dancing with mischief.

“The blonde woman looking for you on your set sure seemed eager to find you. I thought that . . . .”

Jet was already shaking his hands in front of him, back and forth like he could erase my words. “That is
not
my girlfriend. That was a one night mistake I’m still paying for.”

Ouch. So much for changing the subject to something easier. Did he have a lot of one night stands? Not that it mattered to me. Not one bit.

I lowered my camera, pretended to check the shots, and started to walk, glancing over my shoulder at him. “So, tomorrow then. Good night.”

Jet jogged a few feet to catch up to me, and then slung an arm across my shoulders. I stiffened, and he whispered in my ear. “This is just for show. So the muggers don’t get you.”

“Right.” The warmth from his arms was trickling down through my body in a not unpleasant way. Just a week, this was just for a week. Who the hell was I kidding? How was I going to survive a week with this man? I thought about my job, about my barely-there bank account, thought about the house and the foreclosure, about having to sell Ryan’s car if I didn’t make the bill payments. Thought about Ryan and all the things he’d wanted and hadn’t been able to do, and here I was laughing and flirting with a man who should be the last one on my list to be in my life. He was an adrenaline junky and would probably be killed before he made it to thirty-five. My heart clenched at the thought. No, I wouldn’t do that to myself, wouldn’t willingly get tangled up with a man like this.

Couldn’t.

I pushed Jet’s arm off me, not unkindly, then turned to face him. My mom had always said honesty was the best policy. No better time than the present to test the theory.

“I think we need to lay out some ground rules. This is a game to you; I get it. But it’s my job, a job I will lose if there is even a hint of something between us.” I pleaded with him with my eyes and words. “Please. I need you to behave. I will take pictures, ask you a few questions, and then I’ll be gone and you can get back to your life.”

He sucked on the chipped tooth, and then slowly nodded. “I don’t like it. But if your job is at stake then I will be good.” He threw his hands into the air, and then spun to look at me, one eyebrow raised. “Are you sure?”

I wanted to laugh at him, he was over the top with his mannerisms and behavior, but that was a part of his charm. Damn, this was going to be a long week.

“Yes, I’m sure. And thank you.”

“I still have to walk you back to your hotel,” he said, holding his hand out as if to take mine. I laughed at him and shook my head. He forcibly laced his fingers with mine, the rough calluses on his hands bumping along my skin. “I can’t just let you go on your own. I can’t. Sorry. I’m sure somewhere in my contract there is something about being chivalrous to maidens. Besides, my mother taught me better than to let beautiful green-eyed girls wander about Mexico at night on their own.”

My hand was completely engulfed in his and I stared down at it, stuffing the feelings he so easily pulled up through my body, away. What was it about him that was affecting me so? Was it because he was so obviously wrong for me? No, that couldn’t be it; Hugh had flirted with me too and I hadn’t had this reaction.

Enough, I wasn’t going to analyze it anymore. I was just going to ignore this thing between us.

“Fine.” I said, one hand on my camera to still it from swinging. “But you don’t have to hold my hand. I’m not a child.”

A flash of something akin to fear flickered across his face, darted through his eyes. “I know that. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” His voice was sincere, his eyes soft with a tenderness that made the gold flecks deepen in color, even in this shadowed light. He ran his thumb over my hand, his eyes finding mine, the intensity in them making me catch my breath. “Let me make sure you’re safe.”

My heart clenched and my throat tightened, feeling the undercurrent of emotions rolling between us. I couldn’t identify them, didn’t know what was going on, but trusted, strangely, that he was telling me the truth. Trusting Jet was a bad idea, my brain seemed certain of it. He would hurt me; he would get hurt himself. Something bad would happen.

Jet gave my hand a squeeze and the moment passed, his eyes once more full of devilry. “I might even have to carry you at some point. Say, if you get weak in the knees, which is all too possible with you being this close to me. You wouldn’t be the first girl—”

“It would surprise me if I was,” I quipped, slipping my hand from his. Bringing the camera up again, I snapped a few more shots of him while he gaped at me.

“You are trouble, Jasmin Vargas,” he said, pointing a finger at me.

“And you aren’t used to women turning you down. Or making you behave,” I said, my finger clicking the camera off once more, holding the button just so in order to make it behave. If I didn’t, the thing would be sure to act up. That was just one more worry to add to my list—old camera breakdowns.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he laughed, bumping his shoulder into mine, putting me off balance.

He grabbed my arms, his hands massaging them lightly. “Easy there, you sure you didn’t have anything to drink?”

Laughing, I pushed his hands off me. “Enough. You said you’d behave!”

Still smiling to myself, I picked up my pace and headed toward my hotel. Jet moved to my side, though he didn’t try to take my hand again, nor did he try anything else. I was both happy and disappointed. Which was stupid. I know.

At the front stoop of my hotel, the awning sagging under the weight of years blocking the sun, I gave Jet a nod.

“Thanks for walking me home. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll be here in the morning, to escort you back to the set,” he smiled. “Just in case there are any early morning banditos around.”

I bit the inside of my lip. “Good night, Jethro. Again.”

He cringed, and that darkness that had flickered over his face earlier was back. “Please, don’t call me that.” His eyes sought mine, a haunting echo of pain in them. “Please.”

My breath caught at what I saw in those gold-flecked depths, at the hurt and the complete and total honesty. “Yeah, sure.”

He nodded, gave me a weak smile and turned away, calling lightly over his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Spitfire.”

Jet

I
sat in my hotel room, on the edge of my bed, buck naked and still too hot to sleep. The breeze blew in through the sliding glass door that led out onto the questionably safe balcony, but the night air did nothing to cool my skin.

Blame it on the heat or blame it on the small room and heavy blankets.

It wasn’t the nightmare, the memories I relived in my sleep. No, that was
not
why sweat slid down my spine, trickled down my chest and off my arms. I stood up, walked to the open door and looked out. The gulf was visible and the breeze off the ocean was good, headed straight in my direction.

Wide awake now, I let out a slow breath, bowed my chin to my chest and rubbed the back of my neck. Scars and secrets; I couldn’t escape either one.

Think about something else. Anything else.

“Jasmin.” I whispered her name. The scent of her lingered with me, a mixture of floral and earthy scents that had buried themselves in my brain. I thought back to the feeling of her hand in mine. Her small fingers in mine, curling up around my own, skin so soft—how many girls had I touched in my lifetime? I'd done far more than just held their hands and felt . . . nothing. Yet a simple touch and I’d immediately wanted more. Placing one hand on the edge of the doorway, I continued to stare out at the ocean as I thought about Jasmin, wondered if she was asleep now, or maybe she was awake like I was. Better yet, maybe she was thinking about me. I grinned, and then thought about that sweet Spitfire lying in bed, thinking about me, touching herself.

I let out a groan of torment as images assaulted me, like a movie I couldn’t, didn’t want to stop. Her hair would be spread out on a pillow, and she’d whisper my name as her fingers circled her moist wet center. Her other hand would find a nipple begging for attention, tugging on it lightly, she’d moan, her fingers speeding up as she stroked herself, faster, more frantic now. Her green eyes would dilate with lust, her body arching into her hand as the orgasm started to spin her out of control.

“Fuck,” I whispered, feeling out of control myself, my hand moving in a rhythm that wouldn’t take me long imagining her delicious tight—

The knock on the door snapped me out of my fantasy. “Who is it?” I barked, walking stiffly to the edge of the bed, scooping up my shorts and sliding them on though they were tented to the extreme.

“It’s Hugh.”

Grumbling, I stomped over to the door and snapped it open, glaring. “What now?”

Hugh smiled at me. “Got a girl in there to go with that raging hard on?”

I glared at him, frustration mounting. “No. Thanks for asking. What the hell do you want in the middle of the god damn night? Surely not a booty call?”

Hugh batted his eyes and softened his voice into a high-pitched lisping falsetto. “For you maybe . . . stud muffin.”

He snapped a fist out and punched my shoulder. “Duty calls. Rodney decided at the last minute to do your scene at night. Thinks it’ll look better with the explosion.”

I banged my head into the door frame. “Seriously?”

“Hey, it’s not like you’re leaving an unlucky lady behind.”

I took a swing at him that he dodged easily, again laughing at me. “Come on, man. Get your clothes on and cover your raging dick. Nobody wants to see that. Well, maybe Elise does.”

With a flick of my wrist, I slammed the door in his face, smothering his continued laughter.

“Stupid Rodney Asher and his stupid ideas.” I turned on the overhead light and yanked on my clothes one piece at a time, every brush against my erection bringing it hard and ready with the merest hint of attention. Yeah, this was going to go just fucking dandy.

Grumbling all the way to the movie set, I thought about Jasmin as I walked. I’d promised her I wouldn’t seduce her, and if her job was on the line then it was a valid point. But how the hell was I going to be around her when the mere thought of her made me literally want to take matters into my own hands?

And while I thought I’d seen desire in her eyes, she’d made it clear she didn’t want me. Who could blame her really? A smart girl like that, what the hell would she want with a stuntman? What did I have to offer a girl like her anyway? If she wasn’t trying to make it on the big screen, there was nothing I could give. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I could protect her—after all, I hadn’t even been able to protect myself and Jasper. And I couldn’t even offer her the things a girl like her deserved; my time was barely my own the way I flew from set to set. What kind of life was that?