Chapter Seven
Seth stared at his Google calendar and cringed. It was completely blank. Blank for the next three months. The movie he had been booked to do had suddenly been postponed a year. Such postponements weren’t uncommon in Hollywood, but often it was a sign of other problems with the film. The delay gave him an out in his contract, if he wanted it. He’d have to look more into the situation before he made a decision.
Meanwhile, his calendar was empty. First thing on his day’s agenda was to find a project to work on. Not that he needed the money, but he didn’t enjoy being idle. He’d been idle the two days since the 24-Hour Plays ended and was already about to go insane. All he could think about was Heather Wainwright.
Figuring out what to do about Heather was the second thing on the day’s agenda. He’d known she was a big barrel of badness from the beginning, and he wasn’t changing his mind about that theory. But since he’d had a taste of her, both in the literal and figurative sense, he had to have more, barrel of badness or not. She was like a good malt beer—he shouldn’t have as much as he wanted, but he could rarely stop after only one glass. Everything about her turned him on: her eyes, her breasts, her silky skin, her pouty lips. Just thinking about her gave him a giant hard-on. A giant hard-on that had been impossible to relieve no matter how guilty he felt for taking advantage of her drunken state or how many times he stroked himself.
What sort of magic spell did this woman weave?
Even her stuck-up attitude, which had initially been a turn-off, had become one of the things that made him hornier than hell. The sass that came out of her lovely mouth… He never knew what to expect next, half of her words making his hand itch with the need to spank, the other half making his cock twitch with the need to bury inside her. A fair amount of what she said made him want to do both.
Yes, he’d have to find a way to see her again. And soon.
After he worked out how to see her again, he’d have a big decision to make. Tell her the truth about his career or continue to let her think he worked in Hollywood as a carpenter?
He glanced over at Erica’s sketch of his favorite spot in the San Gabriel Mountains that he had pinned on a bulletin board above his desk, the only remnant of his time with her. He should’ve thrown it out ages ago, seeing how it always brought up a painful ache when he looked at it. But, besides the fact it was a damn good piece of art, it served as a reminder of a dream he hadn’t yet fulfilled. One day he intended to build a cabin on that land. It was supposed to have happened with Erica. Now…
Now the plan had to wait. He couldn’t even think about it. Not while the sketch still held so many memories of his past, promises of a future that didn’t come to fruition.
He closed his eyes and let thoughts of her settle on him. Erica. She’d been an artist—a painter mostly—that he’d hired for a film he’d designed. It wasn’t love at first sight, but their feelings developed pretty quickly. He’d thought at first that her interest in him might be solely based on the fact that he was her boss—that he could get her places. Then they grew closer, eventually moving in together. Finally, he proposed.
He hadn’t set out to hide his past from her—it just never came up. How did you tell a woman that your father was in jail? That you had your own juvie record? He didn’t like to talk about it back then, so he didn’t share it with her. After they were engaged, and they began working on guest lists for the wedding and she wanted to know whether to include his parents, well, he had to tell her.
And she’d left. Because, as she had said, “Children follow in their father’s footsteps. How could I possibly have children with you?”
Funny, he thought he’d turned out pretty damn fine.
But he wasn’t going to hide his past from a woman again. It was who he was, what made him. Maybe he was going too far in hiding his present from Heather, but he didn’t trust as easily as he used to. His trust had to be earned.
Okay, maybe he was making excuses for himself, but he never said he was perfect.
His cell phone rang and he didn’t hesitate to grab it from the corner of his desk. He deflated when he looked at the caller ID. Joe Piedman. Not Heather. He’d suspected that she wouldn’t call him, but he still hoped, jumping every time his phone rang, and swallowing the disappointment when he realized it wasn't her.
Though he was disappointed this time too, a call from Joe might help him with his empty calendar. A fellow project designer, Joe was a good friend as well as a colleague. Often they’d throw work each other’s way when one of them was too busy to take a great offer. Hopefully that was why Joe was calling now.
“Joe, just the guy I wanted to hear from.”
“Oh, really?”
“I’m hoping you have a line on a job. I have a hole in my calendar.”
Joe chuckled. “That’s too bad. Something fell through?”
“Postponed. It’s a downer, but what can you do?”
“Just go with the flow,” Joe said. “Well, I do have a job, but not for you. Maybe you know someone who can fill it for me?”
Damn. Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. Back to square one on the job front. “What’s up?”
“I just took over as Production Designer on this film midway through pre-production. They had this guy before who completely screwed the whole job. Missed all his deadlines, hired flakes—I hear he had a coke problem, but that’s gossip so don’t go spreading that around. Anyway, they fired him, pushed out the schedule a few weeks and I took over, and what do you know? The lead carpenter was friends with the guy. He took his crew and bailed the minute he found out his bud got fired. So now I have a film that starts shooting in two weeks, no carpenter, no crew. My usual guys are already tied up. Do you have anyone you can recommend?”
Seth worked with a couple of crews on a regular basis that he suspected were probably free. The one he recommended to Joe would depend on the scope of the work. “What’s the movie?”
“Working title is Girl Fight. It’s a comedy. Don Frazier is directing. Stars Natalia Lowen and Heather Wainwright as these chicks fighting over a guy. Almost one hundred percent on soundstage so the—”
Joe kept talking but Seth’s brain was stuck back on the name Heather Wainwright. Instantly, he knew what he could do. What he shouldn’t do, but why shouldn’t he? He’d been lead carpenter on sets before, after all, and had been damn good at it, if he did say so himself. Getting a crew together shouldn’t be a problem. And his calendar was open.
Did it make him borderline creepy? Yeah, maybe. But he’d never claimed he was a saint.
“Joe,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. “I think I may have the guy for you.”
“Hey, Heather!”
Heather looked behind her as she walked through the sound studio toward her trailer and saw her costar Natalia jogging after her. Heather halted until Nat caught up.
“How do you think today went?” Nat’s bright blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
Heather shrugged. “I’ve had worse first days.” How long had it been since she’d been excited about a first day on set? She couldn’t even remember.
“Totally.” Natalia twirled a strand of her recently dyed blonde hair around her finger. “But the scenes went well, don’t you think?”
Seriously? They were going to discuss the shoot like a bunch of amateurs? “Yeah, they went fine.” They’d been better than fine considering how preoccupied Heather had been all day. How preoccupied she’d been for the past two weeks. Every time she had a moment to think, her thoughts wandered to her belly and what might or might not be growing inside. She was hyper-focused on her body, wondering if every minor breast pain or belly cramp was proof that a pee test would scream positive.
When she wasn’t thinking about her possible pregnancy, she was thinking about the cause of that possible pregnancy. Seth Rafferty had gone from someone she wanted nothing to do with to someone who might be a very big part of her life. And she wasn’t that upset about it. In fact, she wanted to see him again. So much so that she’d even considered calling him. Many times.
But what would she say if she talked to him? Did you use a condom when you screwed me ’cause I might be pregnant just didn’t seem like a conversation to have over the phone. The other things she could say to him—Can I see you again? Do you even want to? Those things took more courage to say. More courage than she had.
Yep, secret was out: Heather Wainwright was a big fat chicken.
So she hadn’t called him, leaving her distracted by him at the most inconvenient times. Like in the middle of filming.
And now, when she should be paying attention to her costar.
She glanced at Natalia out of the corner of her eye and noticed she seemed deflated. Shit. She’d wanted reassurance and Heather hadn’t given it. Sometimes she forgot that she was the old pro in the biz, that other people wanted her approval.
She pulled out her best smile for her costar. “Today was good, actually. You did good. Really good.”
“Thanks.” Nat beamed at the compliment.
Then she continued past her own trailer, following Heather to hers. Dammit.
Problem with being nice was people mistook it for friendship. All Heather wanted was to get into her trailer, change out of her costume, and get in a hot shower. Nat, on the other hand, wanted to be buddy-buddy. She leaned against Heather’s trailer, making herself comfy. “That’s too bad about the old Production Designer. But the new P.D. seems to be on the ball. My camera tests were really well organized.”
Don’t be a bitch, Heather told herself. It won’t kill you to be friendly. “Yeah, mine too. I’ve worked with Piedmont before. He has his shit together.”
Anyone who knew Heather and Natalia personally would laugh at the characters they’d been cast. Natalia’s personality more closely fit the sweet girl-next-door that Heather was playing. Heather’s diva reputation matched Natalia’s snotty character to a tee. Sometimes Heather found herself wishing she was more like Nat in real life—nice, kind, genuine. But that would require knocking down a bunch of walls and letting people in. How did Nat do that? Remain so unguarded and unaffected while working in Hollywood. She was a lot newer to the biz than Heather was. Perhaps that was it.
“It must be nice to be back on a sound stage after your last film. Weren’t you out in the mountains?”
Heather’s last film had been a modern day western, most of it shot near Golden, Colorado. She’d hated nearly every minute of it. The city had been so small that there’d been nothing to do off set. She’d been lonely. Collin hadn’t visited at all. Lexie had taken the shoot off to help her mother through breast cancer treatments. Then, when she’d turned to her costar, Micah Preston, for comfort in the carnal sense, he’d brushed her off.
Of course, a week after the 24-Hour Plays, she’d discovered with the rest of the world that he’d had his eye on someone else during that shoot. He’d announced his love for her on America’s Choice Awards, of all places. So it wasn’t like a real rejection when he’d blown off Heather. He’d simply been taken. Still, thinking about it stung, so she shook it off and focused on the question Nat had asked. “It’s so much nicer to be shooting in a studio instead of on location.” She couldn’t remember, or didn’t know rather, if Nat had ever shot anywhere but on a set so she added, “Location gets old fast. It’s lonely and lacks amenities.”
Nat nodded again. She nodded so often and so enthusiastically Heather decided to nickname her Bobblehead. In her head, of course. She’d never say it to Nat’s face.
Also in her head she imagined smacking herself for her constant rude inner-dialogue.
“Our set looks awesome too,” Bobblehead said, unaware of the less-than-nice thoughts running through Heather’s mind. “I can’t believe they built it under pressure. And the crew…” Natalia leaned in, lowering her voice. “There’s at least one hottie.”
“You mean a carpenter?” Did her nipples just perk up at the thought of a hot carpenter? Down girls—fat chance it’s Seth.
“I don’t know. Whatever they call those guys with all the tools.”
Normally Heather would have made some snarky comment about Nat’s naiveté, at least to herself, but the idea that it could be Seth had her distracted, scanning the set behind them for anyone that might be a carpenter. She spotted someone with a tool belt. Not Seth. Not really hot either, but maybe Nat’s thing was the uniform, not the actual man. Heather nodded her head toward him. “That guy?”
Natalia nodded her head in another direction. “That one.”
Heather followed her gaze.
And nearly peed.
Was loss of bladder control an early sign of pregnancy? Or was it just a sign of pure and utter shock at realizing the hot carpenter was her hot carpenter?
She didn’t mean to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. He looked even yummier than he had at the Broad Stage—he hadn’t worn a belt then, she hadn’t gotten to see him use his tools. Now, he stood behind a set piece, securing a loose board with a nail gun. Why the sight had her rubbing her legs together like a cricket singing a lullaby, she had no idea.
And as if he could hear her cricket song, he turned his head and stared directly at her, his eyes nailing her across the distance as efficiently as he’d nailed his set piece. Even if she wanted to look away, she couldn’t. She was glued to him, the world seeming to disappear around them as his lips slowly curled into a sexy grin.
Then he was walking toward them, closing the space between them with sure-footed steps that exuded nothing but pure male confidence. She was heady from his stride alone. When he was near enough for her to catch his scent, her knees wobbled. Holy shit, what the man did to her…
Natalia’s eyes flitted back and forth from Seth to Heather. “He’s coming over here,” she whispered with an excitement that made Heather oddly pissy.
“Yeah, I know him.” She meant her words to claim him. Though she was in no way with Seth, it didn’t make him free game to anyone else. As if that made any sense.
“Lucky,” Nat said under her breath as Seth reached them.
He crossed his arms over his chest—had his arms always been that buff? It was sort of disgusting in a totally hot way. “Heather,” he said with a nod.
Did the sound of his voice turn everyone to jelly or just her?
“Seth. Fancy seeing you here.” Her voice was terse, but his smile widened anyway, increasing her pissyness. Why was he here? On her set. And why did it make her so damn unsettled?
“I don’t think anyone’s ever said fancy in reference to me before.”
“I imagine they haven’t.” In direct contrast to Heather’s acerbic tone, Natalia’s dripped with sugar and honey and all those sweet girly things that a woman put in her voice when interested in a guy.
Heather didn’t hide her eye roll. “Seth, this is Natalia Lowen.” As she made the introduction, Heather felt a sharp pain to the chest that she didn’t quite recognize. Maybe it was indigestion. Didn’t pregnant women get all sorts of heartburn?
Seth took Nat’s outstretched hand. “I know who you are, Natalia.”
Heather wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up from the sudden chill that passed through her coincidentally at the same moment that Seth’s gaze had left her for Nat.
“You do? I’m flattered…Seth, was it?” Did Nat just thrust out her chest? Oh God. She was already buxom. She didn’t need to thrust to flaunt it.
“Yeah. Seth Rafferty.” He winked at the young actress. “Nice to meet such a wonderful up and coming star.”
Nat blushed.
But before Natalia could respond with an equally flirtatious line, Heather cut in. “I’m going in my trailer. Interesting seeing you again, Seth. Nat, see you tomorrow.”
Heather opened the door to her trailer and climbed the stairs, forcing herself to not look back. And not to make too much from the fact that neither Seth nor Nat had acknowledged her departure. Inside, she quickly stripped out of her costume, stifling a scream of frustration that would surely be heard if they were still outside making eyes at each other.
What was with that anyway? Winking and smooth talking. Did Seth come on to every actress he met? He probably did. Isn’t that what any normal guy in his position would do? He was a tradesman working around beautiful rich women. A hot tradesman who turned Heather into a big doughy pretzel on the inside.
But that was beside the point. The point was she wasn’t special to him. That was fine. Seth wasn’t special to her either. Not in the least.
Except, if she had his baby…
Fuck it. She wasn’t thinking about that anymore. She’d deal with that if it turned out she was pregnant, not before.
She stripped down to her underwear then wrapped her silk robe around her, knotting the belt. Then she gathered her costume up to hang outside her trailer. If she didn’t, a costume assistant would likely come by knocking on her door while she was in the shower.
Or maybe that was just an excuse to see if Seth and Nat were still outside getting friendly.
She opened her door and found them where she’d left them. Neither of them looked up as she hung her costume on her door. They simply continued giggling and winking. Well, Nat was giggling, twirling her hair around her finger while Seth winked and nodded.
It was gross. Like, make Heather puke kind of gross.
Also, it made her indigestion worse, or whatever that sharp pain in her chest was.
And before Seth went spreading his seed with her costar, he should probably know about the seed he’d possibly implanted in her. Yes, she’d decided she wasn’t going to think about the pregnancy prospect, but she had a right to change her mind. It was a service to her fellow actress. Besides, she still hadn’t figured out why he was there. It seemed like a rather odd coinky-dink.
Without a second thought, she said, “Seth, can I talk to you?”
“Sure.” He didn’t move.
“In private.” She gestured inside her trailer behind her.
“I need to get changed, anyway,” Natalia said. “See you around, I hope.”
“I’m sure you will,” Seth said and an unexpected urge to kick him in the nuts washed over Heather.
She stepped inside and out of his way, holding the door open so he could walk past her.
“If you wanted me in your trailer, Heather, you know all you had to do was ask.”
She let the door slam, ignoring how giddy it made her to hear her name on his lips and paced back and forth a few times before turning and leveling a stare at him. “What are you doing here, Seth?”
“You said you needed to talk.” He leaned against the counter across from her as if he felt completely comfortable in her private space.
“I mean, on the set of this movie.” She forced herself to keep her eyes on his face and not on his thighs bulging through his tight jeans. His fucking gorgeous thighs.
“Working, princess. Just like you.”
And just as she’d been giddy at him saying her name, the return of his god-awful nickname for her made her slaphappy like a drunken teenager. She refused to let him see his effect on her, though, and kept focused. “But on my movie? That can’t be a coincidence.”
“It can’t?” Seth scratched behind his neck. “Hollywood isn’t really that big of a town.”
Of course he’d evade her. Like always. Talking to Seth was like playing a game of Ring around the Rosie. He liked to force her to be blunt. “I’m just going to come right out and ask—are you stalking me?”
“Stalking you? God, I forgot how high and mighty you were.”
“It’s a reasonable question.” Had he averted his eyes when he answered? Maybe that was her imagination. “Look, I’ve never seen you before in my life and suddenly you’re everywhere.”
“I’m not everywhere. Add drama queen to your list of personality traits.”
“Whatever.”
“If that’s all…” He straightened.
“No, wait. That’s not all.”
“What?”
“I have something to… Did you…I mean…” She stumbled over her words. As many times as she’d practiced this conversation, none of her lines seemed right. She put a hand to each temple and closed her eyes. “I wasn’t on birth control,” she spat out. She opened her eyes slightly, peering at him like she’d peer at a bad accident—not wanting to see, but needing to all the same.
“Okay.” Seth drew the two short syllables out, as if he didn’t know how to react to her statement.
“That night. At the hotel.” Was he purposefully making this difficult?
He nodded once, leaning back onto the counter. “I figured that’s what you meant.” His hand came up to rub his chin, which was stubbly from a long day on set. “What I can’t figure out is why you’re telling me.”
“Are you kidding me?” He was purposefully making this more difficult. He had to be. But if he wanted her to spell it out for him, she could do that and still keep her head high. Maybe.
“Seth, when a woman isn’t on birth control, other precautionary measures are needed.” She spoke slowly, as if explaining to a child. When he still registered no understanding on his face, she rolled her eyes. “I’m asking if other measures were taken.”
Seth laughed. A deep belly laugh that Heather felt vibrate in the center of her womb. Her face flushed, partly from embarrassment, partly from frustration. Partly from desire. God, this man was such an incredible ass. She’d been worrying and fretting about being pregnant for two plus weeks and here he was laughing at her.
And her stupid body couldn’t respond in any way but to want him.
Dammit, Seth had made her life such an incredible nightmare. If he wasn’t going to answer her, was just going to laugh at her, then she wanted him to go. Then she could cry out her humiliation in private.
She opened her mouth to tell him to leave, but he spoke before she could. “I shouldn’t be laughing.”
Relief swept through her. Thank God, he had a decent bone in his body.
He frowned. “I should be offended.” Her brows rose in startled confusion. “I just don’t know if I’m more offended that you think I wouldn’t use a condom or that you think we had sex that you can’t remember.” Before she even had time to register what he was saying, he backed her up against the stainless steel refrigerator, caging her with his body. His voice was gravelly, his breath hot on her face. “Because if we did fuck, princess, you’d remember.”
Her mouth fell open as she tried to sort out what he meant. “But I remember…”
“Yes, I went down on you.” His eyes darkened. “And you enjoyed it. And it was incredibly beautiful. Then I left.”
He left. Huh.
A sickening feeling rolled through her as she realized he hadn’t even tried to get on her.
“I left because I’d had too much to drink and you were passed out. Not because I wasn’t interested. I was trying not to be a total douche.”
She licked her lips. “But you were interested, though.” Why did she even give a shit? She should be celebrating her not-a-chance-she-was-pregnant status and move on. Instead, she was practically begging for him to validate his attraction to her.
“I left frustrated and hard as fuck. About as hard as I am now.” He pressed his body against hers, demonstrating his state of hardness.
She let out a moan. She hadn’t realized how much she’d yearned for that contact, to feel him and his desire tight against her. It was both heavenly and aggravating all at once. Like scratching at an itch that could never quite be satisfied. If he kissed her, that would help. She looked up at him, pleading silently for his lips.
He bent closer but stopped just inches from her mouth. “Frankly, princess, I’m frustrated now for other reasons too. I gave you my number. You thought you could be pregnant. Why didn’t you call me?”
She had no idea how to answer, her brain barely working with him so close to her. She struggled to form words. “I…don’t know.”
“Because you’re stubborn, that’s why.” He circled her nose with his own. “Maddeningly stubborn. You know what I think might help cure you of that?”
“What?” It came out as a whisper, anticipation stealing her voice.
“A good old-fashioned spanking.”