Page 35 of California Waves

Mila ended the call, feeling relieved. Erin always helped her to make sense of things. But as she turned off the lamps in her home and made her way to bed, all she could think about was Hersch’s new mattress.

She could have helped him christen it tonight.

Chapter Eighteen

Hersch pounded down Scenic Drive, multimillion-dollar houses on his left and the ocean tormenting him on the right. He rounded the point, where beautiful sand stretched beneath him, and kids were playing, and people were picnicking, and a lifeguard tower was set up so lifeguards could keep an eye on the swimmers. It would be so easy to jog down those steps, run along the beach, and cool off in the water. Or it would have been so easy two years ago. Despite yesterday’s progress, he still didn’t feel confident about the water without Mila by his side. As hot as he was, he faced forward so that his view was asphalt rather than rolling ocean waves and the caramel-colored beach.

As he ran, Herschel couldn’t stop thinking about Mila. She had kissed him. So passionately it had almost knocked him over. Then she’d had to leave to go shopping? He’d barely slept all night thinking about her soft lips and her sexy body, and the way she made him feel like he could do anything. Anything! He had let himself succumb to her completely.

What had he been thinking? The truth was, he wasn’t a spontaneous man. He liked to think things through, and he’d always taken life seriously.

But maybe it was time to stop. He still held to his belief that he could never leave a woman he loved and a potential family behind while he did a dangerous job with no guarantee of a return. And if anyone ever needed proof of that, it was a guy who’d come within a hair’s breadth of drowning on his return from a mission.

However, Mila was both spontaneous and had been very clear that she wasn’t looking for marriage or commitments or ties. And maybe that made everything okay. Maybe if she could hold that attitude and get through her life perfectly well, he could too. Maybe he shouldn’t give up on her.

He knew one thing. He couldn’t keep going night after night dreaming of her beside him, especially now that he knew she was open to the idea of the two of them becoming intimate.

He ran faster than he should have, for longer than he’d intended, but at least he’d come to a decision.

He would have kept going if his phone hadn’t rung. He slowed to a halt, hoping it was Mila. But his screen showed a number he didn’t recognize.

“Herschel Greenfield,” he said.

“Herschel, it’s Jay Malone. The agent. What are you up to right now?”

Hersch grimaced. Hadn’t he made it very clear several times already that he wasn’t interested in having a movie made about his life?

“I’m out running,” Herschel replied.

“Ah, keeping fit. I like it,” Jay said. “Well, I hope you don’t mind me calling you out of the blue, but I’m at Archer Davenport’s place, and we wondered if you’d like to come over and discuss the movie.”

What movie? “That’s kind of you, but I don’t think there’s really anything to discuss.”

Jay laughed. “Once you get talking with Archer and see for yourself what a fantastic actor he is, I think you might change your mind.”

Hersch paused. Since Jay had murmured the word Davenport, his heartbeat had quickened again as if he were still running. He hated to admit it, but he was curious to meet one of Mila’s siblings. Was he curious enough to humor a meeting about a biopic?

Before he could speak, Jay said, “I know you have your reservations, but if you could just spare an hour, or even thirty minutes, we’ll supply the coffee, and all you have to do is listen.”

Hersch made a noncommittal sound.

“Look,” Jay continued, because the man was nothing if not persistent, “at least come and tell the hottest actor working in Hollywood, and one of the best looking, why you don’t want him to play you in the movie of your life.”

Hersch laughed then. “Since I’m pretty much neighbors with Archer now that I’ve moved to town, I guess I could come over for some neighborly coffee.”

Jay let out a triumphant sound. He said he’d text the address, and Hersch hung up, wondering what on earth he’d gotten himself into. As he headed back to his new home, he wondered if there was also maybe a tiny bit of himself that was flattered that anyone would want to make a movie about him.

* * *

A shower and a change of clothes later, Hersch followed his phone’s directions to Archer Davenport’s place on Scenic Drive, where he’d been running earlier. He briefly wondered if they’d seen him and that was why Jay had made the call, but he shook away the idea—surely not even Jay Malone was that conniving.

As he walked up to the door, he was impressed by the beauty of Archer’s home. He’d expected something spectacular—Archer was an A-list celebrity—but this place was a modern masterpiece of glass and sharp angles. Its crisp white paint job sparkled in the sun.

The dark gray front door was built to be intimidating, with a series of security cameras around the buzzer, but Hersch was used to high-level security. He rang the bell.

To his surprise, Archer himself opened the door. “Come right in,” he said. “So glad you could join us. I’m Arch.”

Hersch knew that Archer had recently broken his leg, but the only clue was that he walked with a slight limp. He’d clearly made a great recovery. Archer flashed him a true Hollywood-heartthrob smile and ushered him in.

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