Page 2 of Second Act
She hesitated, so he threw in a bribe. “There are sandwiches in my trailer, just in case you haven’t eaten recently.”
He knew the memory had caught her when the corners of her mouth twitched. Back when they were a couple, she had worked at a large emergency animal hospital in Los Angeles. When things got hectic, she would work through lunch, the hunger making her cranky by the time she got home. If she snarled at him when he said hello, he would make a beeline for the kitchen and assemble a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich at top speed, handing it to her without another word.
“That’s not why I’m in a bad mood,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “But you’ve convinced me to stay.”
A surprisingly powerful wave of satisfaction rolled through him. “Thank you, Jess. We’re almost done with this scene,” he said. “Then they have to reset the cameras to shoot in the alley. That’s when we’ll get a rest period.”
He waved the waiting Margaret forward. As the two women walked away, he watched his ex-fiancée’s back, noting the slush-spattered jeans and thick-soled, black leather boots. Another wave of nostalgia rolled over him. Jess had never cared what she wore, and yet her very unconcern had made her more beautiful in his eyes.
“Hugh!” Bryan’s voice yanked his thoughts away from the woman who had dumped him. “I want you on the main street again. You need to get back up to full speed before you take the turn.”
He banished Jessica from his mind and returned to the role every moviegoer in the world knew him as: Julian Best, super spy.
Jessica sat with her hands cupped around a mug of hot tea, gazing around Hugh’s trailer. With its four “slide-outs,” it was almost the same size as the apartment they’d lived in together eight years ago in Los Angeles and far more luxurious than the South Harlem Victorian row house she owned now. The trailer’s built-in tables and cabinets were all done in a burled blond wood that gleamed in slashes of late-afternoon sunlight. A crystal bowl of fresh fruit and a vase of purple-and-white flowers stood on the table in the fully equipped kitchen.
In the seating area, the chairs and sofas were upholstered in cognac leather, their plump cushions inviting her to relax in front of the giant television. Margaret had told her that Hugh watched the dailies on the huge screen. She’d even showed Jessica Hugh’s bedroom, which included one entire slide-out devoted to a brilliantly lit, mirrored makeup area.
“Not that Mr. Baker needs much makeup,” Margaret said. “He has one of those faces that the camera loves. And he gets better as he gets older.” There was adoration in the woman’s voice.
Jessica had been too shocked and then too distracted to examine her ex-fiancé’s face closely, but she’d watched him mature through his movies. Margaret was right about his camera appeal, but it was morethan his brilliant turquoise eyes, his sharply sculpted jawline, and that sinful mouth she remembered too vividly, all framed by thick, nearly black hair. Hugh had charisma and a seductive edge of darkness. When he was in a scene, all the other actors faded into insignificance. It was impossible to look away from him. She’d been engaged to all that, but once she’d accepted that she couldn’t stay with him without losing herself, she’d known she needed to get out of his way.
However, because she’d loved him so deeply that it seemed embedded in the marrow of her bones, she’d been happy for Hugh as he rose to stardom after she’d given back the ring. It was good to know that she’d done the right thing, even though it had ripped her guts out.
She had watched every one of his movies on the day it was released. The first one had been agonizing because the pain of their failure as a couple was still so fresh. Seeing Hugh larger than life-size on the big screen had stirred up memories both joyful and miserable, and she’d spent the entire two hours with tears streaming down her face. Thank God she’d gone alone.
Over time, the anguish had lessened and she could appreciate the movies themselves, seeing Hugh more as Julian Best and less as the man she’d loved too much to hold him back. This was what he’d been born to do, and she applauded the drive and talent that had rocketed him to the top of his profession, despite the fact that it meant leaving her behind.
His palace on wheels illustrated the level of what he’d achieved in a concrete way. Pushing away the contrast between her situation and his, she picked up one of the double-decker sandwiches from the platter Margaret had insisted on setting in front of her. She lifted the top slice of artisanal bread to reveal a thick layer of perfectly cooked steak. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes to savor the way the tender meat melted on her palate. Then hunger got the better of her and she devoured the rest of it at high speed.
She eyed the abundance on the platter and considered stuffing a sandwich in her pocket to lure the stray dog out of hiding. She hadn’tintended to spend her day off chasing down a terrified dog, but she was afraid the starving creature would give birth before dying as she tried to care for her puppies. And then all of them would perish. The thought sent a pang of guilt through her as she sat in luxury, waiting to chat with a world-famous movie star.
Which brought her to the question of why Hugh wanted to talk to her after eight years of silence. In the months after their breakup, she’d called him several times, getting his voice mail and leaving messages. He’d never returned them, so she’d given up.
His total withdrawal had been like a knife blade in her heart. She’d become an obstacle to his career, a weight that she didn’t want him to have to carry as he climbed ever upward, but she’d thought she could still be some small part of his life. He’d called her his best friend as well as the only woman he’d loved wholeheartedly. But he had cut her out of his world as though she hadn’t existed.
The misery came slashing back, and she jolted to her feet in search of a diversion.
She poked around the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the well-stocked refrigerator. She stopped to inhale the potent fragrance of lilies from the flower arrangement before spotting a couple of photos on the wall. The one that caught her eye was of Hugh and Gavin Miller, the bestselling author who wrote the Julian Best books. She’d heard that they had become friends. The photo must have been taken at some sort of awards ceremony, because both men wore tuxedos and sexy smiles, which evoked a nearly breathtaking effect.
A wave of desire surged through her as she recalled what Hugh looked like under the tuxedo, all lean, hard muscle, the kind of body that made him believable as a highly trained secret agent...and made his love scenes steaming hot.
She gulped down some cold water just as the door flew open. Hugh bounded into the trailer to stand in front of a vent set in the polished wood paneling, shivering in a white dress shirt that clung to every curveand contour of his shoulders and torso. He held his hands up to the flow of warm air and threw her a wry look. “It’s fu...rrricking freezing out there.” He turned his hands to warm the palms, and she remembered the way those long, powerful fingers had once played over her bare skin, sometimes with gentle seduction, sometimes with rough craving.
She’d never thought of herself as wildly passionate until she met Hugh. It wasn’t even his looks that had made her want to jump into bed with him every time they came within ten feet of each other—although they didn’t hurt. It was that he held nothing back when they made love. All his formidable barriers dropped, which brought out an answering intensity in her.
A frisson of awareness ran through her. She really needed to get away from Hugh and the memories he kept dredging up.
He rubbed his hands together and turned to her with his slanting smile. “Sorry, but I didn’t want my fingers to fall off due to frostbite. Let me grab a sweater and we’ll catch up.”
Jessica nodded because words had deserted her. She pivoted to watch him stride into his bedroom, the tailored wool of his trousers pulling tight over the muscled planes of his butt. He returned, tugging a silver-gray sweater over his head and down the expanse of his chest. Settling the hem at his narrow waist, he said, “Ahhh, that’s better.” Then he ran his fingers through the dark waves of his hair, smoothing out some of the rumple the sweater had given it.
Jessica curled her hands firmly around the water bottle because she wanted to finish the job of fixing his hair for him. Then she noticed something familiar about the sweater. “Is that the one I gave—?” She cut off her question, because it was absurd.
Hugh looked puzzled for a moment before he glanced down at his chest and back up again. “Yes. You sent it to me when the first Best movie came out.” He winced. “I never thanked you for it, did I? Forgive me for being a total ass.”
Pleasure and pain surged through her in equal waves. He’d loved beautiful clothes but couldn’t afford them when they were together. Just before the premiere of the first Julian Best movie, she’d wanted him to know she was celebrating for him, despite his refusal to return her calls. So she’d gone to an Armani store with her credit card in hand. When she had touched the sweater in the store, the knitted silk had flowed over her fingertips like a soft Caribbean sea. The price tag had made her choke, but she’d closed her eyes as she signed the receipt.
“I can’t believe you still have it.” Or that he remembered he hadn’t thanked her, a discourtesy that had sliced a fresh wound in her heart.
