Chapter 4

Mia

Saturday 8.14am

While I’m waiting for him to come back, I tidy up the kitchen, rummage around in the pantry and find an assortment of things I’ve seen in the grocery store but never tried.

I can’t afford to eat gourmet. I consider myself lucky that I get a free meal at the diner each day.

Given my propensity to stress eat, and my genetics, it’s quite possibly the only reason I’m keeping my weight down.

It’s beyond cliché that I’m an aspiring actress waiting tables. But it was either that or work as a PA, but a desk job would make it even harder to stay in shape.

I frown at the food. So far, I’m pretty sure my little temper tantrum has cost me a hundred bucks I don’t have.

I have no real idea of how much the wine was. I can feign ignorance all I like, but I drank most of it. It was too good not to. The breakfast foods shouldn’t be too expensive, but I have no real idea of what he’s planning on charging me.

It was reckless and childish to open it just because he mentioned my boobs. I’ve heard dozens of worse stories since I arrived in L.A.

How am I going to cope with any kind of success? I’ve heard horror stories about actresses getting trolls, and worse, creepy stalkers who follow them everywhere.

I close my eyes and close the pantry door. I need to stop being so stupid. My feelings got hurt, so what? This is par for the course. No one escapes sexual harassment these days.

And Mark had a reputation. I knew it before I agreed. He’s not exactly a studio giant who can wreck my career but he has contacts, and the entire industry is built on the ‘it’s who you know’ philosophy.

There’s no point sabotaging my career before it's even begun. I doubt Mark will mind me taking a shower, and eating some of the cheaper food, but drinking the wine and with the addition of the broken glass, are costs that I’ll have to pay for.

I go back to the bedroom, tug my jeans on and try to remember how much I have left in my bank account as I go back out to the living room.

I freeze, throat thick as I find Zander leaning against the countertop.

I’m not sure where to look. He’s almost as exposed as yesterday when he appeared on the jetty.

Dressed in a wetsuit he’s rolled to his waist, his chest and arms are bare.

He looks like all my teenage fantasies and grown ones have converged into one heavenly pile of bronzed masculinity standing in the kitchen.

I have to remind myself to breathe as he nods his head. “All I could find.”

My voice comes out stilted. “Well, that’s uh, something.”

Only it’s not. It’s barely anything. Just a layer of fabric covering his thighs. He was less naked when wearing the robe.

At least I’m dressed now. Both of us swanning around the fancy lake house, like it’s ours, was only going to confuse me even more.

He stretches his shoulders back and pushes off the counter. “I’m still hungry. Anything decent to eat?”

I’m not sure if he’s insulting me for my choice of breakfast so I shrug. “Plenty of canned things. I was trying to eat the cheap stuff. I’m pretty sure Mark is going to bill me for staying here.”

Zander freezes almost mid-step. “He left you out in the middle of nowhere, on your own and he expects you to pay for your food?”

My shoulders start to rise in a shrug but he scowls in the direction of the kitchen. “You’re paying for me to eat then.”

“Well, yeah. I guess. But it’s okay—”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. That’s not right.”

I try to keep my body relaxed as I chew my lip. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, maybe look me up if you’re ever in L.A. I’m in Hyde Park.”

A dark expression crosses his face. “That’s a brutal part of L.A. You live alone?”

I’m not sure what I’m doing or what I’m thinking telling him personal details about my life.

Maybe my brother and mom were right? I’m way too trusting. Except, I don’t trust him. I’m not an idiot. He’s in trouble and there’s a strong chance he’ll pull me into it too.

“I have a roommate. She’s an actress too. That’s how I got this part.”

He lifts his chin slightly. “What about a boyfriend? Someone wondering if you’re okay?”

My heart starts to beat too fast as I scramble to think about why he’s asking. “That’s none of your business.”

The slightest flickering of amusement crosses his face irritating me further. I’m precariously close to telling him what I’ve been through just to come to L.A. when he raises his hands in the air in an ‘I give up’ gesture.

Were it not for the sharp intake of breath signaling he’s still in pain, I’d be giving him a detailed run down, but his eyes are on the empty bottle of wine I left on the coffee table.

He gestures to the bottle “That’s an expensive bottle of wine.”

I frown so hard my forehead hurts. “I know. I don’t know I’m going to explain it.”

He lifts his shoulders. “You lie for a living. Make something up. It should be easy for you.”

This time my exasperation does erupt. “I am an actor. Not a liar. They aren’t the same thing.”

He sniffs like this isn’t a big deal. “Yeah, they are. You just haven’t been doing it long enough to realize. Sooner or later you’ll have trouble figuring out where the role starts and it ends.”

My mouth opens and closes as heat consumes me. “You’ve known a lot of actors then?”

He doesn’t answer but frowns hard. “You can’t trust anyone who lies for a living. Someone says they want to do you a favor, there are always strings attached. No one does anything nice just because they can.”

Something flickers over his face and there’s enough pain in his eyes for me to see he’s telling the truth.

I huff out a breath. “Well. Thank you for your jaded and cynical appraisal. I, on the other hand, choose to believe there are good people left in this world.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Good? Hardly. Most people will throw you under a bus rather than help you.”

I scoff aloud and gesture around us. “Oh really? Then why did you bother asking me for my help?”

His expression unexpectedly softens throwing me slightly. “I asked because I was half out of my mind and I was desperate.”

I raise an eyebrow and he carries on as if trying to placate me. “And for the record, I wasn’t talking about you. I was just saying that’s an incredibly naïve way to look at the world. Especially for someone who works in Hollywood.”

I throw my hands in the air. “I’m not making up some story.”

He shifts closer, deep grooves in his forehead as he speaks. “You may not have a choice.”

It’s such an ominous thing to say, ripples of fear start to course through my body.

He’s touching distance away from me when his gaze once again travels to my mouth. “I’m going fishing. You coming?”

I square my shoulders. “That depends. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

He works his jaw. “No. I’m not.”

I’m still formulating a scathing reply when he pivots and walks straight out the door without another word.

I huff out a breath and fold my arms across my chest. My gaze travels to the wine rack along the wall.

“Oh dammit,” I mutter to the empty kitchen. It would be so easy to lie about what I’ve used so I don’t have to pay for it.

And even though I hate to admit it, lying might be easier than telling Mark the truth in its entirety.

***

Zander

With a grunt, I drop to the end of the jetty and look over the still water. It’s getting warmer, the sun rising over the mountains.

My muscles are stiff and sore. But the ache in my ribs has subsided to a dull throb overnight.

I’m still tired, but a night’s sleep, food and some pain relief seem to have worked miracles.

My ribs aren’t busted, I have somewhere to sleep for the next couple of nights, and as much food as I need.

Maybe I should allow myself to relax? Just while I’m here. I can see for miles around us. There are only two ways in or out and both ways require either a car or a boat.

Both of which make enough noise to give me a head start if someone comes this way.

I’m pondering getting up to pack when I hear her footsteps on the jetty.

I look over my shoulder and do a double-take when I see her carrying a picnic basket.

She stops walking and her shoulders stiffen. I think she’s about to turn back when she carries on until she’s beside me.

The basket swinging in her hand, she squints down at me and extends her hand. “Truce?”

I frown up at her silhouette. I can’t figure her out, but my stomach is starting to grumble, so I reach up, and grasp her outstretched fingers.

Her hands fits neatly in mine. Warm, soft skin encased in my calloused hand. “Sure. Just don’t ask me any questions and we’ll do fine.”

Her lips press together tightly but she sits crossed legged beside me. She places the food between us as she stares out at the water. “Is it deep?”

Her gaze shoots to me, then a teasing look appears. “Or is that a secret too?”

I growl and reach for the latch to the basket. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

I don’t expect a response so I’m surprised when she laughs. “Maybe I will later. After you catch some fish.”

I look inside the picnic basket and frown as I see nothing remotely sensible. Just expensive snacks, wine, plastic plates, wine glasses and a corkscrew.

I grab a bottle and pass it to her with a frown. “This isn’t lunch.”

She takes the bottle and smirks at me. “It’s a liquid lunch. And there’s food inside.”

I pick a bag of gourmet crackers and rip them open. I shove a couple in my mouth then pull out a few and crush them in my hand.

I can feel her eyes on me when I toss them into the water. She looks so bewildered my lip curls into a half-smile. “Bait.”

Her mouth makes a silent ‘O’ before she pulls the corkscrew and a wine glass out.

I watch her from the corner of my eye as I put the line in the green-tinged water.

She fills a glass and holds it out to me. When I just stare at her, she wrinkles her nose. “What?”

I shake my head. “A little early isn’t it?”

Her face falls and she pulls the glass away from me and brings it to her lips. “I don’t have a watch. It could be nearly noon for all I know.”

I splutter a laugh. “That’s the flimsiest excuse ever given. And I thought you were using only what you needed?”

She shrugs but she smiles as she takes another drink. “I am. But I decided I also saw a man running off into the woods, carrying armloads of wine and food.”

My jaw slackens. “What?” I say through a laugh.

She downs more wine then reaches in the basket for something to eat. “That’s my story.”

Her hand does to her chest and her eyes pop open, her voice comes out high and filled with horror. “He was snarling, almost feral, like a wild animal, I could have been killed.”

I shake my head slowly. “That’s the story you’re planning on telling your boss? That some man-beast thing broke into the house and managed to run away with some of the food? That’s ridiculous. It sounds like something a ten-year-old would make up.”

She scowls at me. “Yeah well. I was just testing it out. Maybe I’ll tone it back.”

I’m still shaking my head when I reach inside the basket and hand her my glass. “Keep it simple. Say you were checking out the shed when you heard the glass smash.”

She pours me a sizable glass of red wine I’m not sure I should be drinking and nods slowly. “And I disturbed him, and he ran off with, um, a tramping pack filled with food.”

She jiggles a little. “Oh, and he must have knocked over a bottle of wine because it was spilled on the floor.”

I nod slowly. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

I take a gulp of the wine. “Which direction did he head in? What was he wearing?”

She looks out of the water, eyes slightly narrowed as if concentrating. “Towards the road. And he was dressed in…”

Mia looks over at me, glass pressed to her lips as she gestures for me to carry on. “Dressed in boots, jeans, and a t-shirt,” I finish for her.

She raises her glass and grins at me. “Well, okay—"

I interrupt her. “What did he look like? Build, hair? Eye color?

Her head tilts slightly as her eyes run over my face then down until she’s staring at my chest.

Her cheeks pink and her voice comes out a little throaty. “Tall. Muscled…rugged, strong, like he’s spent a lot of time outdoors.”

Her breathing seems to be speeding and she won’t look me in the eye. “But I was too far away to see his face clearly.”

Relief floods my body. She’s not going to rat me out. She has almost as much to lose as I do if she tells anyone about me being here, so I raise my glass. “To good people.”

She clinks her glass against mine. “To good people.”

***

Mia

I’m not sure if it’s the wine, or the sun, or him, but I’m feeling distantly warm and entirely relaxed.

Despite a rocky start, he’s almost nice to be around. When he’s not frowning at me I could almost pretend this is a date.

I don’t what that says about me. Or what it means I’m pretty sure this is the best date I’ve been on recently.

Rather than incessant talking, his quiet, broody silence, sitting on the end of the jetty, drinking when it’s way too early, is strangely enjoyable.

I’m a talker by nature, but with Zander, talking is dangerous.

I send him sly glances, examining him as he dangles the fishing line in the murky water below us. It’s hard not to appreciate how masculine he is.

I have no doubt he could pick me up and throw me over his shoulder caveman-style and I’m pretty sure his knuckles are grazed from fighting.

A shudder of desire starts to build the more I look him over. He’s nothing like the posers in the gym I see regularly.

He’s what my mom would describe as a real man. A beer-drinking, deer stalking, take no shit, fix his own truck kind of man.

Zander is the kind of man my brother would watch sports with.

My stomach does a little backflip when he looks in my direction. His gaze is loaded, and everything I’m trying not to think about floats to the surface.

I stop breathing. Intensely aware of him. Of the sound of water lapping against the jetty. Of the sound of my heart beating, the way I’m leaning closer, hoping, waiting, wanting what I shouldn’t.

When he doesn’t look away, and he’s sitting so close, leaning over and kissing him seems like the most natural thing in the world to do.

I slowly put my glass down, heart thundering in my chest as his eyes drift over my face.

Just when I think he’s going to make a move, he jerks away, eyes on the rod in his hand.

He reels in the line and lets out a tiny grunt as a slimy head appears in the water below us.

The fish thrashes about as Zander reels it in, I edge back as the wriggling fish lands on the jetty.

I squeal and leap to my feet as it flips about, I edge back, horrified as Zander, just calmly gets to his feet, grabs the empty wine bottle and smashes it against the poor creature’s skull.

I’m so startled, I edge away from him. Too late, I realize there’s nothing but air under my left foot.

I hit the water screaming and suck in a mouthful of lake water. In a blind panic I flail about trying to breathe as my jeans start to drag me under.

I’m choking and spluttering, trying to find the bottom when I hear a splash above me.

I’m grabbed roughly, strong tanned forearm locked around my chest Zander starts to swim me back to shore.

I struggle until he growls in my ear. “I got you.”

My body tenses as he grips me tighter. My panic subsides as he swims backward until I can reach the bottom.

I drag myself out of the water, feeling ridiculous as I catch Zander staring at me like I’m an idiot.

I’m so mortified I was so clumsy that I lie back and cover my face with my hands.

Zander doesn’t say a word, which makes my humiliation even worse. I risk a sneak at him, wondering if he’s wearing his signature scowl.

But he’s not scowling. He’s looking at me, or precisely his eyes are locked on my chest.

With a start, I look down and see why. My shirt is stuck to my breasts, highlighting my nipples.

That I now look like an entrant in a wet t-shirt competition, only compounds my embarrassment.

I can’t stay lying here, and I now need to dry my only set of clothes before Mark arrives.

I groan aloud and pull myself to sitting. I can’t look at him so I just get to my feet and turn to walk up the bank.

Unfortunately, I’m waterlogged, slightly drunk and my heavy jeans are slipping down my hips throwing me off balance.

I stumble, feet slipping as I try to climb the bank. Zander grips my arm so I’m forced to look at him.

Water is streaming down his face and chest. His face is tight, and he looks almost worried when he draws me closer. “Go get out of your clothes. Get in the shower. You’re shivering.”

My mouth slackens and the hairs at the back of my neck rise. His grip loosens on my arms as his chest starts to rise and fall to match my increased breathing.

I don’t move, I don’t breathe as his eyes search my face and land on my lips. He lifts a hand and his fingers brush a wet strand of hair from my face.

Shivers run the length of me as his fingers graze my cheek. His voice comes out rough. “Go.”

He releases me and I stagger slightly. My legs are like Jell-O as I climb the incline and make my way across the grass.

I stumble up the steps, skin on fire as I walk through the house until I’m standing beside the shower.

I turn the shower on and start to strip off my clothes. I’m trying to wriggle out of my jeans when I hear him come back inside.

My heart starts to tap too quickly as I listen for the sound of his footsteps over the shower running.

I ease across the tiled floor, hand hovering over the lock on the door. My fingers twitch then I drop my arm and back away.

I fumble with my jeans and manage to get them off. I wait a few beats of my pounding heart before I step under the water wearing my bra and panties.

I take off my underwear and rinse it so I can dry it out. Eyes on the door, I wash and condition my hair and hastily shave my legs with the razor I found.

When I’m clean, warm and slightly disappointed he didn’t join me, I pull on the robe and wring the water out of my jeans as best as I can.

I don’t have the hand strength, but I’m pretty sure Zander does.

Jeans and t-shirt abandoned in the shower, I twist the door handle ready to go looking for him.

I poke my head out and don’t hear him inside the house. I listen for a few seconds then creep out into the hallway before I go back into my bedroom.

Thankfully, I left my sneakers in the house, so I at least don’t need to dry them too.

I run my fingers through my hair and pad back out into the hallway, tugging at the knots in my hair.

I bump into something solid and inhale sharply as Zander steps back, looking as unsure as I feel.

I open my mouth to apologize but his eyes are on the opening of my robe. When he steps forward, a hungry look on his face, I know I’m not the only one struggling.

“We’re you looking for me?”

My voice comes out in a whisper. “I needed your help, um with my clothes…”

His eyebrow raises a flickering of amusement flashes across his face. “You needed help taking them off?”

I exhale slowly, skin prickling with the desire to touch him. “I’m not strong enough to wring the water out.”

Zander’s lip curls into a smile that sends shivers running down my spine and dirty thoughts tramping through my mind.

He brushes past me, and I turn to follow him. I’m ready to give him instructions but he’s already found my jeans and to my horror my underwear.

Without a word he grabs the jeans and twists while I hover at the doorway. I watch his forearms flex, and his muscles tense as he works the water out.

I move to stop him before he starts on my underwear but I’m too late. He grabs them and scrunches them up in a ball.

He’s wearing a wry smile he hands them to me. “I’ll let you take care of those.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I accept them and place them on the vanity. He picks up my wet t-shirt and wrings out the water.

With every movement of his hands, every muscle contracting, every grunt of exertion, my lust grows until I’m starting to sweat.

When he finishes wringing out the shirt, his eyes find mine. Every nerve ending tingles as he takes a step closer.

My breathing is starting to increase the more he looks at me. There can be no mistaking his interest when he moves within touching distance. “Anything else you need me to do for you?”

I can’t breathe let alone speak. There are so many things I want him to do. So many things I can’t.

When I don’t answer, he pulls back and his expression shifts to guarded. “I’ll go gut the fish.”

I want to stop him. I want to tell him not to leave. But I say nothing as he walks back out of the bathroom.