Not a Fairy Tale

They reached the end of the long curve of beach and paused.

“You know, I’ve never been to the beach in LA,” Nina said. She wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself as if she was cold. But she wasn’t cold. She looked almost haunted.

“You should make more effort. We have some great beaches. Some excellent surfing, too.”

She shuddered. “No thanks. I don’t like the sea.”

And there was his deal-breaker. He loved the sea and spent every spare moment at the beach. He lived within a stone’s throw of the ocean just so it would be the first thing he saw every morning.

They meandered back the way they’d come, Dom splashing through the shallows, Nina keeping as far away from the lapping edge as she could. He watched her out the corner of his eye.

In public she always appeared so confident, so sparky, but here, alone in the dark with no one to primp and pose for, she seemed a different person, vulnerable, lost. It tugged at him.

As he’d told Graydon, he was a sucker for a damsel in distress.

He paused to look out across the restless ocean.

He’d heard of the Revelations project somewhere, and that it was in pre-production. He didn’t know much, but he’d heard enough to know that it was very different from any movie Nina had done before. It wasn’t surprising she was a long shot for the role, but if she wanted it enough, he had no doubt she could do it. He’d watched her perform opposite his friend Christian in Pirate’s Revenge and he knew she was worth more than the roles she usually played.

He could help her. Unconsciously he rubbed the constant ache in his hip again. Why was he even considering it? He wasn’t in any shape to conduct an actress boot camp.

He could find someone else to train her… He discarded the idea as quickly it came. Perhaps it was the arrogance of professional pride, but the thought of her spending all her time the next few weeks working with someone other than him made his stomach revolt.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered beside him. She’d ventured into the shallows, tentatively letting the waves bury her bare feet in the sand.

Though she didn’t like the sea, she’d faced its challenge. He liked that in a woman.

Nina was just as obsessed with how she looked and what people thought as every other actress he knew, and she probably lived on a diet of grated carrots and lettuce leaves most of the time, but she had potential. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d have a hissy fit if she broke a nail working out.

“Why me?” he asked. “Why not book yourself into a boot camp or hire a personal trainer?”

She shook her head. “Anyone can do that. I need to be better. To win this role I’m going to need to do a lot more than just run on a treadmill or do Pilates classes. I don’t only need to get physically fit, I also need to get into Sonia’s headspace. I need someone to push me, to challenge me. I need to be able to walk and talk like her. Now when I walk into a room, people see the girl next door, maybe a little sassy, a little outspoken, a bit of a klutz, but no one would think of me as a badass. I want to be able to walk into the casting director’s office and have her think Lara Croft just walked in.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you think I’m going to be able to teach you all that?”

She grinned, expression cheeky. “You’re the most badass person I know.”

“I’m not badass. I live in the suburbs and drink green tea.”

“What can I say? I don’t get out much.” She cast him a sideways glance, all but batting those too-long fake lashes of hers. “Besides, you wouldn’t really want me to go hang out in some biker bar to learn to be badass, would you?”

He frowned. Not that he believed she would, but even the mere thought of Nina in a bar full of drunken men was enough to make his fists clench. “It takes most people a lifetime to become badass. How much time do you have?”

“Six weeks. But I’m an actress. With the right training, I can fake it.”

He looked at her, saying nothing, and she hurried on, “There are so many things I haven’t yet done in my life that Sonia would know how to do. That’s all I’m asking, is for you to help me do a few of those things.”

“Things like?”

“Load and fire a gun, be able to hold my own in a stage fight, take a fall.” She grinned. “Ride on a motorcycle and walk on a beach at night.”

“There are stunt schools that teach those sorts of things.”

She shook her head. “And have a whole bunch of people watch as I make a fool of myself? No thanks! I trust you.”

He ignored the obvious flattery. “A stunt school would be more all-rounded. You need trainers who can do vehicular stunts and pyrotechnics and weapons training. I’m a martial artist with a specialty in falls.” And he wasn’t even good at those these days. He flinched at the memory of his last fall, from a Paris hotel balcony to a snow-covered lawn. Without the luxury of airbags or protective clothing. It had been one jolt too many for his already- damaged body.

“But you have the connections,” she persisted. She made her eyes big and round. “Please?”

He did have the connections. And he could do this. The risk was minimal. But whether he should was another matter entirely.

Mistaking his hesitance for reluctance, her face clouded over. “I’ll pay you well.”

He shook his head. “It’s not about money.”

“You already have plans for the next few weeks?”

He looked away. “I haven’t got any work booked in.” And he’d love an excuse to postpone the surgery. “Why do you want this role so much? Tell me about this script and what you need to learn and I’ll consider working with you.”

The radiance in her face was enough to take his breath away. He’d be the first to admit his ego needed stroking a little now and then, too, and when a woman looked at him like that it made him feel like a hero. He needed that feeling more than ever these days, now that he’d been forced to face his own mortality.

They strolled back the way they’d come, and as they walked, she talked about the role. Here in the quiet of the beach, with no one else around, her voice washed over him, slow and sensual and mesmerizing. But was that a soft, Southern accent creeping in? He’d been sure she was from somewhere in the Midwest.

He shook his head. Perhaps he’d imagined it.

What was certainly not his imagination was the passion she felt for this script. More than simple admiration for the role, it was as if she wanted to be Sonia.

“This story really means something to you.” He sat down on a sandy spot high up the beach and patted the ground beside him.

Nina sat beside him, pulling her knees to her chest, and looked up at the sky, not answering him for a long moment. “I read the books at a very hard time in my life. Sonia’s story helped me through it. They took me very far away from what I was going through.”

He watched her face, the moonlight turning her expression stark.

She sucked in her lower lip. “I’ve always been the odd one out in my family. For the Alexanders, duty and service to others have always been more important than personal happiness. I’m not like that. Playing Sonia is the closest I’ll ever get to saving the world single-handed.”

That was a hell of a lot of pressure to put on oneself. What kind of superhero family did she come from? Probably cops or military. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. He never asked women about their families. Because when you asked those kinds of questions you jumped straight into ‘complications’ territory.

He stretched out on his side, cushioning his head with his arms, and a moment later she lay beside him, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could feel the rise and fall of her breathing.

Their gazes held and desire sizzled through him. He’d wanted her from the first time he’d seen her, and the temptation now to take what he wanted was almost more than he could stand. So why didn’t he? It wouldn’t take much to close the distance between them, to lose himself in those full, pink lips.

He rolled away to lie on his back and look up at the clear, night sky.

He had very few scruples when it came to women. As long as it was consensual and legal, she was fair game.

But somehow with Nina he couldn’t bring himself to make a move. Perhaps because she deserved so much better than him. She deserved better than Paul de Angelo, too.

She most definitely deserved better than casual sex or a one-night stand, which was all he was looking for.

She was so quiet he wondered if she dozed. He wouldn’t be surprised after the day she must have had. The preparations for Oscar night were almost as grueling as the event itself. Not unlike the rush of working on a film set: exciting, challenging, invigorating, and exhausting all in one.

But when he turned his head to look at her, she was awake, watching him through half-lidded eyes. With a small smile she crept closer and laid her head on his chest. He let her.

For a long time they lay together in silence. He draped his arm over her and she snuggled into him. She had to be cold in what was left of her fancy dress.

She shifted against him, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him. “Aside from the adrenalin rush, what’s the best part of your job?”

He had to pause a moment to think about it. The adrenalin rush and the challenge of daring to do the impossible were the reasons he got out of bed every day. “The anonymity. I love the fact that I get to do this fun job, but at the end of the day I can go for a jog along the beach, or drink in a bar without someone sticking a camera phone in my face.”

He could tell by the look on her face that it was exactly the opposite of why she did what she did. She shrugged. “Will you help me?”

“We can talk about it in the morning.”

“As you reminded me earlier, it is the morning.”

“Then we can talk about it when we’ve both had some sleep.” He wasn’t going to make any rash promises tonight. Not with the smell of her perfume clouding his judgment and the softness of her hair tickling his chin.

Besides, she was in a heightened emotional state and who knew if she’d still feel the same tomorrow? Who knew if she’d even remember to say “thank you” to him for rescuing her tomorrow?

Not that it mattered. He didn’t go around rescuing damsels for the glory. He was just a sucker for a woman with tears in her eyes and tonight she’d had that look written all over her.

Tonight she needed a friend, someone at her side, not because of who she was and what she could do for them, but just to be there for her. He could do that.

And tomorrow…

Tomorrow had a way of taking care of itself.

Nina said nothing. Her lids hung heavy and she laid her cheek against his chest again.

He watched a satellite orbit slowly across the sky and when it disappeared from sight, he stirred, moving his aching limbs. “I should take you home before it gets light and the rest of the world wakes up.”

“I don’t want to go home. Can’t I just stay here?” She murmured.

“If you don’t mind getting some very curious stares from the early-morning beach walkers.”

She sighed. “You’re right. I’m damned if I stay and damned if I go, so home it will have to be.” She rolled away from him and sat up, reaching for her shoes. “Is my make-up smudged? If it is, we’ll need to find a restroom somewhere so I can try to fix it up. If I have to get past the inevitable cameras, at least I don’t want to look as if I’ve fallen to pieces.”

“There is another option. You could come home with me.”

She eyed him coolly for a long moment before she answered. “Thanks, but no thanks. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight, but I’m not that grateful.”

“That wasn’t a proposition. I have a guest room you can use.”

“You don’t want me?” She pouted, her big eyes rounding in a typical actress way, as if her entire being depended on being wanted and adored every moment of the day.

He laughed, hoping she was just messing with him. “You’ve had an upsetting and emotional night and I won’t take advantage of that. I don’t have many morals when it comes to pretty women, but I don’t prey on them in their moments of weakness.” Preying on their easiness tended to be way less complicated. “When I make love to a woman, it’s not because she’s grateful, or confused, or out of some misguided need for comfort. When you come to me, it’ll be because you want me.” He stood and dusted himself off. “And just for the record, of course I find you desirable. I am a man, after all.”

There was that smile again, the one that turned her luminescent and could make the strongest of men feel like a million bucks. The smile that was pure old-school Hollywood glamour.

They climbed back to the road. She straddled the bike behind him again, her body pressed up against his, her arms wrapped around his waist, and he smiled too.

The drive all the way back to Venice Beach suddenly didn’t seem so far.

Nina wasn’t sure how she’d imagined Dominic’s house, but this wasn’t it. Not the stereotypical penthouse apartment of a bachelor, all chrome and glass, but a craftsman cottage in a quiet walk street in Venice, bright-colored amid a lush garden oasis just visible now in the light tinge of dawn.

She was too tired to notice much more as she followed Dom through the house to the guest bedroom.

He hovered in the door and she turned to face him. “Thank you. For everything.”

The crooked grin curved his mouth, and it wasn’t gratitude that had her hoping he would lean in so she could feel that grin against her lips.

“For what it’s worth…” his voice was a purr that started at the top of her spine and whispered all the way down. “I’m glad you turned down Paul de Angelo.”

He pulled the door shut behind him and she found herself staring at it for a long moment, her pulse racing and her mouth dry.

Removing her make-up was a mission, with nothing more than soap and water at hand, but she managed to get rid of the worst before she shucked off the remains of her destroyed evening dress and crawled between sheets smelling of lemony fabric softener.

It was only as she closed her eyes to let sleep claim her that she remembered what Dominic had said. Not “if you come to me,” but when.

Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she drifted into sleep.

Chapter Three

The angle of the light was all wrong. Nina forced open eyelids that seemed stuck together. Her mind was awake, but her body resisted. She snuggled deeper into the warm, soft duvet with its alien scent and peered out.

Her emotions were less easy to appease than her body. As the memories of the night came crashing back, so did the disappointment, excitement, humiliation, and turmoil. But her most overwhelming sensation was relief.

She’d done the right thing.

She was so not going to be one of those celebrities who racked up marriages and divorces faster than they racked up air miles.

What had Paul been thinking? They hadn’t even met each other’s families yet. How would her family feel hearing the news of her engagement from whichever reporter first managed to track them down for a comment?

She could imagine what Gran would have to say, and none of it would be printable.

Even so, she’d probably committed career suicide last night. But she couldn’t lie in bed all day and pretend it hadn’t happened. She’d have to get out there and face the music.

She stretched in the luxurious warmth of the bed and lifted herself up on her elbows. A large room, all in white but somehow not clinical. Golden sunlight slanted through the gap in the gauzy white curtains, across the white hardwood floor and onto the four-poster where she had slept. On one wall hung a dozen pictures in matching dark-wood frames. She climbed out of bed and moved to take a closer look.

Miniature movie posters; the kind they gave away free at movie theatres on opening nights. It was a moment before she registered they were probably all movies Dominic had worked on. Not all Christian Taylor movies, though she’d assumed they always worked as a team.

On the antique bench at the foot of the bed lay a pile of neatly folded clothes with a note. Hope something fits. She lifted the clothes gingerly. A pair of ladies’ sweatpants, jeans, a couple of t-shirts, and a hoodie. She didn’t want to think too closely who they might once have belonged to. She didn’t want to think too closely about what their owners had worn to go home in either. But at least they would be more comfortable than a way-too-revealing, torn evening gown.

She showered and dressed in the grey sweatpants, a plain-white t-shirt, and the hoodie. The fact that the jeans were at least two sizes too small didn’t help her mood.

When she emerged from the bedroom, the house was eerily quiet. She tiptoed down the passage and into the open-plan living area, careful not to disturb her host if he still slept.

The living rooms were warm and homely, with scatter cushions and vases, an unexpected window of stained glass in the dining area, and a wall of framed family photos Nina didn’t look at too closely. This was nothing like the carefully styled “I’m a sensitive man” look Paul’s decorator had created, with native American art on the walls but not a personal picture in sight.

Dom’s house had a haphazard warmth and feminine touches that suggested the action man with a reputation for going through women quicker than most men went through underwear had at least one home-making woman in his life.

Nina clenched her jaw and headed for the kitchen. It took her a couple of impatient minutes to figure out how to work the state-of-the-art coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen, then she set to ransacking the cupboards for something to eat.

Dom had a surprisingly well-stocked refrigerator for a bachelor. Fruit, vegetables, pro-biotic yogurt and freshly squeezed organic juice. After last night’s decadence, she should stick to All-Bran and water, but instead, she grabbed a banana muffin and a tub of yogurt, then sat at the kitchen counter with her espresso. The house didn’t have much of a view, but the back yard was certainly pretty, enticing her to enjoy its delights. A wooden patio set stood on the small redwood deck, with a wall of lush greenery beyond. A grapevine grew across the trellis that shaded the deck, and a wind chime hummed a melody as it stirred in the breeze.

She rose to head to the sliding doors and caught sight of the wall clock. She only just managed to stifle a groan. Mid-afternoon already. Everyone she knew had to be worried sick and wondering where she was by now. At the very least her PA, Wendy, would have expected her to report in a few hours ago.

Now, where the hell was her cell phone? Nina clapped a hand over her mouth, suppressing another groan. She’d left her purse at the coat check. At the one-of-a-kind, once-off party venue, which was no doubt already being dismantled.

She could only hope some journo wasn’t going through her cell phone photos right now. Was there anything incriminating on there? Aside from a couple of no make-up selfies, she hoped not.

Using the landline in Dom’s kitchen (who even still had one in this day and age?) she called the only number she could remember off the top of her head. She hoped Dom wouldn’t object to the long-distance call.

“Hello?” Jessie’s voice sounded tentative down the line.

“Hi, Jess.”

Her sister screeched so loud, Nina had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling and calling, and finally some intern from Vanity Fair answered your phone. She didn’t believe it was yours either. She was convinced an A-list celebrity would own something fancier.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “I left it at the after-party.”

“That good, was it? Did the party cheer you up, then? You sounded so down after the awards ceremony.”

So her sister hadn’t heard the biggest news of the night yet. “The Governor’s Ball was really wonderful. How did your appointment go this morning? Did it take – are you pregnant?”

Jess’s hesitation was all the answer she needed. Nina’s heart sank. How many IVFs had her sister already tried and failed?

Jess cleared her throat. “Give me all the details. How was the VF party? Who was there? Drop some names. Was it really as glamorous as it looks?”

Allowing herself to be diverted, Nina sipped a mouthful of espresso and launched into a description of the after-party as best she could. But her stomach pulled tighter as she talked. She had to get this over with. Jessie couldn’t hear from some other source. She steeled herself. “Paul proposed.”

“Shut up! Why didn’t you tell me you guys were that serious? ”

“Because we weren’t. I didn’t see it coming.” She stumbled for words. “I didn’t know what to do. He asked me in front of everyone. And I mean everyone. I said ‘no’.”

“Are you mad?” Her sister screeched again, and Nina held the phone away from her ear. Not Jessie too.

“I don’t want to marry him. I mean he’s nice and everything, but he’s not…I can’t see myself with him for the rest of my life.” She couldn’t see herself with anyone for the rest of her life. She had little enough privacy as it was. But if she was going to spend her life with someone, it would be someone who set her alight, not someone who’d eventually wear her down.

As the words of her favorite country song went, she was “better in a black dress” than in a white veil.

“You mean he’s not your One.” Jessie sighed. For someone who was constantly telling Nina how out of touch she was with reality, her sister was such a hopeless romantic.

“By saying no I think I’ve undone any good the nomination did for my career.”

“So what do you do next?”

Good question. Nina bit her lip. “I have a plan, but it’s not going to be easy and I’m a little scared.”

“You’ll be fine.” Jessie used her professional voice, the reassuring tone she used on her patients. “I know you. You’ll do whatever it takes and you’ll be great. Things always work out for you.”

If only she had the same faith in herself that Jessie did. But Jessie was the strong one, not her. Her sister was the glass-half-full kind. Nina, on the other hand, had yet to see any evidence for Jessie’s belief that everything happened for a reason. Sometimes shitty things just happened.

“Thanks, Jess. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Her next call took two other phone calls just to track down the right number. “Are you mad?” her PA, Wendy, demanded. “How could you turn down Paul de Angelo?”

This was going to be a very long day.

Nina set Wendy to track down her purse, gave her a list of things she needed and Dominic’s address, then hung up.

The last call was the one she’d been dreading most. Dane was still as cold to her as he’d been the night before, but at least he took her call. “Paul’s been busy this morning,” he said. “The press are not painting a flattering picture of you. There’s a lot of speculation that you’ve been two-timing him. You’re not going to be able to get a Hallmark movie after this.”

Well there was the upside. No more rom-coms. Maybe she could start to prove herself as a serious actress now, with roles worthy of the Alexander name.

“I’m sending Chrissie over to you. You’re going to need her help more than mine to get you out of this.” Dane hung up.

Great. So Paul had started the media machine moving while she slept. Well, there was nothing she could do about it stuck in Venice Beach, so all she could do was wait.

There was still no sign of Dominic. Either he was a very sound sleeper, or he’d gone out. Either way, she was hardly going to go upstairs to find out.

She pushed open the glass sliding door and stepped onto the deck. Beyond the wall of green she discovered another little yard, a paved suntrap patio edged with raised beds of bright-colored spring flowers. She stretched out on the sun lounger in the little garden. The golden late-afternoon sun warmed her and, unable to fight exhaustion any longer, her eyes drifted closed.