Hope Smolders Page 11

  "Yeah."

  "Got ID?"

  Logan let out a short laugh. "I'm not about to show you my ID. Like I said, I own this land and you're renting it."

  "We'll still need to see ID," burly guy number two said.

  Logan folded his arms. "Yeah? You can kiss my ass."

  His attention turned to a slight woman--a girl, really--running up the hill. Technically she appeared to be jogging because she wore tight pants that went just past her knees and a sleeveless top that hugged her slender body. She had raven black hair pulled back in a braid, and the guys suddenly stepped in front of Logan as if he was about to pull a gun on the woman.

  When she reached them, she stopped, drawing in several deep breaths. "What's up, Carl?"

  "Saw this guy parked up here and came to check it out. He says he's the property owner, but he won't show ID to prove it."

  She finally straightened and stretched her back. "Is that right? And are you the property owner?"

  "So it says on the ranch deed."

  She looked him over. "I don't see any cameras on him. Do you?"

  The one named Carl shook his head. "No. He was just leaning against his truck drinking a beer."

  "Then he's probably the property owner." She walked over and held out her hand. "I'm Des."

  Logan shook her hand. "Logan McCormack."

  "Nice ranch, Logan."

  "Thanks."

  "Have you been down to watch filming yet?"

  "Why would I want to do that?"

  She quirked a smile. "I don't know. I thought maybe you'd find it interesting."

  "Are you working on the film crew, Des?"

  Her lips curled into a smirk. "You could say that."

  One of the big guys stepped forward. "Miss Jenkins?"

  "It's okay, Carl. You and Duke can take off."

  Carl shook his head. "Not a good idea."

  She shot him a look. "And I said I'm fine."

  With another serious death glare, the guy named Carl and the other one got into the SUV and drove back down the hill.

  "Are those your bodyguards?"

  She laughed. "Sometimes."

  "So you must be the star of the show."

  She shrugged. "Well, I'm the lead. I don't know about star."

  "What are you doing out here?"

  "Taking a break. And getting some exercise."

  "Not really a gym on-site for you to work out in, is there?"

  "No. This is better. A lot of hills to run in. You must love it here."

  "It's home."

  She leaned against the front of his truck, grabbed the beer from his hand, took a long swallow, and handed it back to him. "Thanks."

  "I don't recall offering it to you."

  She turned to her side. "You're not very friendly, are you, Logan?"

  "I try not to be."

  "Yeah? And why's that?"

  "It keeps people away."

  "Oh, so you don't like people."

  "I didn't say that."

  She laughed, and he liked the gravelly, raspy, sexy sound of it. Which he shouldn't. "Do you have any more of those?" she asked, eyeing his beer.

  "I might."

  When she cocked a brow, he added, "Front passenger floor of the truck. Help yourself."

  She went around and grabbed a beer, bringing him another one, too. "Yours looked about empty." She popped the top and took a long swallow.

  "You sure you're old enough to be drinking those?"

  There went that laugh again. "I'm sure." She gave him a sideways glance. "Are you old enough to be drinking them?"

  "Funny." He popped the top on his and took several long drinks, wondering why the hell he was standing here next to--what was her name again?

  Oh, right. Desiree. Des.

  She leaned next to him, against the truck, and looked out over the valley. "Just how big is this ranch, Logan?"

  "It's pretty big."

  She shot him a look. "Pretend I'm smart and just tell me."

  "It's a little over a forty-five thousand acres."

  "Holy shit. That's a lot. No wonder you could afford to lend us a small piece of the pie."

  "I didn't lend it. I'm renting it to your moviemaking company. Which means I make money. Working a ranch is a costly business."

  "I'm sure it is. Though honestly, I wouldn't know."

  He took another swallow of beer as he studied her. "City girl?"

  "A little of that, and a little country. I've been around. Never lived on a ranch, though."

  "Where are you from?"

  "Just about everywhere."

  "Military?"

  She tilted her head and looked up at him. "What makes you think that?"

  "I don't think anything at all. Just guessing."

  "Good guess. Yeah, my dad was Army. We moved around a lot."

  "So you've seen the world."

  She didn't smile this time. "You could say that."

  "You probably still see a lot of it, being an actress."

  "Sometimes a lot more than I want to." She took a couple sips of her beer and kept her gaze focused below, where the movie was being filmed. And she stopped talking.

  Logan didn't know what to make of Desiree Jenkins. She couldn't be more than in her mid-twenties at best, which put her firmly in the close-to-ten-years-younger-than-him category. Scrubbed of makeup, she looked like a teenager, but there was a worldliness in her eyes that made her seem a lot older.

  She sure was pretty, with her long dark hair and wide eyes that he couldn't quite get a handle on color-wise. Every time she shifted position, so did the color. At first they seemed blue, but now they were more like a brownish green, with little flecks of gold in them.

  "You're staring."

  He frowned. "Huh?"

  "You're staring at me. Do I have dirt on my face?"

  "No. I'm looking at your eyes. The color of them."

  "Oh yeah. My dad told me I had chameleon eyes. I figure they're just hazel, with a little of every color in them. Pretty cool, huh?"

  "Huh. I guess so."

  She leaned back against his truck again. "Not much impresses you, does it, Logan?"

  "Nope." But her eyes did.

  "So tell me about your ranch. What do you do here?"

  "Work."

  "Wow, so descriptive. I'll bet you're a great conversationalist at parties."

  "Don't get to a lot of parties around here."

  "Maybe you don't get invited to a lot of parties."

  "Can't say that breaks my heart any."

  She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, about the ranch?"

  "We work cattle. We also have horses, but they're wild mustangs so we don't mess with them except to feed them in the winter."

  "Okay. Do you raise the cattle for beef?"

  "Yeah."

  "You didn't strike me as a dairy farmer."

  "Really. And what does a typical dairy farmer look like to you?"

  She shrugged. "No idea. Not like you. You're more the rugged, work-the-land type, not the milk-the-cows type."

  He wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment, or whether she'd just insulted dairy farmers. Either way, it was obvious she had no idea what she was talking about. Then again, he didn't know shit about moviemaking. But he wasn't spouting off about it, either.

  "Well, I gotta go."

  She pushed off the truck and handed him her empty beer bottle. "Thanks for the drink. You should come down and watch filming."

  "No, thanks. I'm plenty busy with my own work."

  "You might find what we do interesting."

  "I'm interested enough in what I do."

  She cocked her head to the side, revealing the soft column of her neck. He didn't want to be interested in her neck, but he was. "Afraid you might linger a little too long? Maybe get bitten by the acting bug?"

  He laughed at that. "Uh, no."

  "Then come on down and watch us work."

  Martha would have a fit if he got an invite and he didn't sa
y yes. "My house manager, is a big fan."

  "Bring her down to watch a day of filming. We're doing a big dramatic scene tomorrow. She'd probably love that."

  "She probably would."

  "I'll have to warn you, there's a lot of standing around and waiting in between takes, but I promise you the end result is always worthwhile. What's your housekeeper's name?"

  "Martha."

  "You and Martha come on out to the set. I promise it'll be fun."

  There were a million reasons this wasn't a good idea. But then there was Martha, and he hated the thought of cold sandwiches. "What time?"

  "I'm usually in makeup by six a.m., so we should start shooting by eight."

  "You get up that early? I thought all you movie stars slept 'til noon."

  "Now who's funny? I'll let the crew know you're coming." She lifted her arms over her head, stretched, then kicked off into a run, waving at him. "See you tomorrow, Logan."

  Why the hell he'd agreed to that, he had no idea. He had more than enough to do, and losing a day would put him behind.

  But at least Martha would be happy.

  *

  Des made it back to the film site and ran straight into Theo, her director. "Des. Where'd you run off to?"

  "I took a run to get some exercise. Did you need me for something?"

  "Yes. We need to do a reshoot one of this morning's scenes. I told you not to disappear."

  "Sorry. I'll head over to makeup and hair."

  "Too late now. I've already dismissed the crew for the day and the lighting isn't right. We'll pick it up later." He walked with her as she headed to her trailer. "I wanted to go over tomorrow's scenes with you, though. How about dinner tonight? My trailer?" He put his arm around her shoulder.

  Her skin crawled and she immediately wanted to shrug him off. Theo was a notorious, disgusting, very married womanizer who liked to hit on his leading ladies, especially on location. But he was also a brilliant director, so one had to take the bad with the good. "I need a shower after my run, Theo. And I've already made plans to run lines with Colt over dinner. You're welcome to join us, though. We could knock out discussion about tomorrow's scenes then."

  Theo paused, then shook his head. "No, that's all right. We'll do it in the morning during prep. I'll see you then."

  "Okay. See you tomorrow, Theo."

  She stepped up her pace before Theo came up with any more pervy ideas. "Cornered you, did he?"

  She smiled at Colt Stevens, her costar. "He did. Why weren't you loitering nearby to save me?"

  "Sorry, babe. I was on the phone. I saw Theo hook on to you as soon as you got back on set. Did you have a good run?"

  "I did. Did you have a good phone call?"

  His eyes gleamed. "I did."

  Des looked around to make sure they were alone. "And how is Tony?"

  "Pining away for me, as always. I wish he could be here."

  "I wish he could, too." Des wrapped her arm around Colt's waist. "Why don't you just come out of the closet and be done with it already?"

  They'd reached her trailer. Colt opened the door for her and Des stepped in. Colt followed and shut the door. "Oh, right. Smokin'-hot movie star who gets all the sexy roles comes out as gay."

  Des shrugged. "So? It's the twenty-first century, Colt. And you kiss better than any leading man I've ever worked with. I doubt any of your future leading ladies would be deterred."

  Colt sat on her sofa, stretching out his long legs. "Thanks, babe. Tony thinks so, too."

  She laughed. "Seriously, though. We have chemistry through the roof and it shows on-screen. If you can pull that off, who cares who you love offscreen?"

  "Well, I sure don't. And you don't. And probably most of America doesn't give a shit, either. But my management team does care. And they say no to coming out."

  She plopped onto the sofa next to him. "I'm sorry. You should be able to live your life freely and not have to parade around with a bunch of women you don't care about while Tony is stuck loving you behind the scenes."

  Colt let out a sigh. "I know, love. But it is what it is, and I guess it's going to stay that way for a while. Maybe someday we'll be able to change that."

  She pushed off and stood. "Hopefully sooner rather than later. I want you to be happy."

  "I want you to be happy, too."

  She gave him a smile. "I am happy. I'm living my dream here."

  "Sure you are."

  "Did you get dinner ordered?"

  "Should be here in about fifteen."

  "Pop open a bottle of wine for us, then. I'm going to hop in the shower."

  Des stripped and got into the shower, washing away the body makeup from the day's scenes and the sweat from her run. She thought about Colt. They'd known each other since before either of them had even gotten their first part in film, when they'd bunked together in a one-bedroom apartment in Hollywood. They'd become fast friends and had stayed that way. She'd found out right away that Colt was gay--hard to hide that kind of thing from your best friend and roommate. And when they'd started getting roles, they'd bonded and supported each others' careers. Fortunately, they'd also been lucky enough to score roles in films together. Which, of course, made love scenes sometimes awkward to film, because as close friends, it was hard to play lovers. But they were professionals and they were actors. And because they were so close, they had a natural chemistry that lent itself well to the camera, so they worked at using that chemistry. They were comfortable together and lit up the screen. They were often linked together in the gossip circles, which Colt found hysterical.

  So did Des. She didn't mind bearding for him, and often went out to premieres and to dinner with him to give him a cover when he didn't feel like playing the role of a straight guy with some other woman.

  Until she'd met James and had started a relationship with him.

  Which had recently gone up in flames. But she wasn't going to think about him any more. He'd already wasted enough of her time. She was never going to have a relationship with another actor.

  Now she was free to hook up with Colt again. At least on the surface.

  She got out of the shower and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top. The smell of dinner made her stomach clench. She was hungry, so she hurriedly combed out her hair and went into the main room of the trailer, where Colt was laying out forks and plates.

  "Chinese food?"

  "Yeah."

  "All that salt. I love looking puffy in front of the camera."

  Colt grinned. "You couldn't look puffy if you tried. Sit down and eat."

  They ate, sipped wine, and roughed out tomorrow's scenes in between bites.

  "I met Logan McCormack, the owner of the ranch, today," she said as she grabbed a fortune cookie.

  "Yeah? What's he like?"

  "Incredibly sexy, in a brooding, loner cowboy sort of way."

  "Really. Would I like him?"

  She laughed. "I think you'd love him. And Tony would kill you."

  "Hey, I'm devoted and madly in love and you know that. Doesn't mean I can't ogle."

  "I invited him to the set. He said his house manager is a big fan, so he's going to bring her tomorrow."

  "Hmm."

  She looked at Colt. "Hmm what?"

  "You're interested. Now I really can't wait to meet him."

  "I didn't say I was interested in him, only that he was interesting."

  "Same thing, isn't it?"

  "Not at all." She cracked open her fortune cookie and popped a piece into her mouth as she unfolded the fortune and read it.

  Your life is about to change in new and exciting ways.

  She'd believe that when it happened.

  Straddling the Line

  "Haven's in trouble."

  Those were words Trevor Shay never wanted to hear, especially not less than a year after the death of Haven's dad, Bill.

  Bill Briscoe had been more than just a dorm parent back in Trevor's college days. He and his wife, Ginger, had been like s
ubstitute parents, especially to Trevor, who'd needed guidance more than the rest.

  And now he sat in Ginger's living room, in a house he'd once thought of as his second home.

  Trevor had always counted on Ginger's confidence, that smile and optimism that had assured him everything was going to be all right.

  Now she just looked worried.

  He picked up her hand. "What's wrong?"

  "She hasn't been herself since Bill died. You know Haven. She's always been upbeat, and we thought she'd come to grips with the eventuality of Bill's death." Ginger took a deep breath. "As we all did."

  Trevor squeezed her hand.

  "It wasn't like we didn't know it was comin'. Bill prepared us all for it, made sure we were ready. Never thinking of himself."

  He saw the tears welling in her eyes and wished he could take them away. "I know, Miss Ginger. I know. I miss him, too."

  She grabbed a tissue. "He'd kick my butt if he saw me crying over him. But Haven, she has a great life and an amazing future. She got a job with the network as a sports journalist."

  Trevor smiled. "I heard about that."

  "It's a great opportunity for her. One she should be seizing. I told her that her father would be so proud of her."

  "He would."

  "Instead, what is she doing? She's thinking about quitting the job and coming back here to live with me."

  Trevor leaned back and frowned. "Coming back here? Why?"

  "I don't know. She said something about getting a job at the local TV station instead."

  "Is that what she really wants?"

  "I don't think so." Ginger leaned forward. "Trevor, I don't know what to do. She hasn't even given this new job a shot. I think she's scared, and without her dad, she feels alone for the first time in her life."

  "She's not alone, Miss Ginger. She has you."

  "I know that. And believe me, I don't feel slighted in the least. I know Haven loves me. I also know she's worried about me being here all alone. I don't want her to make a mistake and screw up the best job she might ever have because of me, and because of her fear."

  She paused, took a breath. "I was hoping you could offer me some advice, tell me what I could say to her to make her stay in her job."

  Trevor thought about it a minute. "Let me see what I can do about that."

  "Thank you. I know you're big in the sports world, and I don't know if there really is anything you can do for her, but gosh, I'd sure appreciate anything. Anything at all."

  An idea formed in his head. He had the pull. He could get this done. And he'd do anything for Ginger, and to honor Bill's memory. Haven needed help, and he sure as hell was in a position to help her.

  Hours later, as he sat on the plane on his way back to St. Louis, Trevor had the plan formulated. The media were constantly hounding him for an expose on his life and career. After all, there weren't many athletes who played multiple sports. At least not many who played them well. He'd been closed off to the idea of it for a lot of reasons.