Wicked Dirty (Stark World 2)

"Why not?"

"Because I'm one of the lucky ones. I made it."

I frown, trailing my finger over the stacks of plays. "Shouldn't that give you more freedom?"

"The concept of making it is relative, I guess. I'm in the top tier, that's true. But there's still a mountain to climb."

I try to process everything he's saying but something feels off. There's a dog-eared, coffee-stained screenplay on the coffee table, and I pick it up, just to have something to idly hold. Arizona Spring.

I clutch it, then I walk to the windows, trying to figure out what's bugging me. But it's not until I sit in the chair by

the window and start flipping through the screenplay that my thoughts start to coalesce.

"Is this a movie they're trying to get you to do?"

He nods, coming closer, but staying a few feet away from me, just on the other side of the coffee table.

"Are you going to do it?"

"No," he says, as I continue to turn pages, noticing his markings throughout.

"Because the script needs so much work?"

"Actually, the script is excellent. There's so much room to develop the character, and I've been making notes and--"

He cuts himself off sharply. "It doesn't matter. It's going into production soon, and I have three more Blue Zenith movies in the pipe."

"And you said those are good scripts, too."

"They are," he says, and I know him well enough now to know that he means it. But I also can tell from his voice that the scripts aren't as good as Arizona Spring.

This whole conversation isn't ringing right for me, but it's not worth worrying about now. Not when the city lights are glowing with romance beyond the window and the man I've fallen in love with has asked me to stay the night.

"Hey," I say, holding out my hand for him. "I like this chair. It's got a spectacular view and room enough for two. I'm thinking you should join me."

"Why don't you come over here with me on the couch." He takes a step backward. "More room to stretch out," he adds, with an enticing edge to his voice.

I have to admit it's tempting. But still...

"I don't know..." I go to the window, pressing my hands and forehead to the glass as I look out at the city lights, twinkling like stars in the darkness below, as if we're looking down from the heavens.

"You're the one who enticed me here with this view," I tease. "I'm thinking maybe you should come over here right now." I shift my focus so that I can see his reflection. "You can't make me believe you've never made love in front of a high-rise window."

"Believe it," he says, and there's such an edge to his voice that I turn around, confused and a little worried.

"Lyle?"

"I'm really not crazy about heights. I told you at Disney."

"Oh." I process that. "I thought it was the drop that got to you. Not the altitude. But then ... well ... why did you do go on the ride? For that matter," I add, "why have a chair near these windows? Why have this condo at all? Why get your pilot's license?"

He looks surprised, and I shrug. "I told you. I Googled you. Why didn't you tell me?"

"No point. I only take her up to keep my license."

I shake my head, confused. "I don't get any of this. Why?"

"I like to face my fears."