“Unreasonable to you, maybe.”
“Tell me why it’s reasonable to you.”
“You’ve worked in this business a while now. You must realize that it’s common for makeup artists to avoid actors and actresses. There’s often a clash between us.”
“That’s a lame reason to judge people without knowing them.”
“But why did you have to mislead me when it came to the scholarship? I felt like an idiot when Rill happened to mention that the blazing comet of the film business—Gia Harris—was a recipient of his scholarship.”
“Is that what this is really all about? You don’t like having the wool pulled over your eyes? Ex-intelligence operative and Hollywood special effects–artist bigwig doesn’t like being out of the loop.”
“Nobody likes being misled. Why should it have mattered if I took a dislike to you that night?”
She made a sound of bitter disgust and crossed her arms above her waist. “You are such an idiot,” she breathed out as she turned away from him, mutely staring out at the stark desert landscape.
He simmered in the silence for the next several minutes, undoubtedly grinding some enamel off his back teeth. Curse him for having the idea of driving to Illinois. True, he thought it was a better idea for security, but the memory of Gia lighting up as she’d told him about the cross-country trip when she’d been sixteen might have nudged his decision a little, as well.
Nothing good ever came from being sentimental.
Gia lowered her seat to a full reclining position. When she squirmed to get comfortable, while still keeping her back stubbornly to him, his attention was caught. She’d scooted up the chair and pulled her knees up onto the seat. The seat belt lowered over her hips, the seat strap pressing against her loose, low riding jeans and cupping her ass.
As if a guy would ever have an ass like that. Arousal tickled the root of his cock. She wiggled impatiently, still struggling for a comfortable position. This time, lust roared instead of whimpered. He hardened with vigor.
With effort, he jerked his gaze off the appealing sight of her ass.
This trip with Gia was going to be a trial all right. In more ways than one.
* * *
Maybe she slept. He thought she did, not only because of her stillness but also because the anger and tension that had seemed to pulse in the air between them seemed to slowly dissipate. Seth started to feel guilty for taking his irritation out on her. He didn’t want to reveal his frustration; it just seemed to pop out of him at times.
Best to face the fact. His sexual attraction to Gia Harris had been—and still was—uncommonly strong. He’d been more disappointed than he’d cared to admit when he discovered she was something different than he’d been led to expect that night years ago. He’d thought her a fresh, sexy surprise, one of those moments in life when you think, Jesus, what did I do to deserve something like this? Realizing she was a twenty-two-year-old ingénue with the flame of fame burning bright within her had made him more bitter than he already was.
And he’d been pretty damned cynical on the topic even then.
But Gia wasn’t the one responsible for his original jadedness when it came to actresses. She didn’t deserve the weight of his experience
and history.
Admitting that made him feel steadier. Almost as if the landscape were mimicking his calming mood, they entered the environs of Flagstaff. He turned the heat on to low as the temperature plummeted in the refreshing mountain oasis. Gia squirmed a little in the seat next to him and turned over on her other hip, facing him. Her lip paint had nearly faded away. She yawned widely, the glimpse of her pink, full lips and red mouth making him want to stare at her instead of the road. For a full moment, he sensed her studying his profile, but neither of them spoke. He felt it for the first time since that night two years ago, that ephemeral, magical spell settling on his tingling skin.
“Where are we?” she murmured sleepily, her low, smooth voice causing his forearms and neck to roughen.
“The outskirts of Flagstaff. Do you need a break?” he glanced at her as he came to a stop at a light. It had grown overcast as he wound up the mountains to Flagstaff. He’d taken off his sunglasses, and so had she. Her eyes were like a clear spring day.
“Yes, please. I’m sorry I called you an idiot,” she added quietly.
He nodded. “I’m sorry for getting irritated at you for something that happened a long time ago.”
Her gaze flickered over his face. She started to speak but then hesitated.
“What?” he prodded.
“It doesn’t really seem like a long time ago,” she murmured.
“No. It doesn’t,” he agreed, studying the sublime curve of her jaw and the sweet target of her mouth.
A horn honked loudly. He cursed and drove through the green light. Neither of them spoke for the time it took him to pull into the parking lot of a roadside log-cabin restaurant and gas station that had Route 66 memorabilia and signs plastered all over it. The charged atmosphere didn’t dissipate though. He whipped the SUV into an empty spot at the side of the building. Slowly, he twisted the keys in the ignition.