Seduced and Betrayed (14 page)

It wasn't secret, of course. Everyone on the set knew they were seeing each other. The studio bosses knew; the TV execs from
Family Fortune
knew; her mother knew. Even the teen movie magazines were hinting that "television's sweet little Chrissy Fortune" might finally, actually have a real boyfriend. But no one, she thought, knew their relationship had become so intimate. Not for sure—although her mother had been very vocal with her suspicions.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Zeke asked, breaking into her thoughts. "You're not eating. Isn't the sandwich any good? Would you like some of my pastrami?"

Ariel put her sandwich down, giving up even the pretense of eating. It wasn't sitting very well in her stomach, anyway. "I'm just not hungry, I guess."

"Are you upset about something?" He leaned forward, peering into her face over the candlelight. "Has your mother been on your case again about seeing me?"

"Not any more than usual."

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing, really. I just feel..." She shrugged. "I don't know. Sad, somehow." And uncertain. So desperately uncertain of where she stood with him.

Zeke nodded as if he understood perfectly. "It's the letdown because the filming is over. I feel it, too, a little," he consoled her. "It's probably a pretty normal reaction. But I have a surefire cure." He gave her a sweet, sexy leer and began gathering up the remains of their picnic supper. "You just trust yourself to ol' Dr. Blackstone," he said, wriggling his eyebrows at her as he moved the candles to the top of the ice chest where they'd be out of harm's way, "and I'll have you feeling more cheerful in no time." He reached out and grasped her by the shoulders, tumbling her onto her back on the sleeping bag.

But, for once, the sight of Zeke leaning over her, his eyes all dark and smoldering and hungry, failed to ignite an answering spark in her.

"Hey, you really are blue, aren't you?" He let go of her and rolled over onto his back. Stretching out to his full length on the floor of the van, he dug one hand into the tight front pocket of his jeans. "Here." He sat up and picked her hand up in his. "Maybe this will cheer you up," he said, pressing something into her palm.

It was a small velvet-covered box. Ariel's heart began to pound. She sat up and very carefully, very slowly, held her hands so that the flickering light of the candles shone on the box as she opened it. It was a ring, a small but exquisite sapphire, surrounded by tiny diamonds. She looked up, her gaze shifting from the ring to his face and back again. Did he mean it to be an engagement ring? Or something else entirely?

"I know it's not much," he said defensively, obviously misinterpreting her unbelieving gaze. "But it's all I can afford right now. We can exchange it for a bigger one later if you—"

Ariel licked her lips. "Are you
proposing
to me?" she asked carefully.

Zeke gave her an exasperated look. "What the hell else do you think I'd be doing, giving you a ring? Of course, I'm proposing to you." He took the box away from her and plucked the ring out, holding it in two fingers. "Do you want it or not?"

"Oh, Zeke."

"Is that a yes?"

"Oh, Zeke."

"I'll take that as a yes," he decided and slipped the ring onto her finger.

"Oh,
Zeke,"
she said again, and threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over.

He pushed her back down onto the sleeping bag and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

She ignited instantly this time, bursting into full flame in a matter of seconds. "Make love to me," she demanded, yanking open the metal buttons on his jeans. "Make love to me right now."

It was the first sexually aggressive move she'd ever made toward him and Zeke responded to it the way any healthy, red-blooded, twenty-two-year-old male might be expected to respond. He reached for the zipper on her little white bell-bottoms, pulled it down and peeled her out of her pants so fast it was a wonder she didn't get fabric burns on her thighs. As he reached for the hem of her baby blue sweater, intending to drag it off over her head, she slipped her hand inside his jeans and gently squeezed him.

Zeke nearly hit the ceiling of the van. "Good God Almighty," he breathed.
"Ariel"

"Now, Zeke," she demanded breathlessly. "Right now."

He let go of the sweater and rushed to obey her, pushing his jeans and underpants down just far enough to let his erection spring free. She opened her thighs as he lifted himself over her, shamelessly exposing the urgency of her need. He plunged himself in to the hilt, entering her without caution or restriction. Her hips rolled against his convulsively, pleading and demanding at the same time. He thrust deeply, and then thrust again, and the ride to completion began. It was wild. Unrestrained. Hot. And very, very brief. Ariel climaxed with a fierce, sharp cry of feminine triumph and Zeke followed her barely a second later, his shout of satisfaction coming so close upon hers that it sounded as if they came from a single throat.

The recovery took longer than the act itself. They lay, still joined together, listening to each other breathe as they struggled to come back to reality.

"I guess I should propose more often," Zeke said and she could hear the humor and pleasure in his deep voice.

"I don't know what came over me," she whispered, a bit embarrassed now that the urgency was past.

"Whatever it was, I hope it happens again. And again." Zeke lifted his head and kissed her. "And again. It'll probably kill me, but I'll die happy." He rolled off her, turning onto his back, and pulled her on top of him. "Damn, we're going to make a great team!" he said, smiling up into her face. "We'll take this town by storm."

"Team?"

"Like Bogie and Bacall, Tracy and Hepburn, Gable and Lombard. The names Blackstone and Cameron on a marquee will sell tickets by the millions. We'll have our pick of all the best scripts, the best directors, the best everything."

Ariel pushed herself up onto her hands to look down at him. "You want us to act together again?" she said carefully.

"You heard what Hans said. We're going be box office magic."

Ariel wriggled off him and sat up, folding her legs under her so that she was perched on her knees beside him. Was that what his marriage proposal was all about? A ploy to make sure they'd be working together again? She hated herself for even thinking it but...

"I can only make movies when
Family Fortune
is on summer hiatus," she said, to test him. "And the network execs have some say on what roles I can take."

"Your contract is up at the end of this season," he reminded her, "so the network bigwigs won't have any say for much longer."

"Unless we renew. My mother's in the middle of negotiations with them right now. She's my agent, you know."

"She doesn't have to be," he said easily. "I'm sure my agent would be more than happy to represent you."

"My mother's managed my career since I shot my first breakfast cereal commercial when I was four years old," Ariel said, looking down at her engagement ring as she spoke. Her mood was now pensive and almost... regretful. It was such a beautiful ring. "And she's done a great job."

"Up until now, sure," Zeke countered, reaching up to tuck a trailing lock of blond hair behind her ear. "But I don't think she understands that you're beyond breakfast food commercials and silly sitcoms now."

Ariel went very still. "That silly sitcom has been one of the top-ten rated shows on TV for the last seven years."

"Granted. But it's not going to go two more. You know that, sweetheart," he said cajolingly. "You've said so yourself."

"Maybe so." Ariel reached around behind her for her panties and bell-bottoms as she spoke and drew them onto her lap, half-consciously seeking to cover and protect herself. "But I owe everyone on the show those two years. I owe my mother those two years, too."

There was a long moment of charged silence. "And what about what you owe me?"

"And what do I owe you?"

"I'm the man you just agreed to marry, for Christ's sake!" He yanked his jeans up and jackknifed to a sitting position. "I'd think the answer to that would be obvious."

"I guess I'm a little thick." Ariel pressed her lips together and willed herself not to cry. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"I'd say you owe me at least the same consideration you owe your mother and the people you work with."

"And what about what you owe me?" she asked quietly. "What about understanding my point of view? And my career goals?"
What about love?
she wanted to ask, realizing, at that moment, that he hadn't said the word at any time during his proposal to her. He hadn't said the word at all, not since the very first time they'd made love. She held her breath, waiting for him... willing him... to say it now.

"Oh, hell, Ariel, this is ridiculous. We shouldn't be talking about owing each other anything." He reached out and grasped her shoulders in his hands. "Two people in love aren't supposed to think about what they owe each other. That isn't the way it works."

There,
she told herself,
he said the word.

So why didn't she believe it?

"I do love you, sweetheart," he said, as if he sensed her disbelief. "You must know that. I guess the question is, do you love me?"

"You know I do," she whispered achingly, "but..."

His hands tightened on her shoulders. "But what?"

"I don't th..." She took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't think we should be engaged right now. Not... not formally," she said, hurrying through it as the thunderclouds formed on his face. "We can be engaged secretly but—"

"Secretly,"
he spat out, and pushed her away from him.

She fell backward, onto her hands. She used the motion to shift her legs around to the front so she could pull her pants on.

"I've had just about all the so-called secrecy I can stomach," he hissed. "Hell, it's not as if your mother doesn't already know about us. Or anyone who was on the set of
Wild Hearts,
for that matter. Our relationship stopped being a secret about two days after it started."

"But nobody knows the whole truth about us," she said as she yanked up the zipper on her bell-bottoms. "Nobody knows we're—"

"—sleeping together, is that it? Nobody knows and you don't want anybody to know, do you? Are you that ashamed of the fact that American's sweetheart is actually having sex? Or is it me? Are you ashamed of me, Ariel?"

"No. No, I'm not ashamed." But she was, in a way. Not of Zeke, but of the fact that she was having sex at all. And unsanctified sex, at that. It might have been the era of women's liberation and sexual freedom but Ariel was scarcely a child of her times. She'd been under her mother's thumb for too long, protected from the turmoil and change of the sixties in the unreal worlds of Beverly Hills and a studio sound stage.

Add to that her doubts about Zeke's true feelings for her and his ability to be faithful—doubts that were actively encouraged by her mother—and was it any wonder she was confused and uncertain?

"It's just that I... that I have an image to protect, that's all," she said finally, falling back on the line her mother had been spoon-feeding her since she was old enough to understand what the phrase meant.

"An image to protect!"

"It would just be until the new contracts were signed," she said, trying to placate him. "Once they're signed, it won't matter and we can announce our engagement."

"It won't matter—" he began furiously, and then stopped.

Ariel waited, watching him pull himself together. It took several long moments, several deep breaths, while he sat there with his hands on his thighs, his eyes closed. When he opened them again, they were clear and direct—and furious.

"I was hoping we could announce our engagement at the wrap party on Friday night," he said in a deceptively calm voice. "But if we can't—" he shrugged "—well, then, I'd rather not announce it at all. Ever."

Chapter 8

Zeke managed to drive sedately through the quiet streets of Beverley Hills after he left Ariel's house, deliberately keeping to the speed limit and not tearing through the gears and laying rubber as he undoubtedly would have done twenty-five years ago. But his hands on the wheel were white-knuckled and the muscle in his jaw flexed as he clenched and unclenched his teeth in a vain attempt to bite back the raw emotion surging through him.