Malibu Betrayals (11 page)

“Addison Dekker.” Her dad grimaced. “Too far.”

Sam stepped in front of Gage, separating him from her sister’s lascivious grin. “Addi, no matter how funny you think you are, Dad will never want to hear you say the words, ‘sloppy seconds.’ Ever.”

Mr. Dekker groaned, and Dee put her hands over his ears and kissed his cheeks.

Gage grinned. He’d been doing a lot of that since they’d shown up. He liked this feeling. His dad and sister would, too. Wouldn’t that be perfect?

“Save your lusty little ideas for your books.” Sam walked into the kitchen and wrapped her arm around her mother. “Addison is a Corporate America survivor turned romance writer. We’re really proud.”

“Wow, that’s great. Anything I might have seen?”

Addi dove into the new subject, her gaze shifting from one parent to the next. “Not yet. But you will.”

He was missing something, but he wasn’t sure what.

Dee moved next to her youngest and smoothed her long blond hair. “She’s finished her second novel and is now working on her third. Both finished manuscripts are off to editors and agents. We’re very proud of her. If we could only get her to move back home and let us take care of her until she gets a contract.”

Addison leaned into her mother’s hand. “Thanks, Mom, but I can take care of myself. Besides, I love Aunt Addi’s bungalow.”

“But, honey—”

Luca barged into the conversation. “You can’t even make your own bed, much less take care of a house on your own. Poor Aunt Addi’s place is going to fall apart.”

Sam’s sister narrowed her eyes and grabbed the wine Luca was about to sip. “If I’m so helpless, go pour another glass.”

Gage watched, fascinated. The independent streak with the two sisters was a study in psychology. Sam’s was from not being taken care of enough, where her sister’s appeared to stem from being taken care of too much.

He imagined her parents had wondered where that little girl went once she’d married Ethan. As dinner progressed, however, they never said a word. Not a mention of his name, the incident, or anything related to it. Apparently, Sam’s strategy had worked. Her family avoided talking about Ethan or sharing their opinions of him for fear of driving her away again. He didn’t think they saw her absence as a means to protect herself, but rather a stubborn declaration that her life was her life.

He wondered if Sam saw that.

Gage smiled at Addi. “My sister gets annoyed with me, too.”

Luca piped up. “Sister? What does she do?”

Gage eyed the man for a moment. A big brother habit. “She’s a professor at Pepperdine. Education and psychology.”

Luca thought for a moment. “Pepperdine? I attended Pepperdine.” Silent once more, he stared at Gage. “Cutler, no way. You’re not related to DC are you? Dean Cutler?”

Gage took a bite of his tortellini and nodded. “Yep, he’s my dad.”

“No shit?” Luca shook his head.

“What, honey?” Dee placed her hand over her son’s.

Luca shook his head. “Dean Cutler was one of my professors. Not only that, he’s responsible for getting me my job. Without his recommendation, I wouldn’t have made it. Too competitive. He gave me the edge I needed. Had the connections.” Sam’s brother grinned ear to ear. “Oh, Mom, you’ll like DC.”

“As long as it benefits me like Gage’s movies do.” Mr. Dekker waggled his eyebrows and ogled his wife, tickling her side. Dee slapped his hand away with a chuckle.

Sam threw her hands out. “Oh my God, Dad.”

Her mother spoke up. “Honey, when you brings friends like Gage along, what do you expect?”

“You all to behave,” Sam said, her voice strained.

Gage threw his arm around Sam, with a teasing shake. “I’ll take the misbehavin’ any day.”

“Like I said, he’ll fit in just fine,” Mr. Dekker said.

Gage winked at Sam and then tilted his head toward her dad. “I hear you’re good friends with Martin Gallagher. He and my dad just started meeting for scotch tastings now and again. You’d probably enjoy yourself.”

Sam’s father grunted, interest in his eyes. “Ya don’t say? I’ll call Martin.”

Sam whispered under her breath, “That’s all I need.”

Gage patted her hand under the table, and she stuck her tongue out at him, her lips quivering up at the corner, unable to resist the humor in it all.

Family could be terrifying, but when they truly loved one of their own, failure didn’t exist, loneliness never stood a chance, and hiding wasn’t an option. He could be that for Sam; he would be.

Turning his head from side to side, he cracked his neck.

He’d made his decision a long time ago. Now he just needed to be patient and put each piece into action. He’d be damned if he’d ever let her walk away. She simply needed to see how well they could work.

And he was just the man to show her.

Chapter Eleven

Sam opened her eyes, heavy from a deep night’s sleep. The weight of Gage’s arm thrown across her stomach was warm and comforting. She felt so good she was compelled to squirm—just a bit—to see if it was real.

She turned her head toward Gage. His lashes lay dark against his skin, his expression relaxed. Worry-free. Contentment pulled a sigh from her. She liked to see him this way. Unguarded. Sleeping. In her bed. Her eyes widened and she slid out from under his warm embrace.

No, no, no. Gage in my bed is not something I need to get used to.
If he only he wasn’t so damn good at being in it.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, she raked her gaze over him. His shoulders extended beyond the width of the king pillow, a bronzed mass of muscles. The spray of dark hair that shadowed his chest beckoned her fingers to run through the texture of springy softness over smooth flesh. A much different physique than Ethan’s slight, toned frame.

Ethan was not the man she’d led herself to believe he was. He’d been ill, and the illness wasn’t anything she could ever wrap her head around. She hadn’t wanted to fail, so denial had become her best friend, but it was time to allow for her mistake and admit that Ethan had been no man.

Not like Gage.

She shot up.

Chilled, Sam grabbed her robe and slid her arms into the softness. She belted it, tight and secure like a shield, as she walked out to the kitchen. No more thinking. Coffee.

She rummaged around the kitchen and set up a tray of coffee, bacon, and fresh strawberries. Tray in hand, she opened her balcony doors, inviting the morning breeze into her home. She turned back to the living room and placed the tray on the coffee table separating two sofas and then settled onto one. Her beach didn’t boast the security Gage’s did. Only a few yards of sand left nowhere for paparazzi to hide, but they’d tried.

After Ethan’s accident and the barrage of tabloid hype, they’d hounded the two of them day and night. Taking pictures of their windows and speculating on making love to a monster, hounding her at premiers and accusing her for Ethan not being at her side. A few even tried to scale her back patio to get pictures of his disfigured face, but fortunately, mirrored windows let them see out but no one to see in. Ethan had become so obsessed with what they’d reported about his face, he’d refused to take any clients.

The onslaught never really ended, and then when he committed suicide, it had increased intensity ten-fold. Murder in Malibu had been a hot topic they salivated over. She couldn’t even go to the grocery store or pick up coffee down at the Country Mart without camera flashes blinding her and accusations hurled in her face.

She blinked away the memories, and her appreciation of the empty beach chased the coldness away, the waves greeting her with a gentle melodic rhythm. Sam pulled in a breath, and leaning back, sipped her coffee and then sighed.

She’d had fun yesterday. Her family adored Gage as she knew they would, and if it were possible she liked him even more after how sweet he was with her mother and sister. She about died at their teasing, but Gage soaked it up and gave some back. What was she going to do with him? And wasn’t that the problem?

Switching gears, she tried to analyze her reaction to the neighbor in the garage, but she didn’t want to think about what had really gone through her head when the woman touched him. She can’t remember ever really wanting to run anyone over before, but in that moment, she’d have done it. Twice.

“Can I join you?” Gage sunk onto the sofa that paralleled hers and reached for the cup of coffee that awaited him. He took a swallow and raised his mug before looking at her. “Thank you. What a nice way to wake up, though I can think of one better.” He winked.

Heat rose to her cheeks. Seriously, after last night how could he even suggest it? If a marathon for lovemaking existed, they’d have swept the gold. She abhorred the thought that hanging out with her family had been some kind of foreplay, but barely touching him all night, watching what she said, had driven her mad. She couldn’t wait to get him back to her place.

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes as the corners of her lips turned up. And that was another thing. He always said thank you. Any time she did something for him, they were the first words passing his lips. It was all so new to her.

“Come over here.” Gage spread his legs, covered in a light-weight pair of sweats, and patted the cushion between his thighs.

Golden light and shadows alternated across his broad chest as she moved toward him. She loved how low his sweats hung from his hips. The skin just above the band begged to be tasted.
Geesh. I’m no better than he is
.

She closed her patio doors and pushed the button to open the top panels near the ceiling and then snuggled back against his firm frame. He shifted until she rested at an angle that allowed her to still enjoy her coffee.

He slid a bright red strawberry against her lower lip, and she opened her mouth. She bit half, and as she chewed, he popped the other in his own mouth. Next came a piece of bacon, and they continued to share the food until nothing remained on the tray, save an empty plate.

“This is my new favorite breakfast.”

Sam could feel the rumble of his voice against her back. He pulled her against him tighter still and rested his chin on her shoulder next to her ear. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” His gaze focused on the blue undulating horizon.

“It is one reason I never moved.” A few moments of quiet passed. “They really liked you. Thank you for going with me.”

He pulled her back tighter to his chest. “I really liked them. Your sister is hilarious, and your mom? I can see where you get your spurts of feisty from.”

She pinched his arm playfully.

“They’re so happy. Always laughing, it’s awesome to be around couples like that.”

She nodded, thinking of how much fun she and Gage always had. The bottom of her coffee mug in sight, she set it on the table beside them and then wrapped Gage’s arms about her waist. God, he felt good, which was not good at all, but she snuggled in anyway.

Her feelings for him had all the markers for something more serious, much deeper than a fling. She tensed and then turned her head just enough to see his face. He rested with his eyes closed, a look of contentment on his relaxed face. She closed her eyes briefly and then stared back out at the tossing waves. Confusing herself was one thing, but confusing him wasn’t fair at all.

…

Sam stood on the film set, heat rushing to her hairline. “What?”

“He doesn’t think you hit the mark.” Martin Gallagher shook his head, confusion furrowing his brows. “I have to agree.”

A bitter taste filled her mouth. She didn’t hit the mark? They wanted organic; she gave them organic. They wanted a true intimate expression of the character, and she gave it to them, using the best of what Gage had to offer.

“
Gage
said that? He really isn’t accepting my work?”

“It’s not so much not accepting as it is needing you to fix it. “

She’d delivered some of her best work yet, the sex scene Martin had asked for specifically, so how the hell was there anything to fix? “But I did.”

Gage walked up and Martin gave a sigh that Sam could only imagine was relief. Coward.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t take criticism, but her work was spot-on to the needs of the scenes. How could she have been so wrong? When she’d turned her work in, she’d been positive they were going to love it.

She spun on him, the screenplay held out in her hand. Her voice low and not a little bewildered, she grated, “Are you serious? This is damn good work.” Ethan’s voice mocked her with echoes from the past.
Come on, Sam, there are plenty of writers out there more experienced than you. I wouldn’t hang your hat on this career, honey.

Gage put his hands up. “Hey, wait a second.” Surprise lit his eyes.

“Wait a second? Gage, this is some of my best writing yet.” Her stomach twisted.

The man she’d she thought she knew so well cocked a patronizing brow. “Your best? Really?”

She nailed Martin with a look, who for the first time in her experience looked lost, and back at Gage, who stared down at the script in his hand like it was the plague.

She took it from his hand. “Let me see that.”

She flipped the pages open to one of the changes she felt held the most impact. “Look at this.” Her finger slid down the page until it stilled about halfway. She glanced down at the page and then made a face and jerked back. “What the hell? These aren’t my changes.”

Martin’s head shot up. “What?”

Sam pressed her lips together and shook her head. “These are
not
my changes.”

Gage put his hand out, a half smile of concern lifting the corner of his mouth. “Sam.”

She rolled her eyes and dug into her bag. She pulled out her script and shoved it toward the two men. “Take it.”

Broad shoulder to broad shoulder, the two men bent their heads and read from her screenplay. Low grumbles and grunts joined the hum of the working cast and crew on the set. Martin pointed to a spot on the page and Gage nodded. Gage counter-pointed, and her mentor dipped his chin.

Gage looked up. “This
is
brilliant.”

The tension fled Sam’s gut, leaving her dizzy. Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded. “
That
is my work.”

Martin tapped the other screenplay, his brows raised. “Then what is
this
?”

Sam stared at the offending object and then flipped through to the area she’d worked on, and recoiled in a combination of humor and horror. “
This
is awful. Why would you think it was my work?”

Her mentor looked at Gage and then back at Sam. He rubbed his hand up and over his sparsely covered dome. “That’s why we were so confused, girl!” His voice was harsh and tinged with embarrassment. “I asked for the intimate scene, and this is what we got back. Why would we think it wasn’t yours?”

Sam paced, smacking the script in her hand. Her pulse raced. She wanted to be sick. She spun to face the men. “Who would do this?”

Anger raced through her like it had a deadline. She didn’t know which was worse, someone screwing with her writing, or her immense relief that Gage believed her. His opinion shouldn’t matter. She knew the quality of her work.

“More to the point, why?” Gage stepped in front of her and settled his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs pushing into her tense muscles.

Sam let him work the knots out of her shoulders. Anyone would need comforting in a situation like this, but the truth was he comforted her better than anyone else could. Closing her eyes, she counted backward from ten. Her shoulders slumped, Sam lifted her lids to look at Gage. Tears stung and she blinked to hold them at bay. “
This
is why I hate Hollywood.”

Martin stepped forward. “Sam, don’t be ridiculous.”

She slowly raised her hand to stop the older man and then directed her focus back to Gage. He stood very still, his eyes blank. If it weren’t for the rhythmical clenching in his jaw, she wouldn’t have been sure he’d heard her. But he had. Good. That was good. She needed a little distance, a little space. So much had changed from a few weeks ago, and she needed to breathe and catch up.

Sam ticked her evidence off on her fingers in weary acceptance. “The magazine on my desk and now my work?” she whispered. “My work?”

Sam bit her lip, tossing the script onto the work surface behind Martin. “I need to get out of here.”

Gage stepped forward, his eyes filled with concern. “Sam.”

Martin shot her a disappointed look. “Let her go.”

Sadness drummed through her in slow, steady beats. She turned from the two men, crossed the set, and escaped through the opened front door.

Stress tightened against her skull like a vice. Gage wasn’t at fault, nor would she ever expect him to approve anything but the best of her work. The simple truth, the truth she knew all along, still remained. Being with Gage made her a target.

She’d suffered in front of that firing squad enough already.

Sam made her way to her condo, changed into her suit, and raced out her patio to the beach in record time. Dropping her bag on the sand at the base of the deck stairs, she toed off her flip-flops. The midday sun had warmed the tiny grains, and she sunk her toes in with a sigh. She’d been wanting to get back into the water. There was nothing a swim in the ocean couldn’t wash away.

Sam edged her way to the water, stepping around stones and driftwood. When the surf washed up and lapped at her ankles, she stopped and sucked in a big breath, blinking back tears. The problem wasn’t Gage; it was Hollywood, but the two went hand in hand, and that wasn’t about to change. Temptation was everywhere, with every job, every movie, and every film promotion. She’d never be able to handle it if he cheated, to have a second man cheat on her, so why put herself in a situation that would risk it? Divorce rates among celebrities ran close to eighty percent. She wasn’t one, but that didn’t increase her chances by much. She couldn’t have another failed marriage, especially one she could see failing all too clearly.

She pulled another breath of salty ocean air into her lungs. Gulls called to one another overhead, and the waves buffeted against the rocky beach in a soothing cadence. She relaxed her shoulders and rolled her head from one side to the other. She slipped into the water to her waist, then stretched her arms long, taking one solid stroke at a time parallel to the shore.

Panic. Dread. Both feelings had swamped Sam when they’d told her the script work hadn’t been good enough. Flashes of Ethan’s condescending face had taunted her. “
Why are you still trying so hard, Sam? It’s pathetic. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Stay home. We can finally have a baby.
” When Sam refused to quit working, he shook his head in disgust. “
It would be one thing if you were any good.
”

How had she not seen it before? She swam faster. Stroke, stroke, stroke, and breathe. Again.

She could see, now, Ethan’s attack on her abilities stemmed from his own insecurities. He couldn’t stomach a successful wife. The idea she could earn good money, possibly better money than he could, chipped at his own self-worth.