end of town. Don’t you live the other direction?”
They were talking Serendipity here. The entire town could fit on a postage stamp. He could go from one end of Main Street to the other in approximately sixty seconds, and that included having to stop at the one traffic light in the whole town. He unhooked his spare helmet from its perch on the backrest and held it out to her. “Hop on.”
She hesitated, but eventually took the helmet from his outstretched hand and strapped it on her head. She slid her leg through the gap between his rear end and the backrest, and settled herself behind him. Abrupt awareness of her hot little crotch nestled against his butt roared through him. Day-umm.
Her arms snaked around his waist, which had the effect of mashing her breasts against his back informatively. Soft. Springy. Resilient. Well, that answered that. Her female assets were real. Good to know. He’d never been a fan of hard and lumpy implants.
You’re about to be her boss. Behave yourself. Nope. His body wasn’t listening to reason. His erection swelled until his jeans were uncomfortably tight. Good thing he was sitting on the bike and not trying to walk.
He twisted the throttle and the Harley leaped forward. Ana relaxed behind him and moved easily with the bike. She obviously knew how to stay centered and quiet on top of one. He didn’t let many women ride with him because they usually threw off his balance. He could hardly tell she was aboard, though, as their bodies moved in perfect unison. Only that sexy female form clinging to the length of his back reminded him she was there.
The farther inland they went, the hotter the air got. It was official. They were in hell. He followed the directions she gave him through the radio-mike between their helmets, and in a few minutes he pulled into a shabby motel parking lot. A few disreputable-looking surfers were just coming back after a day in the water, but the parking lot was otherwise deserted.
“Need me to walk you up to your room?” he asked. His grandmother was a stickler for the niceties and had raised all the kids to be polite.
Ana stiffened against his back. “No, but thanks for offering.” She slid off the bike a little too hastily and he shot out a hand to steady her as she stumbled.
“Dinner, tonight. With me,” he stated.
“No, thanks.”
“That wasn’t a request. Your audition isn’t over yet.”
If she’d been awkward before, she was board-stiff and epically uncomfortable now. Jeez. Did she think he was going to throw her down and rape her on a casting couch? He said defensively, “I just want to talk more. Get to know you. Find the chemistry between us. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“I’ll meet you at a restaurant,” she countered quickly. “Pick a place.”
“Romaletti’s.” She wanted to have her own ride home, huh? Did she not want to sleep with him or just doubt that he would be interested? Hmm. Intriguing.
She disengaged her arm from his fingers, and he was startled to discover he missed the feel of her skin. He took the helmet she passed him and watched her pull her blond hair out of its ponytail. It swung around her shoulders pertly.
Realizing with a start that he was staring at her, he tore his gaze away from her. For lack of anything else to look at, he eyed the motel. It looked one step up from a crack den. But it was the only low-cost lodging in town. Serendipity was mostly a secret enclave of the rich and famous. It was far enough north of Los Angeles to get out of the rat race, but close enough that a private jet could have a person back in the heart of L.A. in less than an hour.
He and Adrian had chosen the sleepy little town to house their production company precisely because of its laid-back atmosphere and distance from the Hollywood rat race. Not to mention real estate wasn’t sold by the square foot up here or for exorbitant prices. That, and his grandmother’s home was here. He’d just finished fully renovating the place and adding a few bells and whistles to it. Serendipity was where he’d grown up. His roots ran deep in this town.
“Thanks for the ride, Jackson.”
“Anytime, babycakes.” Grinning, he revved the throttle and spit gravel at her with his back tire as he peeled out of the parking lot.
He pointed his Harley back toward the coast and let the wind blow away the misgivings trying to creep into his mind. Was he making a mistake casting someone so naive? Her freshness and innocence would play great in the film, but at what price to her? He would hate to hurt Ana. She was a good kid.
He pulled into the driveway of the sprawling Victorian home he’d grown up in. Technically, he owned the place now, but it would always be Gran’s house. It was gray-blue with white gingerbread trim and moss-green accents, and looked totally at ease in its rocky seaside environment. The recent renovation and expansion had more than doubled its square footage, but the architect had done a brilliant job of blending the old with the new.
For the past few years, he’d only crashed here between movie gigs. But he was looking forward to living here full-time. The Hollywood grind was getting old. He also thought Minerva liked the company, not that she would ever admit it. The twins had left for college, and he suspected Minerva was empty nesting. Not to mention his grandmother was a flamboyant soul in constant need of an audience.
He parked his Harley in the garage next to the white Cadillac he’d bought her for her birthday last year and headed into the kitchen. Steeling himself to face the baby lecture—again—he sighed.
“Hey, Gran.” He paused beside her to drop a fond kiss on her cheek. Still tall and slim at sixtysomething, she was an elegant woman. Beautiful, even now.
“Hello, Jackie. Tea?” She glanced up at him and did a double take. “What happened to your face?”
“Ana—an actress auditioning for a part—clocked me across the face with a club.”
“Oh, dear. It looks like you’re going to have a hooked nose and a black eye. Won’t you make quite the dashing pirate? I assume she didn’t get the part?”
“Actually, we’re thinking about casting her.”
“Well, at least she can defend herself from your advances.”
He rolled his eyes. “The crap in the tabloids about me is not true, Gran. I swear.”
She waved a “whatever” hand at him and pulled the tea bags out of the pot.
“Can I have some of that tea on ice?” he asked.
“Ruins the flavor, dear.”
“Yes, but it’s a thousand degrees outside. And the idea of drinking something hot makes my nose hurt.”
“There’s a nice breeze coming off the ocean. Why don’t we take our tea on the veranda?”
He never failed to be amazed at how it could be twenty degrees cooler on the coast than in town. He picked up the tray and followed her outside onto the stone patio. Sure enough, a cool, fresh breeze dried his sweat in a matter of seconds. He sipped at the tall glass of iced tea Minerva poured for him in spite of her objection to chilling her imported Earl Grey.
“Have you thought about what we talked about on the phone?” she asked without preamble.
The
