Page 35 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

It was really a theater. He led the way through the wide passage, passing the well-stocked library and the gold and green powder room to a large room tucked next to the gym.

He waited while she stopped just inside the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the scene.

It was set up like a movie theater, with the large screen suspended a few feet on what looked like a dais.

Lush red carpet was on the floor and dozens of comfortable reclining chairs were placed in front of the screen.

Recessed lights were placed strategically in the concave roof and looked like stars dotting a velvety sky.

He stayed behind as she took small steps into the room.

"A concession stand?" She wandered over to stare at the rows of popcorn and soda machines, before turning to look at him.

"I love movies and prefer to watch them in the privacy of my own home," he offered as an explanation. "Shall we?"

Taking her hand, he led her to the front where there was something like a daybed in the middle. Settling her down on it, he ordered the screen to come on.

"What's your preference?"

Shaking her head, she waited until he was beside her before she spoke. "I'm still processing." She snuggled when he pulled the blankets over them. There were no windows to let in any lights, and very soon, he had killed the ones shining from the ceiling. "This is really something."

"I had it specially designed. What would you like to see?"

"A scary movie." She grinned at him. "Something that makes me so afraid, I will be clinging to you."

"You already are," he pointed out, looking down at the arms she had wrapped around his waist.

"Even more than this."

"How about Freddy Krueger?"

She shrugged that away. "Child's play. I got bored watching it. Too predictable."

He merely lifted a brow. "All right then. Why don't I make a selection?"

"Okay." She settled back against his chest, content to just be here with him. She did not care what they were watching or where they were. He was with her and that was all that mattered.

Absently kissing her forehead, he called up several options and selected one.

"Killer Instinct?"

"Hmm. Shh."

"I have never seen this one before--"

"Then prepare to be entertained."

She lapsed into silence and waited until the credits.

Conail smiled in anticipation at her reaction.

He had seen it twice before and was intimately connected with the script as his company had invested in the production.

For a few short months, he had been personally involved with the actress.

She was one of the few women he genuinely liked.

After the affair had ended, they had remained friends.

He felt her jolt suddenly, her fingers grabbing at his sweater and his smile widened. The introductory scene had grabbed him by the throat when he first saw it too.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Yasmine forced herself to continue watching.

It had started out bloody. A woman on a rampage, going on a killing spree after she discovered that her baby had been killed.

The scenes were so vivid, the terror so real, it had her climbing into the screen and becoming a part of the entire thing.

For one hour, she was lost--so concentrated on what was happening, she barely noticed when he went to get them popcorn and soda.

"Thanks," she murmured absently.

"Butter?"

"What?"

"Would you like butter--"

"Yes." She grabbed the entire container, and he watched in amazement when she drowned the popcorn in the golden liquid.

"What?" She shrugged, noticing his expression. "It tastes better--OH!" The rest of the sentence ended with a scream as the killer started hacking at the man's genitals. She sat up so suddenly, if he had not been quick, the buttered popcorn would have been all over the floor.

Setting it aside on the space next to her, he grunted when she simply grabbed him and threw one leg over both of his. A smile tugged at his lips when she hid her face on his chest and clung.

"You can look now."

"Is it over?"

"I think the heroine or villain is taking a rest. She's in a café ordering food. Killing is a very taxing business."

Lifting her head slowly as if she did not believe him, she peered at the screen and felt her heartbeat slowing down.

"Want me to change it?" he asked, amusement rife in his voice.

"Yes. No." She shook her head and took a breath. "I can stand it." She turned her head towards him. "How can you be so nonchalant?"

"One, I know none of it's real and two, I watched it twice before." He grinned as she shot him a dirty look.

"You deliberately chose this particular one to scare the life out of me."

"Why would I do that?" He brushed a finger down her cheek to remove popcorn crumbs.

"Just to be hateful."

"That does not sound like me. We can always switch to something tame. Like Nightmare on Elm Street." He teased.

"Just shut up," she muttered. Settling back on his chest, she grabbed the popcorn and steeled herself for more gore and carnage.

To her credit, she managed to watch the entire movie, amidst screams and burying her head against his neck. He loved watching her watch the movie. She became so involved and would at times forget he was even there.

She was not afraid to cry or laugh or grieve with the female character.

He loved having her next to him, feeling her curves this close and the scent of her filling his nostrils.

She had finished the popcorn and soda and was stretched out almost on top of him.

As soon as that movie was over, he selected another, this one a popular romantic comedy that soon had her sighing at the antics and story of the star-crossed lovers.

His first clue that she had started sleeping was when he did not hear a peep out of her. Tipping his head down, he saw that her eyes were closed, and her lips slightly parted, and she was snoring.

An indulgent smile touched his lips. "Look at you," he whispered. "I thought we were supposed to be necking." Pulling the covers over them, he wrapped his arms protectively around her and followed suit.

*****

He woke up before her and just lay there listening to her gentle snores. Carefully easing his arms from around her, he tucked some cushions under her head and pulled the blankets up to her neck. Ordering the screen off, he left the room and was on his way to the kitchen when his phone rang.

His first thought was not to answer it when he saw the name but changed his mind. The snow was still coming down and everything had the appearance of a white blanket that had been spread.

"Michelle."

"I'm sorry to bother you." Her voice sounded tremulous and uncertain. He had often thought of her as strong and confident and was surprised at how unmoved he was by a voice that had the power to make him weak in the past.

"What is it?"

"Brian is burning up."

"Your son?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm alone at the house and Michael is not here." He heard her take a deep breath. "I don't know what to do."

"Have you called a doctor?"

"I cannot get through to anyone and I cannot drive in this blizzard. Oh God, I don't know what to do. I know you're the last person I should be calling--"

"You're right." Hissing out a breath at the silence that followed his words, he stared out the window at the complete whiteout. "Have you tried dousing him in tepid water?"

"I've tried everything. I think it's an ear infection that's causing all of it. Conail, I'm scared."

"Let me see what I can do. I'll call you back." He turned to see Yasmine standing just inside the doorway, with the blanket wrapped around her.

"That was--" He thought about lying to her but dismissed that instantly.

"I heard," she told him quietly. She would wonder how to feel about his ex calling him later but now was not the time. "Her son's ill."

"Yes," he clipped, feeling uncomfortable discussing this with her. "Her husband is out of town. She's scared dammit. I did not ask her to call me, and I don't know why she did."

"That's beside the point. Who can you call? Is she near here?"

He simply stared at her as if wondering what she was thinking.

"No." He shook his head. "I have someone--" Picking up the phone, he placed a call and within minutes had the assurance that the doctor would make his way to her.

Hanging up, he called Michelle and watched as Yasmine put the kettle on to make tea.

When he finished the conversation, he stayed where he was, leaning on the counter.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes. Donald is a friend of mine and a retired surgeon. He lives a few blocks from where she is."

"Good. I think we should have the pastrami. And a salad."

"Are you upset?"

"About having pastrami?"

"Yasmine."

She had her back to him as she took out a cup. "A little."

"She called me, I--"

"No." Shaking her head, she turned to face him as she poured water over the pouch. "I gather that her husband is not there."

"They're having problems."

She glanced at him and concentrated on pouring honey. "I see. She told you?"

"Yes." He was still watching her closely and saw when her hand shook a little. "I saw her at a function recently."

"Okay." Pasting a smile on her lips, she went to the fridge to take out the pasta. "We'll just heat this up--" She broke off when he clamped his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

"She's my past."

"Of course." She refused to look at him for fear of seeing something she could not bear.

He was about to say something else when his phone rang.

"Answer it," she advised. Not giving him a chance, she turned to take up her cup and walked out of the kitchen.

"Dammit!" he muttered before grabbing up the phone.

"I don't know how to thank you."

He wanted to snap at her for spoiling the magic but managed to tamp down the irritation.

"No problem. How is the child?"

"Doing much better. He was given some antibiotics. If it wasn't for you--"

"I'm happy I was able to help," he told her formally.