Page 25 of Take 2
Chapter Twenty-Two
I f Preston brought me on this trip to kill me, today is the day. The headlights illuminate the road before us, but the cliffs we could careen off of are just a dark abyss. “The obvious flaw in your plan—”
“Is there only one?” Preston asks.
“The first obvious flaw—I’m sure we’ll find more—is that to enjoy a scenic drive, one must be able to see.”
“This is why I don’t work in lighting.”
“Well, to light this”—I wave toward the darkness outside the car—“you’d have to be Apollo.”
“God of the sun sounds important and all, but I’d rather be the god of sex and wine.”
A laugh turns into a yawn. “In my experience, you don’t put those two things together anyway.”
“Are you offended that I didn’t have sex with you when you were drunk?”
“No.”
“If you need it so badly,”—his voice drops—“I’m sure you could ask very nicely when you’re sober.
” That opportunity could have been seized last night, but we chose to be responsible and go to bed early and separately to be prepared for this early start.
Which was just fine. I was not disappointed. At all.
At least in the dim lighting my flush isn’t visible. “I have plenty of ways to satisfy those needs on my own.”
“Do you now?”
Yep, I’m going to die on these scenic roads—because the car is going to explode from the building tension. I cross my legs and pretend this conversation isn’t happening.
After the thirty-minute drive, we arrive at the dark and quiet Villefranche-sur-Mer.
I’m sure it’ll be a lovely place when I’m fully awake.
The crew is already setting up cameras on either side of the street that skirts the waterline.
The two leads sit under a streetlamp on the white stone wall, which gives a smooth border to the sidewalk.
On the other side, pale boulders give the illusion they are cascading into the water.
“The sun is going to rise over those hills”—Preston points to the other side of the small bay—“which is the whole reason we’re here.”
“Did Rafi want you here so you’d have to suffer through the early morning you forced upon everyone?”
“Probably.”
“One chance for the day, people,” Rafael says as we approach. “Because when the writer’s last name is Greene, we don’t get to use screens of the same color.”
I laugh and look up at Preston. “Oh, to have the clout to make demands like that.”
“It’s not clout. It’s being a stubborn asshole.”
“Well, I couldn’t get away with that, so it’s also clout.”
“Sure, you can. You do stubborn really well.”
I flick him off as I sit a safe distance out of the shot.
He continues past to speak with the cast and crew.
I pull my legs up under me and turn to face the water.
Shadows of masts are sprinkled over the water, and to the left, the boulders end and a small beach stretches around the curve of the bay.
It doesn’t seem like much time passes before Preston sits next to me without a word.
“Why here?” I ask. “Why not a sunrise over the water?”
“That’s the same anywhere. The landmass takes longer to be overtaken by sunlight. The west-facing hills will be dark until the sun gets all the way past them. It’s like the day has another obstacle to get through, but once it does, the whole bay transforms.”
“So, worth the effort?”
“Absolutely.”
I feel his eyes on me, and even though the thought of what I’ll find there makes my throat tighten, I turn to meet his gaze. They’re warm and deep and make me want to get back the feeling of curling up against him. “Not everything is … worth that kind of effort,” I say.
“Usually, you don’t know until you’ve put in the effort.”
“Usually.” I nod and scoot closer to him. He wraps his arm around me, and I lean my head on his shoulder.
The sun rises with all the majesty a movie demands, painting the sky and spilling light over the hills, just like Preston said. His vision for the story is incredible, but I wonder which story it’s really for.
“I’m going to go see if today’s attempt is usable.” He squeezes my shoulder and lets go.
“Have fun with that,” I say as I straighten up.
Alone, I turn to face the waterfront town that looks like a set designer dreamed it up.
Awnings cast shade over balconies and first-floor patios.
The buildings’ facades range from near-white pale yellows to terracotta, and blue and mint green shutters adorn some windows.
Tables across from the restaurants are set by the water, and colorful umbrellas open over them at the hands of servers.
This is exactly what people expect of the French Riviera. No wonder Preston set his story here.
“Croissant?” Chris pops up behind me, brandishing a paper bag.
“Yes, please.”
He takes out a tissue paper-wrapped pastry and hands it to me. It’s warm, and flakes flurry from it when I tear a piece off. Butter and magic melt in my mouth, and I moan. “This is divine.”
“My trainer is going to murder me when I get home.” He takes a big bite and speaks with his mouth full. “It’s totally worth it.”
“I concur. Do you think you got the shot? You didn’t screw up your lines to stick us with another early morning here, did you?”
“If this has to be redone, it won’t be my fault.”
“I wish I could bottle your confidence.”
He flashes a leading man smile at me and laughs. “I keep trying to boost your ego, but you always roll your eyes.”
“That’s just me trying to keep your ego from over-inflating.”
“A service to the world.”
“I was never one for science, so curing cancer was out,” I say. “This is a good backup.”
“What are you up to the rest of the day?”
“I don’t know. I’m at Preston’s mercy.” Although, that sounds like it could be fun.
“Aren’t we all?” Chris’ eyebrows bob.
Preston and Rafael approach from the hotel where they’ve set up shop for today. Rafael points to Chris. “Congratulations, you didn’t fuck it up.”
Chris waves his hand in a flourish and mock bows.
“We’re going to pack up and head back. The camera crew is going to hop around here today to get establishing shots.”
“Sounds good to me.” Chris stands and rolls his neck. “I need a nap.”
“We’ll see you in Monaco,” Rafael says, and they both walk away.
“Back to death trap road?” I ask.
“I think we should still use the hotel room here.” He got us a room in case they had to re-shoot tomorrow morning. It seems like that would be a missed opportunity to kill me on the drive, but what do I know?
“Mid-week day off?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I figure I owe you for the early wake-up.”
I lick my lips where the taste of croissant lingers. “Is giving me another reason to lose sleep really recompense for losing sleep?”
“You are so single-minded.”
“I’m stone-cold sober, which was your requirement if I recall.”
“Sea breezes and sunrises are aphrodisiacs, I take it?”
“And pastries.”
“No, pastries inspire cuddling and sleeping,” he says, “not sex.”
“You need one of those croissants. It was an orgasmic experience.” I consider that a moment. “Actually, you might be right. I’m already satisfied.”
He takes my hand, and I hop down from the wall. “Let’s get into the room and change.”
“For what?”
“Real breakfast and the beach.”
My list of reasons to dislike him may be dwindling, but the repeated attacks on my breakfast habits are a new addition to it.
We stop at the car to get our bags first and go to a room that’s considerably more modest than our Monaco hotel rooms, though still charming and expensive.
Also, it’s singular, which is a difference I’m content to accept.
I pull out a bikini and dress and slip into the bathroom.
An explosion of mosaic tiles appears to have gone off in the small space, but it’s nice, if busy.
When I come back out, Preston’s eyes smolder like I’m in crotchless lingerie.
“I really didn’t expect you to ogle me like that until the dress comes off.” It’s a freaking shirt dress. This reaction is bizarre.
He clears his throat. “You look sexy in anything.”
My cheeks warm. “Thanks. Are you ready?”
He blinks a few times before answering. “Yep, let’s go.”
“I meant for breakfast, but if you had something else in mind?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head like that’ll clear thoughts from it.
“Why are you trying so hard not to have sex with me?”
His chest heaves as his eyes bore into me, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I thought I was supposed to be the one creating barriers.”
Time stretches before he responds. “When I get you on that bed, we’re not going anywhere for a long time. We should enjoy the day first. Explore a little.”
“Bold of you to assume how I’d most enjoy my day.” I loop my arm through the strap of my bag. “And what I’d most like to explore. But if you insist …”
The amount of time it takes him to follow me out of the room brings a smile to my face. He’s torturing himself, which is better than any way I could ever torment him, and I’m not entirely sure why. He’s been talking a big game, so what is this hesitation?
Whatever it is for him, for me it’s now a game so fun it might rival the moment when this bursts into wild sex.