Romy Sommer - Not a Fairy Tale

He shook his head. Perhaps he’d imagined it.

What was certainly not his imagination was the passion she felt for this script. More than simple admiration for the role, it was as if she wanted to be Sonia.

“This story really means something to you.” He sat down on a sandy spot high up the beach and patted the ground beside him.

Nina sat beside him, pulling her knees to her chest, and looked up at the sky, not answering him for a long moment. “I read the books at a very hard time in my life. Sonia’s story helped me through it. They took me very far away from what I was going through.”

He watched her face, the moonlight turning her expression stark.

She sucked in her lower lip. “I’ve always been the odd one out in my family. For the Alexanders, duty and service to others have always been more important than personal happiness. I’m not like that. Playing Sonia is the closest I’ll ever get to saving the world single-handed.”

That was a hell of a lot of pressure to put on oneself. What kind of superhero family did she come from? Probably cops or military. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. He never asked women about their families. Because when you asked those kinds of questions you jumped straight into ‘complications’ territory.

He stretched out on his side, cushioning his head with his arms, and a moment later she lay beside him, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could feel the rise and fall of her breathing.

Their gazes held and desire sizzled through him. He’d wanted her from the first time he’d seen her, and the temptation now to take what he wanted was almost more than he could stand. So why didn’t he? It wouldn’t take much to close the distance between them, to lose himself in those full, pink lips.

He rolled away to lie on his back and look up at the clear, night sky.

He had very few scruples when it came to women. As long as it was consensual and legal, she was fair game.

But somehow with Nina he couldn’t bring himself to make a move. Perhaps because she deserved so much better than him. She deserved better than Paul de Angelo, too.

She most definitely deserved better than casual sex or a one-night stand, which was all he was looking for.

She was so quiet he wondered if she dozed. He wouldn’t be surprised after the day she must have had. The preparations for Oscar night were almost as grueling as the event itself. Not unlike the rush of working on a film set: exciting, challenging, invigorating, and exhausting all in one.

But when he turned his head to look at her, she was awake, watching him through half-lidded eyes. With a small smile she crept closer and laid her head on his chest. He let her.

For a long time they lay together in silence. He draped his arm over her and she snuggled into him. She had to be cold in what was left of her fancy dress.

She shifted against him, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him. “Aside from the adrenalin rush, what’s the best part of your job?”

He had to pause a moment to think about it. The adrenalin rush and the challenge of daring to do the impossible were the reasons he got out of bed every day. “The anonymity. I love the fact that I get to do this fun job, but at the end of the day I can go for a jog along the beach, or drink in a bar without someone sticking a camera phone in my face.”

He could tell by the look on her face that it was exactly the opposite of why she did what she did. She shrugged. “Will you help me?”

“We can talk about it in the morning.”

“As you reminded me earlier, it is the morning.”

“Then we can talk about it when we’ve both had some sleep.” He wasn’t going to make any rash promises tonight. Not with the smell of her perfume clouding his judgment and the softness of her hair tickling his chin.

Besides, she was in a heightened emotional state and who knew if she’d still feel the same tomorrow? Who knew if she’d even remember to say “thank you” to him for rescuing her tomorrow?

Not that it mattered. He didn’t go around rescuing damsels for the glory. He was just a sucker for a woman with tears in her eyes and tonight she’d had that look written all over her.

Tonight she needed a friend, someone at her side, not because of who she was and what she could do for them, but just to be there for her. He could do that.

And tomorrow…

Tomorrow had a way of taking care of itself.

Nina said nothing. Her lids hung heavy and she laid her cheek against his chest again.

He watched a satellite orbit slowly across the sky and when it disappeared from sight, he stirred, moving his aching limbs. “I should take you home before it gets light and the rest of the world wakes up.”

“I don’t want to go home. Can’t I just stay here?” She murmured.

“If you don’t mind getting some very curious stares from the early-morning beach walkers.”

She sighed. “You’re right. I’m damned if I stay and damned if I go, so home it will have to be.” She rolled away from him and sat up, reaching for her shoes. “Is my make-up smudged? If it is, we’ll need to find a restroom somewhere so I can try to fix it up. If I have to get past the inevitable cameras, at least I don’t want to look as if I’ve fallen to pieces.”

“There is another option. You could come home with me.”

She eyed him coolly for a long moment before she answered. “Thanks, but no thanks. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight, but I’m not that grateful.”

“That wasn’t a proposition. I have a guest room you can use.”

“You don’t want me?” She pouted, her big eyes rounding in a typical actress way, as if her entire being depended on being wanted and adored every moment of the day.

He laughed, hoping she was just messing with him. “You’ve had an upsetting and emotional night and I won’t take advantage of that. I don’t have many morals when it comes to pretty women, but I don’t prey on them in their moments of weakness.” Preying on their easiness tended to be way less complicated. “When I make love to a woman, it’s not because she’s grateful, or confused, or out of some misguided need for comfort. When you come to me, it’ll be because you want me .” He stood and dusted himself off. “And just for the record, of course I find you desirable. I am a man, after all.”

There was that smile again, the one that turned her luminescent and could make the strongest of men feel like a million bucks. The smile that was pure old-school Hollywood glamour.

They climbed back to the road. She straddled the bike behind him again, her body pressed up against his, her arms wrapped around his waist, and he smiled too.

The drive all the way back to Venice Beach suddenly didn’t seem so far.

Nina wasn’t sure how she’d imagined Dominic’s house, but this wasn’t it. Not the stereotypical penthouse apartment of a bachelor, all chrome and glass, but a craftsman cottage in a quiet walk street in Venice, bright-colored amid a lush garden oasis just visible now in the light tinge of dawn.

She was too tired to notice much more as she followed Dom through the house to the guest bedroom.

He hovered in the door and she turned to face him. “Thank you. For everything.”

The crooked grin curved his mouth, and it wasn’t gratitude that had her hoping he would lean in so she could feel that grin against her lips.

“For what it’s worth…” his voice was a purr that started at the top of her spine and whispered all the way down. “I’m glad you turned down Paul de Angelo.”

He pulled the door shut behind him and she found herself staring at it for a long moment, her pulse racing and her mouth dry.