Come A Little Bit Closer
Page 15
She was afraid to open her mouth again: who knew what she might admit to this time?
“You did a great job raising Tatiana,” he said softly. “So good that she’s a remarkably kind and steady movie star.” George was one of the few people who knew their family situation. “But now you need to take some time for yourself, too.”
She couldn’t admit just how off-kilter his words made her feel. It wasn’t a sacrifice to manage her sister’s business affairs, not by any stretch of the imagination. Besides, lately her brain had started a disturbing pattern of filling in the few gaps she had with Smith. His laughter, the dark eyes that always seemed to zero in on her in the middle of a crowd, the easy way he had with everyone on set, from the camera operator to the cleaning crew.
“Actually,” she said slowly, “I have been taking some time for myself.” She took a deep breath before saying, “I’ve written a screenplay. And—” Oh, this was harder than she thought it would be. For all that she hadn’t thought she was afraid of rejection, maybe she was. Just a little bit.
“And?” She could hear the barely repressed excitement in George’s voice.
She smiled at her friend. “I’d like you to read it.”
He clapped his hands together like a happy child. “Finally!”
She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, finally?”
“Tatiana swore me to secrecy, and she’ll kill me if you let on that she told me.” He looked at her with big, puppy-dog eyes. “Please don’t tell her I blew it. Besides, she only told me because she loves you. She said it’s great.” He didn’t waste any time asking, “Do you have it with you?”
Valentina realized that once she actually gave George her screenplay, the ball would start rolling whether she was ready for it or not.
Forcefully reminding herself that she’d only told him about it because she finally believed that it was ready, she said, “I’ll email it to you as soon as I get back home.” She clicked her leather bag shut, then pressed a kiss to George’s cheek before sliding into the backseat of the airport limo. “And thank you for always being such a great friend.”
Fortunately, she was too tired during the flight back to San Francisco to worry too much about her conflicted feelings over Smith or about sending her screenplay out into the world. Her eyes and brain were blurry as she finally got home, stripped off her clothes, and made herself send the screenplay to George before she fell into bed.
The next morning, she let herself sleep until the last possible second and felt worlds better as she walked onto the set. Her stomach growled, and she knew she was going to be cranky without her daily hit of morning sugar, but losing half a day to travel meant she needed to get the ball rolling on high priority items before she dropped in to craft services to get something to eat.
More and more often, thirty minutes turned into three hours of email and phone calls and she missed breakfast altogether. With the Japanese fragrance deal in the crucial final planning stages, she had a feeling it was going to be one of those long mornings. She was so focused on the items on her mental to-do list that she was seated behind her computer by the time she noticed the plate and cup on her desk.
Her stomach growled in immediate response to the fluffy cinnamon bun that dripped with sugar on the beautiful hand-thrown, green plate. Telling herself there wasn’t a person alive with the willpower to resist the breakfast treat, especially when presented so beautifully, she pulled off a piece and popped it in her mouth.
Her eyes closed as the hit of sugar, perfectly spiced with cinnamon, hit her tongue, and a low moan of pleasure escaped her lips. It was decadent. Full of too many empty calories.
And exactly what she needed.
She didn’t know how she’d missed the aroma of freshly brewed coffee before now, but when she reached for the mug the liquid was still warm as she greedily drank it down. She admired the ongoing beauty of the lily of the valley she’d put in a blown-glass vase she’d found in the kitchen the night before.
She was just putting down the mug when she finally saw the note.
Valentina,
The color of the plate and mug made me think of the green in your hazel eyes. I missed seeing them—and you—on set yesterday.
Enjoy your breakfast.
Smith
Valentina stared at the note for a very long time before carefully folding it up and slipping it into her purse. And then she ate every last piece of the cinnamon bun with more pleasure than she’d allowed herself to feel in as long as she could remember.
* * *
By the time Valentina finally emerged from her office to say thank you to Smith for both the flower and breakfast, she was frustrated—and more than a little relieved—to remember that he had an offsite meeting with his investors. He didn’t need to share these kinds of details with her and Tatiana, but he obviously believed an informed team worked better than one kept in the dark. It was yet another factor that set him apart.
“Honey!”
Valentina turned with surprise to see her beautiful mother walking toward her with her arms outstretched. Even though she was a good six inches taller than Ava Landon and hadn’t been a child for a very long time, as Valentina stepped into the familiar arms and expensive air of perfume, she suddenly felt two decades younger.
“I’m so glad I could make it here today. You know how much I love being on set.”
She loved her mother enough to momentarily forget to be wary about Ava’s reasons for the sudden visit to San Francisco. “You look great, Mom.”
Ava Landon lit up the way she always did at compliments, before turning her gaze to her daughter. “You’ve lost weight. You know how much better you look when your figure is fuller.”
Valentina stifled a sigh. “I think Tatiana has a small break before they need her again on set. I’ll take you to her trailer.”
But her mother was looking over her shoulder. “Here I am, baby!”
A good-looking man who couldn’t be too much older than Valentina was walking toward them. Her mother leaned in closer and said, “Isn’t he just too beautiful? I’m so in love with him.”
Trying not to wince at her mother’s too-free use of the word love, and glad the question was clearly rhetorical, Valentina shook the man’s hand as her mother made the introductions.
“David, this is my eldest daughter, Val.”
Valentina saw the slight surprise flash in his eyes at just how different she looked from her mother and sister.
“You did a great job raising Tatiana,” he said softly. “So good that she’s a remarkably kind and steady movie star.” George was one of the few people who knew their family situation. “But now you need to take some time for yourself, too.”
She couldn’t admit just how off-kilter his words made her feel. It wasn’t a sacrifice to manage her sister’s business affairs, not by any stretch of the imagination. Besides, lately her brain had started a disturbing pattern of filling in the few gaps she had with Smith. His laughter, the dark eyes that always seemed to zero in on her in the middle of a crowd, the easy way he had with everyone on set, from the camera operator to the cleaning crew.
“Actually,” she said slowly, “I have been taking some time for myself.” She took a deep breath before saying, “I’ve written a screenplay. And—” Oh, this was harder than she thought it would be. For all that she hadn’t thought she was afraid of rejection, maybe she was. Just a little bit.
“And?” She could hear the barely repressed excitement in George’s voice.
She smiled at her friend. “I’d like you to read it.”
He clapped his hands together like a happy child. “Finally!”
She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, finally?”
“Tatiana swore me to secrecy, and she’ll kill me if you let on that she told me.” He looked at her with big, puppy-dog eyes. “Please don’t tell her I blew it. Besides, she only told me because she loves you. She said it’s great.” He didn’t waste any time asking, “Do you have it with you?”
Valentina realized that once she actually gave George her screenplay, the ball would start rolling whether she was ready for it or not.
Forcefully reminding herself that she’d only told him about it because she finally believed that it was ready, she said, “I’ll email it to you as soon as I get back home.” She clicked her leather bag shut, then pressed a kiss to George’s cheek before sliding into the backseat of the airport limo. “And thank you for always being such a great friend.”
Fortunately, she was too tired during the flight back to San Francisco to worry too much about her conflicted feelings over Smith or about sending her screenplay out into the world. Her eyes and brain were blurry as she finally got home, stripped off her clothes, and made herself send the screenplay to George before she fell into bed.
The next morning, she let herself sleep until the last possible second and felt worlds better as she walked onto the set. Her stomach growled, and she knew she was going to be cranky without her daily hit of morning sugar, but losing half a day to travel meant she needed to get the ball rolling on high priority items before she dropped in to craft services to get something to eat.
More and more often, thirty minutes turned into three hours of email and phone calls and she missed breakfast altogether. With the Japanese fragrance deal in the crucial final planning stages, she had a feeling it was going to be one of those long mornings. She was so focused on the items on her mental to-do list that she was seated behind her computer by the time she noticed the plate and cup on her desk.
Her stomach growled in immediate response to the fluffy cinnamon bun that dripped with sugar on the beautiful hand-thrown, green plate. Telling herself there wasn’t a person alive with the willpower to resist the breakfast treat, especially when presented so beautifully, she pulled off a piece and popped it in her mouth.
Her eyes closed as the hit of sugar, perfectly spiced with cinnamon, hit her tongue, and a low moan of pleasure escaped her lips. It was decadent. Full of too many empty calories.
And exactly what she needed.
She didn’t know how she’d missed the aroma of freshly brewed coffee before now, but when she reached for the mug the liquid was still warm as she greedily drank it down. She admired the ongoing beauty of the lily of the valley she’d put in a blown-glass vase she’d found in the kitchen the night before.
She was just putting down the mug when she finally saw the note.
Valentina,
The color of the plate and mug made me think of the green in your hazel eyes. I missed seeing them—and you—on set yesterday.
Enjoy your breakfast.
Smith
Valentina stared at the note for a very long time before carefully folding it up and slipping it into her purse. And then she ate every last piece of the cinnamon bun with more pleasure than she’d allowed herself to feel in as long as she could remember.
* * *
By the time Valentina finally emerged from her office to say thank you to Smith for both the flower and breakfast, she was frustrated—and more than a little relieved—to remember that he had an offsite meeting with his investors. He didn’t need to share these kinds of details with her and Tatiana, but he obviously believed an informed team worked better than one kept in the dark. It was yet another factor that set him apart.
“Honey!”
Valentina turned with surprise to see her beautiful mother walking toward her with her arms outstretched. Even though she was a good six inches taller than Ava Landon and hadn’t been a child for a very long time, as Valentina stepped into the familiar arms and expensive air of perfume, she suddenly felt two decades younger.
“I’m so glad I could make it here today. You know how much I love being on set.”
She loved her mother enough to momentarily forget to be wary about Ava’s reasons for the sudden visit to San Francisco. “You look great, Mom.”
Ava Landon lit up the way she always did at compliments, before turning her gaze to her daughter. “You’ve lost weight. You know how much better you look when your figure is fuller.”
Valentina stifled a sigh. “I think Tatiana has a small break before they need her again on set. I’ll take you to her trailer.”
But her mother was looking over her shoulder. “Here I am, baby!”
A good-looking man who couldn’t be too much older than Valentina was walking toward them. Her mother leaned in closer and said, “Isn’t he just too beautiful? I’m so in love with him.”
Trying not to wince at her mother’s too-free use of the word love, and glad the question was clearly rhetorical, Valentina shook the man’s hand as her mother made the introductions.
“David, this is my eldest daughter, Val.”
Valentina saw the slight surprise flash in his eyes at just how different she looked from her mother and sister.
