Stealing Gold (The Logan Series Book 4) (5 page)

*****

Stacy’s
mouth was dry. Her heartbeat was pounding. She’d broken the one cardinal rule
drummed into her since her teens.
Never tell.

Adam’s
touch was on her chin, edging her face up.

She
opened her eyes to see him staring with compassion in his eyes.

“Do
you want to tell me about it?”

She
shook her head. Took a step away. “It’s complicated.” She crossed her arms. “I
shouldn’t have said that.”

“You
can say anything to me. You know I won’t betray your secrets.”

She
did know that. After their ill fate marriage ended, Lester had warned that Adam
would sell his story, but he’d never betrayed her. How could she have ever
thought he would?

“Why
did you wear the ring?”

His
sudden switch of topic confused her for a moment, and she didn’t reply.

Adam’s
mouth curved in a slow smile. “At the awards show. Why were you wearing my
ring?”

He
deserved the truth, but admitting it would shift the dynamic between them into
dangerous territory. The safe response would be that she was feeling nostalgic,
but it was more than that. On their anniversary, she’d mourned the death of their
marriage.

She
pulled in a deep breath. “I didn’t know if you were watching. I hoped you were.
I wanted to show you that our marriage meant something to me.”

The
look in his darkened eyes stole her breath. He stood so silent, so watchful,
the same, and yet so different from the man she’d known it was as though she
was seeing him for the first time.

A
terse nod. A glance at her lips. Considering.

“Why
did you kiss me at the airport?” Was it for the same reason?

He
looked into her eyes again. “I wanted to.” He frowned. “You walked through
those doors and I acted on impulse.” His gaze lingered on her bare legs. “I’m
drawn to you. I wish to hell I wasn’t, but we’ve got to face facts. We
sleepwalked into marriage, bought into dreams of each other that had no basis
in reality. You tell me now that everything you told me was a lie. I don’t know
what to do with that. Half of me wants to dig away to find the truth, and the
other half is telling me to walk away, but this goddamn attraction keeps
getting in the way.” He stroked her cheek.

“You
lean in to my touch. The look in your eyes tells me you want my mouth on yours.”
He stared at her mouth. “Your lips part, and your breathing speeds up.”

Stacy’s
nipples hardened, poking against the soft cotton of her nightdress. His fingers
were warm. Her head tilted, encouraging him to stroke the long column of her
throat.

“You
want me. I can read your body like a book, and it’s telling me you want sex as
much as I do.”

“Adam.”
His name was pulled from her, a murmured, needy sound. Giving in was the worse
thing she could do—there was too much history, too much pain. But he stood
before her, touching her neck, and the urge to touch him back couldn’t be
resisted. “We shouldn’t.” One step and her arms were around his neck, her fingers
lacing through the dark strands of his hair. She breathed in his scent, went on
tiptoe, and tasted him.

At
the airport, she’d tuned out everything when kissing him, but the kiss had
lasted only a moment. Now, she took time to savor the press of his mouth on
hers, the touch of his tongue tracing the top of her mouth, the brush of his
skin against hers. He was a favorite meal she hadn’t eaten for months, and she
was starving.

His
hands moved lower, brushing against the top of her thighs before sliding
beneath the hem of her nightdress. Her back arched, pushing her hips forward
into his pelvis. Their lovemaking had always been like this. Urgent. Desperate.

One
hand flattened on her bottom, and the other continued upward, stroking the
curve of her back. She dimly registered the sound of a moan, from him or from
her, she didn’t know, didn’t care. Their bodies needed to be closer. With
nothing between them.

She
pushed away the neckline of his T-shirt, feeling the corded muscles of his
shoulders. “Take it off.”

He
buried his face in her throat, nipped the skin there with his teeth. “My hands
are busy.”

She
pulled away just enough so she could strip him. Tossed his T-shirt to the
floor, and let her hands roam the wide expanse of his chest. Exploring a body she’d
once known every inch of, but one which had now changed, had now hardened. His
muscle definition rivaled that of an athlete, or an actor with a strip clause
in their contract.

“This
doesn’t have to change things, it doesn’t have to mean anything,” he murmured against
her neck.

“Just
sex?”

His
fingers slipped under the waist of her panties.

“Just
sex.”

The
last time she’d had sex was with this man, nine long months ago. Sex with him
now would mean something, it couldn’t not. They were alone in his house—by his
design. Had this been the plan all along?

“What?”
His fingers stilled, and he pulled back to look into her eyes. He’d always had
the ability to know when there was something going on in her head—even without
words.

“I
just…” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Did you plan this?”

His
hands left her skin. He frowned, and stepped back.

“We’re
alone. I treated you badly. It’s not impossible to think you want some sort of
revenge for what I did to you.”

Anger
flashed in his eyes. His gaze swept her head to toe. “I’m not the one who came
down here half-naked.” He crossed his arms.

“So
what just happened is my fault?” The curve of his biceps, the supple length of
his arms, made it impossible to concentrate. And of course, he noticed.

“We
were always horizontally compatible.” He bent to snatch his T-shirt from the
floor. “Go get dressed, Stacy.”

Chapter Six

She
drives me crazy.

While
Stacey showered and dressed, Adam stalked outside and tried to get his temper
under control. How dare she think he wanted revenge? From the moment they’d
reconnected, he’d shown her nothing but consideration. He still had no clue as
to what she meant with that crack about everything about her being a lie; she
hadn’t been a drama queen while they were married, so he had to believe there
was something to it. But what?

He
rubbed the back of his neck. Despite his intentions the moment he held her in
his arms, skin to skin, caution had been thrown to the wind. If they didn’t
establish some ground rules they’d be ripping each other’s clothes off again in
the next few days.

Half
an hour later, she joined him.

“I’m
sorry.” She fidgeted, and avoided his eyes. “I guess I’m just paranoid.”

“I
guess you have a right to be.” The one man she trusted above all others had
done a number on her. “I’m sorry too. We have a lot of baggage between us.”

She
looked up.

“Truce?”

“Truce.”
Her mouth curved in a tentative smile.

“I
called the guys. Let’s go meet them.”

Boxfield
Animation’s premises consisted of a unit in an industrial estate on the
outskirts of Clifden. From the outside, it was nothing special, but inside
featured a state of the art recording studio, and a large open office where the
animators worked on large monitors. The company was small, but had already
proved themselves, picking up an Oscar nod for their last production—an animated
short film.

The
executives from Plaxtair were America based, so the team that met Stacy and
Adam on arrival was a small one—Sean, the director Eamonn, his assistant Mandy,
another couple of voice actors, and Christine McCarthy, a voice coach.

After
the introductions were made, they settled around the conference table to
outline the next steps.

Bottles
of water and glasses were on a tray in the center of the table, together with a
pile of bundled scripts.

Christine
took the lead. “You have a great speaking voice, but even professional actors
need work to bring out the best in their voice overs.” She tucked a strand of
blonde hair behind her ear. “Today we’d like you to read through a scene with
Bill and Michael here. That will give us a baseline to work from. You’ll be
sick of the script by the time we actually record the finished track.”

Stacy
swallowed. Adam could tell that she was suffering from nerves, but probably
no-one else could; she had a good poker face.

“So
how does this work? Do I talk along to the animation?”

Sean
shook his head. “We’ve developed storyboards breaking down each scene, but the
visuals will be created for the soundtrack, rather than the other way around.”
He handed her a bundle of papers. “This is the entire script. The section on
top is the scene we’ll be working on today. Once we have it recorded, you and Christine
will analyse it to finesse your performance.”

“We’ll
work on capturing Bibi’s personality, and getting her voice right for the next
couple of weeks,” Christine said. “The final couple of weeks will be dedicated
to recording for real. When we get into the studio, you’ll see that every
session will be recorded on video. This is for the animation team. They like to
see the actors’ faces when they are speaking. A lot of times, their facial
expressions and gestures get incorporated into the final film.”

Stacy’s
eyebrows rose.

Eamonn
laughed. “I know. It’s weird, isn’t it? But in a lot of cases, the actors
playing certain roles resemble their animated counterparts quite strongly.”

“So
I could have a squirrel counterpart?”

Eamonn
nodded. “Or at least one who would share some of your gestures or facial ticks.”

With
a glance at Sean, Stacy took a memory stick from her bag, and placed it on the
table in front of her. “Thanks for sending me the CD of the songs Bibi will
sing. I did some work with them last week, and have recorded versions, with a
basic guitar track below the vocal.”

Sean
grinned. “That’s fantastic, Stacy. We have backing musicians lined up, but this
will help a lot.”

“We’ll
record the songs further on in the process,” Christine said. “The more work we
do on the vocalization, the more Bibi’s personality will come through. You may
find that the final songs sound quite different.”

There
was a sparkle in Stacy’s eyes. She seemed fascinated by the process and eager
to learn. “When can I start?”

“Help
yourself to water.” Eamonn nodded to his assistant, who handed bound copies of
the script to Stacy, the other voice actors and Christine. “And we’ll begin.”

“We’ll
leave you to it.” Adam pushed back his chair, and left the room with Sean just
behind him.

They
continued into Sean’s office. Adam fixed himself a cup of coffee from the pod
coffee machine in the corner, then sank on one of the brown leather sofas.

Sean
did the same. “She seems really down to earth.” Curiosity was in his eyes. “How
did last night go?”

“Fine.”

“Have
you talked?” Sean pinned Adam with his gaze. “About your divorce?”

“Yes.”

Sean
waited for a few moments, then leaned back and grinned. “You’re not going to
tell me anything, are you?”

“No.”

He
shook his head. Cast his eyes heavenward. “I listened to all your shit for
months. Now you’re holding out on me?”

“It’s
complicated.”

“It’s
always been complicated.” Sean sobered. “I just don’t want this to be difficult
for you. She really did a number on you, back then. I know you’re over it, and
you’re no delicate flower, but I care about you, man. If there’s a problem with
you two, I caused it by pushing for her to do this job. I don’t want...”

“It’s
fine.” Adam swallowed a mouthful of coffee, and wished it were laced with
whiskey. “Her living in the house might be challenging, but it isn’t anything I
can’t handle. She needs this job, and she’s perfect for the part, even better
than Mitta. I have no regrets.”

Not
yet.

*****

The
following few hours, really fun hours, passed in a flash. Stacy was used to
using her voice as an instrument, but the whole recording dialogue process had
been a revelation. The other actors managed to infuse their parts with such
personality, such conviction, she was in awe of their talent. They’d stood in
front of microphones in the studio space, acting their lines rather than merely
speaking them.

Once
the first read-through was done, they’d reviewed video and audio with
Christine.

“Every
action that you do, even smiling, changes your voice.” Christine paused the
tape. “Let’s look at this bit, for example. Michael’s character, Elliot, brings
Bibi flowers. He’s excited. He’s in love. When Michael acts out the dialogue,
the way his body moves and his facial expressions are mirrored in his voice. It’s
so much more dynamic than just sitting at a table and reading it, like we did
the first time around.”

“My
performance seems flat.”

“You
just need practice,” Michael said. “When we run it again, go for it. Be the
squirrel.”

“I
should have that on a T-shirt, or something.” Stacy smiled. “Be the squirrel!”

“Hear
that? The way your voice rose? That’s what we’re looking for. You have to relax
into it. Don’t be afraid to sound goofy, or crazy. Bibi is both of those
things. Be the squirrel.”

There
was a tap on the door, and Adam and Sean entered. “How’s it going?”

“Good
timing,” Christine said. “We’re done for the day.”

Disappointment
flipped in Stacy’s stomach. “I thought we were going for one more recording?”

Christine
shook her head. “Monday is soon enough.” She glanced at her cell phone. “We’ve
been working for hours; your voice will be getting tired, even if you’re not.”

The
other actors stood. “I have to get home,” Michael said. “I have to collect my
kids from a minder.”

She
hadn’t learned much about her co-stars. “You live locally?”

“About
half an hour away,” Michael said.

“And
I live in Clifden,” Bill said. “When Sean started the company, the first thing
he did was interview voice talent in the local area. Five local actors worked
on our last production.”

“So
am I the only one who’s come far?”

“Carson,
the actor who’s playing Bibi’s love interest from the big city, is an American
who lives in London. But yes, apart from Carson, everyone lives in Ireland. There
are a lot of creatives living in Ireland, more than enough to fulfill all our
needs. Some of the animation crew has worked in American studios, and some for
larger studios that had bases in Ireland. It’s different from a movie crew,
where you have contracted people forming the crew, we’re a much tighter knit
bunch.”

The
atmosphere through the day had been so positive, Stacy couldn’t wait for
tomorrow. “Working with you guys has been great.” There was a sense of camaraderie,
an openness about the whole process, that set her at ease, and lightened her
mood. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that today went so well.”

Everyone
made for the door.

Outside
the building, the sky was darkening, but the prospect of being alone with Adam
again put her on edge.

“I
thought we’d grab dinner in a restaurant on our way home. Unless you’re too
tired?” Adam opened the car door for her automatically. “If you’re beat, I have
food at home.”

“I’d
love to go out.” She glanced down at her jeans. “I’m not really dressed for
dinner.”

“You’re
fine.” With a smile, he climbed into the car and started the engine. “The place
we’re going is casual, but the food is to die for.”

Stacy
couldn’t hold back a smile when they arrived at the restaurant a little while
later. “Pizza?”

“Still
your favorite?”

“Always.”
Her love for pizza had been a long running joke between them. They’d been to a
couple of industry dinners during their short lived marriage, where she’d
picked at the fancy food on offer, and picked up a pizza on the way home.

They
were directed to a table in front of large glass windows that faced the sea,
and handed menus.

Adam
ordered a bottle of wine.

Stacy
was so focused on the menu, she didn’t see a young woman approach until she was
right next to the table.

The
teenager was flushed. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but you’re Stacy Gold, aren’t
you?” She clutched a notebook and pen in her hands.

“I
am.” Stacy smiled. “Would you like an autograph?”

The
girl relaxed. “I really would. You’re my favorite singer. I just love your
stuff.”

“What’s
your name?”

“Aoife.”

Stacy’s
eyes widened. “Eefa? You’re going to have to spell that for me, honey.”

“A
O I F E,” the girl spelled slowly.  

Stacy
dedicated a message, and signed it.

“Could
I…” Aoife proffered her cell phone.

“Stacy’s
undercover,” Adam said.

Stacy
shook her head. She was Aoife’s favorite singer; there was no way she’d refuse
a selfie. “It’s fine,” she told Adam. “Come closer, Aoife.” Head to head, they
grinned for the shot.

“Thank
you so much.” Aoife smiled so wide her face must surely ache.

“No
problem.”

Stacy
watched the girl bounce back to her table, waving the notebook in triumph to an
older couple who must be her parents.

“That’ll
be all over the internet by the time we get home,” Adam said.

Other
diners had noticed, but no-one else bothered them.

“It
doesn’t matter. The secret was bound to escape sometime.” There was no way for
her to be anonymous, no matter where she travelled. And watching Aoife show off
the selfie to her parents with such obvious happiness was infectious. “She was
a nice kid.”

They
ordered.

“So
today was okay?” Adam asked.

“More
than okay. I was really worried about doing the voice over, but everyone was so
kind and helpful—they went out of their way to make me feel comfortable.”

“You’re
the star.” Their pizzas arrived, and the waitress placed a large green salad
between them then left them alone.

“Which
is frankly terrifying.” She picked a black olive off the top of her pizza and
popped it into her mouth. “My voice over sounded a bit flat, but Christine said
when we work on my vocal inflections, it will sound better. I don’t want to delay
the other actors by being slow, they’re so professional.”

“Michael
and Bill camein today to meet you and give you some pointers, but from here on
in it will be just you, Christine and the producer in the studio. She’ll read
opposite you, they’ll record your lines, then splice all the parts together in
post production.”