Wishbones (8 page)

Estelle was a disturbed young woman. I could pity her, and her father, but it wasn't up to me to solve what had happened to Suzy Dutton.

"Let's take a walk, Sarah Booth. Then we can go into town and have a nice dinner."

I looked across at the man who was doing everything in his power to make me happy. I'd waited such a long time for this moment. "Sounds perfect, Graf. I'm ravenous."

It was a good thing Graf and I took a long walk, because when we got to the small restaurant and the delicious meal was placed in front of me, I ate like a politician at the trough. Graf was even amused. He teased me gently, and then ordered a rich and chocolaty dessert that was incredible. The man was spoiling me rotten, and I loved every second of it. No one except my parents had ever treated me with such love.

We were laughing as we walked up the cobbled street outside the cafe. I was slightly tipsy from wine, and Graf had proposed a skinny-dipping session in the calmer waters of the small cove behind Federico's mansion. The moon sparkled on the glassy water and silvered the sand.

I was reluctant, but I wasn't going to say no--until he got naked. Then I intended to snatch up his clothes and run. It was going to be payback for the tickle session earlier in the day. I was buzzed, but I hadn't forgotten that Graf had one-upped me.

We passed the drive to the mansion, and I glanced toward the house. My heart stopped. The silhouette of a man, backlit by the house lights, made my heart flip. Coleman Peters. I recognized the broad shoulders, the tapered waist. Coleman had come to Costa Rica to find me.

"What's wrong?" Graf asked. He, too, was slightly inebriated, but not enough that he missed the stricken look that surely touched my face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

The silhouette walked toward us with that self-confident stride. My heart pounded and my mouth was dry.

"Can I help you?" the man asked in English with a heavy Spanish accent.

I tried to speak but couldn't. "No," Graf said. "We're going down to the beach before we turn in."

The security guard nodded. "The cove is nice for swimming. Not the ocean. It isn't safe."

"Thank you." Graf lightly grasped my arm and assisted me down the path. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I was dizzy for a moment." I wanted to cry. Every time I thought I was beginning to heal from Coleman, something happened to rip the scab off and reveal the open wound.

It wasn't fair. Not to me and certainly not to Graf.

"Let's go skinny-dipping." I put a challenge into my words. Before he could react, I stepped out of my sandals and I ran toward the beautiful beach of the small cove. I left my sundress and underwear in a trail behind me as I skimmed over grass and then sand, determined to leave behind the hurt and disappointment of Coleman Peters before I hit the cold embrace of the water.

Graf was beside me when I came up for air, sputtering and gasping. The water was cold silk sliding over my body. Graf's hands, when he grasped my waist, were warm and familiar.

I turned to him and kissed him, blotting out everything except him and the freedom of the water.

"Are you sure, Sarah Booth?" he asked.

My answer was another kiss, one that left no doubt of what I wanted.

In the back of my mind I could hear Jitty. "Girl, you're jumpin' out of the fryin' pan and into the fire."

I tuned her out. She was another betrayer. She'd abandoned
me. It was up to me to craft the life I wanted, and right now I wanted to feel wanted. I needed the intimacy of Graf's kisses and his embrace.

He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the beach where he made a makeshift pallet of our discarded clothes. Beneath the rising moon, we made love, and I clung to Graf and the magic of his touch.

I awoke in the early hours of the morning, thirsty and with a headache. Beside me, Graf slept peacefully. It took a moment for me to recognize the sounds that had awakened me. Sweetie Pie was pacing the room, going to the door again and again on clickety nails, a soft whine telling me of her need to go out.

Slipping from the bed, I grabbed a gown and slid it over my head. Barefooted, I padded across the room and opened the door. Sweetie Pie bolted forward with a low growl that caught me by surprise. She was after something.

Or someone.

I gave chase. She was ahead of me in the hallway, almost to the stairs, her growl louder, more ferocious.

"Sweetie!" I whispered loudly, hoping to bring her back to me. When she didn't respond, I had no choice but to follow.

"Sweetie Pie Delaney!" I ran down the stairs just in time to see the hem of a red dress disappearing out the front door that closed on a soft slam. Someone had been in the house. Estelle? Out to cause more mayhem for her father? I grabbed Sweetie's collar so she couldn't follow and opened the door.

Outside, moonlight strong enough to cast shadows lit the grounds. There was no sign of anyone on the front lawn or down the drive. My heart raced, but I forced myself to take deep breaths.

"Can I help you?"

The male voice coming from less than five feet away almost made me scream. I swiveled and saw the security guard
standing in the shadow of a porch column. "Did you see someone come out the door?"

He shook his head slowly. "No one left the house. I've been here all evening."

"But I saw . . ." What had I seen? "The door opened and--"

"No, senorita. The door hasn't opened all evening."

Still gripping Sweetie's collar as she tugged against me, I thanked the guard and closed the door.

Around me the house was silent, and I went to the kitchen for some water. The "ghostly visitor" had finished the job of sobering me up, and I sat at the huge kitchen table to think about the last few hours. I didn't regret the passion I'd shared with Graf, but worry nagged at me. My feelings for him weren't clear, and the act of making love seemed like a promise I wasn't certain I could honor.

Outside the kitchen window, I saw the sun brighten the horizon. Dawn would be upon me soon, and I had a hard day of shooting. Would the intimacy that Graf and I had shared affect our on-camera intensity? Anxiety rode me like a cruel rider with spurs.

Someone stirred in the depths of the house. Sweetie stood and wagged her tail as Federico came into the kitchen.

"Sarah Booth, what are you doing up so early?" When he looked at me more closely, he sighed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied. "Too much wine and too little sleep."

"The doctor at the hospital said Joey is going to be fine, Sarah Booth. Go back to bed. I'll send someone to get you when you're needed on the set. Take some ice to put on your eyes. Michelle is an excellent makeup artist, but she can't compensate for lack of sleep."

"Thanks, Federico." I might not be able to sleep, but at least I could try. With some ice wrapped in a towel in my hand, I was almost back at my room when I heard my cell phone ringing. I dashed the rest of the way and answered it just as Graf gave me a sleepy "good morning" smile.

"Sarah Booth! Are you okay?" Tinkie's voice was worried. She had to be upset to be awake at 6:00
A.M.

"I'm fine, why?" I wondered if my friend had some kind of radar that made her aware of my indiscretion with Graf.

"Millie just called. It's all over the entertainment news."

"What?" I was lost.

"Someone is sabotaging your film. That young man was seriously injured, nearly killed!" The more she talked, the louder she got.

My first impulse was to calm her. "Joey is going to be okay. He took a fall. Broken wrist, two broken ribs. No serious injuries."

"That's not the way the media is playing it. They're calling this movie cursed. They're saying that the movie may shut down."

I considered telling her that the balustrade had been damaged, but it would serve no good purpose. She was already worried, and she was a thousand miles away. "Things are under control."

"That's not very reassuring."

Graf rose from the bed and came to put his arms around me. His lips found the sensitive spot on my neck and sent shivers all over me.

"Sarah Booth, are you carrying on with that actor?"

She did have radar. "Everything is fine here."

"That's not an answer." Her worry had turned to suspicion. "You sound . . . satisfied. You slept with Graf, didn't you?"

It was impossible to have this conversation with Graf nibbling at my neck and earlobes. "I have to get ready for my scene."

"Listen here, Marilyn Monroe, talk to Federico and tell him that your friends from Zinnia are on the next flight out. Obviously you need someone to come out there and keep you safe."

Happiness made me grip the phone harder. "You're coming? Really?"

"Me and Cece and Millie. Have someone pick us up at the Petaluma airport."

"I can't believe it." I was thrilled.

"You'd better believe it, and tell that gigolo he's going to answer to me if his intentions aren't honorable."

I didn't have to tell him. He was close enough to the phone to hear.

"I intend to make love to Sarah Booth until she begs for mercy," he said into the phone. "After that, it's up to her what happens."

"I'll see you soon," I said before she could respond to Graf. "I love you, Tinkie." I snapped the phone closed.

"Come back to bed." He put his words into action as he picked me up and placed me gently back in the bed. "Now let's pick up where we left off."

I didn't have a better plan for the early morning hours so I returned his kisses. If I couldn't look rested for the camera, at least I could look like the cat that got the canary.

Graf and I appeared on the set, causing a series of speculative glances in our direction. Had someone seen us on the beach, or heard us in the mansion? I wasn't ashamed of my actions, but I had a degree of modesty. I fought the flush that would betray me.

Federico had replaced the defective balustrade with a plaster piece, but it was clearly marked so that I wouldn't lean against it. The rest of the balustrade had been tested for safety.

I went up to my room and stepped onto the balcony. The wind fans were started and the chimes rang a beautiful song of light and dark notes. The silky length of the dressing gown blew against my body, reminding me of the feel of the water the previous night, which led to thoughts of Graf and the things he'd done to me . . . and the things I'd done to him.

"Close up on her face!" Federico directed.

I looked down and saw Graf walk onto the lawn, his shirt
rumpled and his tie askew. Desire licked at me like hungry flames.

Below I heard Federico ordering camera shots, but I forgot everything except the role I was playing and "Ned," a man I meant to seduce, use, and destroy.

When Federico yelled cut, I stepped back from the balcony and into my room. My heart was pounding. I'd gone so deeply into Matty that I'd lost myself. There was a rap on the door of my bedroom. When I opened it, Federico grasped me in a bear hug and kissed both cheeks.

"You are
caliente
! I thought you were going to melt the camera lens. I think Graf is worried, Sarah Booth. You looked as if you meant to eat him!" He kissed my cheeks again. "The camera loves you!"

I tried to blink myself back into the real world, but it was hard, moving from a character into my body.

"Go up to the ballroom and let Dallas help you get ready for the next scene," Federico said. "The clothes are all up there, and she's waiting for you, along with the makeup artist. Just a little refresher."

"Little refresher" my ass--I was sweating like a ditchdigger. The day was warm, but my thoughts had been so torrid that I'd worked up a sweat without moving.

"Thanks, Federico, I will."

He gave me another hug and then went back to his job. I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face and neck. This was more than I'd bargained for. Maybe it was a sign, though, that I was becoming a better actress--that I could give myself to the part so successfully.

"Maybe it's a sign you're turnin' into a damn psychotic!"

I heard Jitty as clearly as if she were standing at my side. I looked up into the mirror, half expecting to see her. Instead, I saw a face filled with fury.

Long fingers dug into the flesh of my arm above the elbow.

"Mother doesn't want you here. Get out!"

I whirled, grabbing for her, but I was too slow. Estelle fled the room. I didn't bother to pursue her. She knew the house backward and forward. She'd elude me, as she'd done before. In the future, I would lock my door
and
I'd tell Federico that his security team was too lax. I was tired of Estelle popping in and out of my room like some demented jack-in-the-box.

Once I'd cooled off a little and gathered my wits, I headed up the stairs to the third-floor ballroom where Dallas Brown had set up the clothes for the shoots. She'd done a superb job of selecting for me. The designs were sexy in an understated, purely adult way, and it was a joy to gossip with her about her past work experiences. She was always insightful and never cruel.