Coming Attractions Page 3

  “So, do you think Brian is deceitful or inept?” he asked, returning to their earlier topic as he selected a plate and made a show of being super careful as he dried it.

  She smiled. “I don’t think Brian would lie to me...”

  “He certainly seems to have a soft spot for you.”

  Was that a proprietary note she heard in his tone? One kiss didn’t give him any rights to her, even if the kiss was the most mind-blowing, body-shaking, sock-rocking kiss she had ever experienced, and even if she felt a prickle of delight at his high-handed attention.

  “Well, isn’t that lucky. He might put in a bit of extra effort when he’s looking for the scumbag who stole my bike. Meanwhile, thanks for offering to take me in to Ocean Ridge. My sister lives there. I guess I’ll bunk in with her family tonight.”

  Cara blushed, recalling that she had basically broken in to Flinders’ Keep last night and that she had no legitimate reason to be there. “And I am sorry for intruding on your property. I have no right to have stayed here last night. I was just... It was...”

  “Yeah.” He sighed, meeting her eyes. “Sometimes the past just keeps on dragging us back, no matter how hard we try and pull away...”

  He kissed her then. Not a hard, racy kiss this time, but something more tentative, exploratory and soft. It was an invitation and a question all at once and she found herself completely disarmed by Levi’s gentleness.

  Her body leaned into his. His hands slid down the length of her still damp hair and hers snagged his nape, drawing him closer until their bodies were molded as one. They fit together as though they had been designed for one another, she thought dimly in the instant before her body melted against his and her mind gave up the ability to form a coherent thought.

  His lips were supple and inquiring, his tongue tenderly probing. His unexpected care drew more than a physical reaction from her. Oh, her mouth burned with unsated hunger all right. Her skin flushed with pleasure, her breasts ached, her nipples tightened, and her sex throbbed, wet and hot. She sure as hell wanted him on a physical level with every sliver of her substance.

  But there was something underneath the material reaction of flesh and hormones and secretions—something intangible and untried. A nascent awareness waking somewhere inside her that was at once disconcerting and enticing. It was too new to name, too fluid to pin down, too fragile to define. But she felt it as surely as she felt his hands curl around her buttocks, as clearly as the rock hard erection now pressing against her pelvis.

  “I want you...” he breathed into her mouth. She felt more than heard the words, tasted them, swallowed them.

  Desire ripped through her. Her delicate emotional reaction was like a potent accelerant and she was consumed by a lusty fire that inflamed her until she no longer had any awareness of herself or her surroundings. There was only Levi, his mouth and his muscles and his engorged cock pressed hard against her groin.

  “Oh God, I want you, too,” she husked as she drew her face away from his, heated and breathless.

  Their eyes devoured one another, craving and celebrating and questioning all at once.

  At that moment, her stomach rumbled and the mood lightened a little, but he did not let her go.

  “Sounds like someone needs breakfast,” he laughed, dropping a kiss on the tip for her nose.

  “Mmmm, Levi on toast sounds just perfect,” she taunted, placing a string of small kisses along his jaw to his mouth.

  “We don’t have any toast,” he murmured, licking the seam of her lips, darting his tongue swiftly between them, and withdrawing it just as quickly.

  “Tease.” She grinned. “How about just Levi then?” She trailed her own tongue in the wake of his own, her eyes alight with the promise of delicious mischief.

  But her stomach growled again and Levi’s joined in the chorus.

  “I think we’ve been outvoted, Cara. And besides, Brian said there’s a bad storm coming. So, unless we want to get stranded here with nothing to eat but each other—”

  “You won’t find me complaining.”

  He laughed. “But your tummy is. Let me drive you to your sister’s place in Ocean Ridge. I need to pick up some supplies since I’m expecting an entire crew to arrive tomorrow... Are you pouting?”

  “Maybe a little,” she replied, hamming up her hangdog expression and turning her eyes hopeful and worshipful.

  “Would it cheer you up any if I suggested that once I’ve done my shopping and you’ve done your visiting, I swing by and pick you up and we eat dinner here together?”

  She let her eyes fill with mischief and changed her fake pout into a smoldering sexy smile.

  “What’s for dinner?” she purred provocatively.

  “Ramen noodles? Mac and cheese? A hard-boiled egg?” he answered glibly.

  Her eyes narrowed in make-believe vexation.

  “But I think I have something you’ll approve of for dessert.”

  Chapter Three

  Levi didn’t just drop her at the curb as Cara had expected him to. Instead, he helped her down from the silver Tacoma and walked her up the path to the front door of the 1930s brick house that belonged to her sister. It felt strange and, she had to admit, kind of nice to be escorted along the petunia-edged flagstones by a handsome man. She did a mental fast-forward to the movie premiere of Lost Treasure and imagined the two of them walking arm in arm down the red carpet.

  Whoa, cowgirl. Let’s not get too carried away!

  It was only a moment after her knock that two giggling children opened the door—a boy and a girl, both dressed in pink tulle, covered in sequins and glitter and sporting fairy wings and tiaras.

  “You’re Auntie Cara!”

  “You must be Josie...”

  But the girl had turned tail down the hallway shouting, “Mom, Auntie Cara is here! I can tell her from her photo.”

  The boy—Liam, she assumed—followed his sister as fast as his stubby legs would take him. Not to be outdone, he added, “And she has a man!”

  Cara and Levi exchanged an amused glance and a few seconds later, Mia appeared, wiping her hands on the edge of a polka dot apron. The woman broke into a trot as soon as she spotted Cara, and the two women embraced affectionately then held one another at arm’s length to assess the passage of time before hugging again.

  Finally, they drew apart and Cara stepped back to introduce Levi.

  “Mia, this is Levi Callister. He bought Flinders’ Keep, remember? He’s producing my next film.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr Callister—”

  “Levi.”

  “Levi,” Mia said, extending her hand and shaking his. “Won’t you both come in?”

  “Many thanks, Ms. Kelly—”

  “It’s Foster, but Mia is fine.”

  Cara opened her mouth to comment, but quickly closed it again. If her sister decided to keep her married name, that was her business.

  “My apologies, Mia. But there’s a storm brewing and I have some errands to take care of. I’ll come back for you…what? About four, Cara?”

  “Actually,” Cara corrected, “I have a couple of errands of my own. How about I meet you at four at Sails…if it’s still there?”

  “The old café’s doing a thriving trade again,” Mia assured them. “Business in Ocean Ridge is booming.”

  “So we hear,” said Cara.

  “In that case, done. See you then, then,” Levi said, and shot Cara a grin that was brimming with so much sinful intent that her legs actually trembled.

  “Well, he has more than a professional interest in you, by the looks of things,” Mia said primly as she closed the front door and led Cara down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “I only met him this morning!”

  “Works fast, too, then, I see. Josie, Liam, Freya! Come and greet your auntie properly now, please!”

  Mia moved to the counter and flicked the switch on the yellow kettle just as the two boisterous blond fairies came barrelling into the room, bundling Cara i
nto matching bear hugs. The third child, Freya, skulked up the rear with no sign of pink or sparkles and no indication of an imminent embrace either.

  Cara kissed the top of each fairy’s head, being careful not to dislodge their tiaras. She then extended her hand to Freya, who eyed her warily before cautiously taking her fingers in a firm shake.

  “Good to see you again, Freya,” Cara said in a businesslike tone.

  The older girl gave a grudging nod.

  “Okay, kids, go and play outside for a bit. There’s a storm on the way and I don’t need you climbing the walls once you’re holed up in here. Go run off some of that energy while you can. You can catch up with Auntie Cara later.”

  The children obediently tore across the kitchen and out the back door, slamming the flyscreen behind them.

  “Do they run everywhere?”

  “Everywhere,” Mia confirmed. “They’re always full on and flat out, as their father was.”

  Cara didn’t miss the slight emphasis on the past tense that still colored Mia’s conversations about her former husband.

  Mia had married her childhood sweetheart, Joe, right after high school. They had been a solid loving match. Joe had been a model husband and provider, and their life together seemed to make Mia happy. Mia had thrived on mothering their three children and turning the old house they had bought into a home.

  Whenever Cara had watched them, thought about their cozy existence, she had felt…stifled. There was no way she could settle for the kind of bland, predictable life her sister had chosen. Sports all weekend, slow renovations, nine-to-five jobs, jolly street parties with the neighbors, not to mention scraped knees and winter colds, hard won promotions, study, and the kind of day-to-day domestics that would have done Cara’s head in.

  Maybe they did Joe’s head in because one November day three years ago, he packed up and shipped out, leaving his family behind. There were still odd spaces where his belongings had been—a blank square on the wall over the lowboy dresser, empty corners where twin black Bose speakers had stood, and an open space on the end of the kitchen table where there had always been a jigsaw puzzle in progress.

  “Tea still okay? Black? Have you eaten?” Mia asked.

  “Yes. Yes. And no.”

  “Will toast do? What do you want on it?”

  Cara’s mouth tilted up in a spontaneous smile, thinking of Levi. “Er...cheese would be great if you have it. Want me to make it?”

  “You sit and tell me what’s been happening in your life. It’s been too long,” Mia chided.

  Cara drank her tea and ate her toast and told Mia a little about her recent projects, some funny yarns about her travels, and about the dramatic theft of her precious motorcycle that morning.

  “You still gallivanting round on two wheels, Cara? Heavens, you’re twenty-eight years old and still living like a teenager.” There was no heat in the comment, but Cara knew the disapproval was real and quashed a familiar prickle of defensiveness.

  It was a fair point, Cara acknowledged. Rootless and solitary, Cara didn’t own property, didn’t possess a car. She lived her life out of a San Francisco studio apartment she rented cheaply from a director friend, but it was more a place to store her few belongings and crash between trips than any kind of home.

  Mia, on the other hand, was the type to put down deep roots. As she told it, when Joe insisted on moving on to bigger and better career opportunities in a new and more glamorous locale, Mia had chosen to let him go without her rather than pull up her family.

  That decision had raised many questions for Cara—like, if Mia had loved Joe, wouldn’t she have followed him to the ends of the earth? And if she hadn’t loved him, why had she married him?

  Cara had witnessed the moment Joe and Mia had first met. Even today the memory seemed fresh, the deep and instant attraction tangible. So, how could Mia let Joe go? Had their relationship really curdled so much over the decade they lived together that they wanted to split? Was it some deep flaw handed down from their mother, something that compelled the family to destroy their love relationships and familial bonds?

  Cara had never had any kind of real relationship with a man, so she felt in no position to judge her sister, or even to begin to understand the inner workings of a supposedly lasting and intimate bond like a marriage.

  She sighed. She and her sister were as different as milk and marbles, she acknowledged, though their similar looks belied that truth. Mia was a little shorter and a lot curvier than Cara, but both of them sported the long, thick honey blonde hair their mother had bequeathed. Their features were alike, but Cara’s face, like her frame, was honed and angular. Her eyes were bluer. It was almost as though Cara was drawn sharply where Mia was all dreamy soft focus.

  “Yeah, still footloose and fancy free. What about you, Mia? The garden’s come along beautifully. Last time I was here, you were only digging the beds. Now, it looks like the botanical gardens.”

  Mia’s face lit with pride and she stood, inviting Cara to follow her into the backyard. Fruit trees laden with plums and apricots bowed over raised garden beds flourishing with vegetables and herbs. Flower gardens in full bloom edged the yard and a broad paved patio yielded to a lush green lawn where Josie and Liam frolicked with their magic wands.

  “I don’t know if it’s something I should worry about,” Mia confessed, gesturing toward her son. “Josie has always been a girlie girl. She loves to play fairies and princesses and mermaids. Just recently, Liam has been joining in. He’s into the dress-up box more than she is. They both love wearing Mom’s old things, all those outlandish silks and velvets, the sequins, the glitter and junk jewelery—the trashier the better. It’s like they’re channelling her gaudiness just to try my patience. It’s one thing for a little girl...”

  “Kids experiment,” Cara assured her sister, though she had no idea if that was true. “It’s a phase he’ll likely grow out of.”

  Cara thought about adding that if Liam didn’t leave the love of dress ups behind in his childhood, it wouldn’t really matter. She knew plenty of men in the film world who didn’t fit the conventional masculine role. But somehow, she knew her traditional sister would take no comfort from that sentiment. So, she switched topics, again.

  “What about Freya? How’s she doing?” Cara asked, spotting the young girl furiously weeding one of the garden beds.

  If anything, the new subject made Mia’s brow furrow further. “She’s such serious kid. So somber and stoic. Joe leaving hit her hard. I think she feels responsible in some way. It sounds crazy, but it’s almost like she thinks she needs to be the ‘man of the house.’ She mows lawns and delivers papers to earn money that she never spends. And she’s always tidying up after the other kids or making dinner so it’s in the oven when I get home from work, or changing washers in the faucets... I’ve tried to talk to her, but I just can’t get through.” Mia gave an edgy laugh. “It’s topsy-turvy, really. Most parents are trying to get their kids to be more responsible. I just wish Freya would goof off a little. Be a kid. You know?”

  “I hear you,” Cara said. “Want me to talk to her? Give her some words of wisdom from the crazy, irresponsible branch of the family tree?”

  “I never said you were crazy or—”

  “It’s okay, Mia. I was kidding.” Kind of.

  “Oh. Of course. A chat with Freya sure can’t hurt.”

  “And what about Joe?” Cara asked, her concern overriding her sense of boundaries. “Is he in touch? Paying child support?”

  “Like clockwork. I’m putting it aside for the kids’ educations. Freya, at least, is college material.”

  “It must be hard for you without him.”

  “Seems to be a family curse.” Mia shrugged. “Grandpa Hank left Grandma Beth when the kids were small. Dad disappeared when we were babies. I shouldn’t be surprised that Joe left me. It was like history repeating. At least he didn’t go and get himself shot to death by Middle Eastern thugs like Dad.”

  It physical
ly hurt her to see her sister so despondent and she could only imagine Joe’s pain in living without the woman he clearly loved. When two souls were so obviously meant to be together, it was excruciating to watch them tear their love to shreds.

  “I’m so sorry, Mia.”

  “Forget it,” Mia said brusquely. “I’m not inclined to wallow. He’s gone. There’s nothing I can do about it except get on with my life and do my best for the kids. Speaking of, why don’t you go and have a word to Freya, if you’re still willing. She’s heading for her hidey hole, the tree house. I’ll go and fix some lunch.”

  ****

  As Cara climbed the creaky rope ladder to the tree house in the old elm, she could hear Freya moving about and papers being shuffled. She rapped lightly on the trapdoor. For a moment, the rustling sounds stopped dead. Cara waited. Eventually, the trapdoor swung open and a pair of serious gray eyes stared down at her.

  “May I come in?”

  The girl paused, thought about the request, then finally nodded a wary acquiescence.

  Glad she was not overweight, Cara squeezed through the tight opening and into the tiny but immaculate space.

  “You keep the place pretty clean. My tree house used to be a dog’s breakfast—full of cobwebs and junk food wrappers and comics.”

  Freya didn’t respond. She just watched Cara cautiously.

  Cara tried again. “I notice you’re working on something there.” She nodded at a bundle of papers beside the little girl. “Something interesting?”

  Freya nodded but didn’t elaborate.

  Finally, Cara eased into a more comfortable position with her back against the wall and relaxed. If Freya didn’t want to talk right now, that was okay. She would just share the tree house space for a while and let the girl get used to her presence. There would be other opportunities to talk.

  Over the next fifteen or twenty minutes, the silence grew more comfortable. Eventually, Freya picked up the papers beside her and began to skim them, making corrections and adjustments with a serious scowl. She paused and glanced up when Cara shifted position, but then carried on with her project.