Risking It All Page 13

  That’s why they invented coffee, she supposed. She took several sips of the cup Stella had left for her and hoped she could hold out for a while.“You’re on fire with this one, Ri,” her friend said. Stella had been looking over her shoulder at some of the frames as Rina merged her shots with the ones Zoot had captured. “I don’t know how you’re keeping up the pace.”

  “Me, neither,” she murmured, jotting down notes as she went through the day’s film frame by frame, feeling the excitement build, because she knew it was working. Really working.

  It was a great feeling.

  “So, are you sneaking out again tonight?” Stella asked, and then she held up her hands. “Wait, don’t answer that. You’ll incriminate yourself.”

  She still wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about the way he’d manipulated her that afternoon. Granted, the climb had been exhilarating, but why did he care so much about her career, and why did she mind that he did?

  “Your aunt dropped this off for you earlier. Said she’s under deadline, but she’ll see you for dinner tomorrow night,” Stella said, and handed her a manila envelope.

  “Oh, good. She’d promised me some articles about the psychology of the commando.”

  “Those will help me out a lot.”

  “I thought you were gathering your own firsthand research. With Hollywood.”

  “His real name’s Jason. And I told you, he’s interested in having his cards read,” Stella told her. How she managed to say it with a straight face was beyond Rina, but she was too interested in the articles. Maybe they would give her some insight into Cash.

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what he’s interested in,” she said.

  “I’m interested in how Cash got you to climb so high,” Stella commented.

  “He promised me that I could use his interview tape. Heavily edited, of course.” Rina shook her head. “Of course, if I want it, I have got to go get it. And I’ve still got to show him the day’s rough cut for approval.”

  “You can always show him in the morning.”

  Rina shook her head. “I want to keep the pace. Waiting will slow things up.”

  “Just make sure you get some kind of sleep tonight,” Stella said. Rina noticed her friend was dressed and holding her tarot cards. And car keys.

  “You, too,” she mumbled as she turned back to the screen. She worked for a few more hours straight through, thanks to the caffeine boost, and by the time she ended up at Cash’s house, her mind full of commandos, it was sometime after midnight.

  “Sorry about the late hour. But I’m here to show you today’s rough cut,” she said all at once because she didn’t want to leave him any room to turn her away.

  “I don’t sleep much, anyway,” he said, moving aside to let her in.

  She wasn’t sure if it was the combination of coffee and lack of rest, or maybe it was the fact that every time she saw Cash she got hit a little harder at how much she really liked him, but her head swam. She clutched the doorframe for support, but he was quicker, grabbed her around the waist and shepherded her inside the house.

  He had her on the couch, pushed her head between her legs, instructing her to take deep breaths. In through the nose and out through the mouth.

  After a few minutes, she felt well enough to sit up.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked. She tried to think back over the day, and she remembered M&M’s at some point. “Hey, if you’ve got to think that hard about it, it means you need food.”

  “I guess so,” she agreed.

  “You’re pushing it too hard.”

  “Look who’s talking. Did you just come in from a run or something?” she asked. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, his hair wrapped in a bandana and his thighs and calves were marked with mud.

  “Only a short one. It relaxes me before bed.”

  The doorbell rang and he looked toward it.

  “Expecting someone?” she asked, as she checked her watch and saw that it was indeed after midnight.

  “Yeah, I am, actually.”

  “Oh. Well, I won’t keep you from your late-night visitor.”

  He rolled his eyes at her. “Just stay there. I don’t need you almost fainting on me again.”

  She turned and watched him stride to the door and quickly determined that it was food delivery, not a woman. Her stomach growled as the delicious smell of fried rice and egg rolls floated up by her nose.

  He put the food down in front of her on the coffee table, disappeared into the kitchen and came out with plates and sodas.

  “I want you to sit and eat and relax. Do not start looking at the film,” he instructed.

  “Aren’t you eating?” she asked, even as she began scooping out food onto her plate.

  “I’m going to wash off first. Try and stay out of trouble, all right?”

  “Yes, sir,” she muttered, and gave him a mock salute. She unwrapped an egg roll and wondered if he’d ordered all this food for himself, or if he was expecting her to come over. She’d ask him, right after the rice and egg rolls worked their way to her stomach and he finished his shower.

  Fifteen minutes later, she lay back against the couch, eyes closed in that sleepy, comfortable way a good meal could make you feel. Her head felt better, wasn’t pounding anymore, and she kicked her shoes off and thought about joining Cash in the shower.

  Of course, he’d have to carry her up the stairs again, and her skin tingled at the memory of last night.

  “Did you leave any food for me?” Cash’s voice broke through her reverie.

  “I’m not sure. It’s kind of a blur,” she admitted, opening her eyes as she felt the couch cushions shift. He was sitting next to her, reaching into that same laundry basket of clean clothes for a shirt.

  At the moment, he wore only a pair of shorts. The evidence of that day’s training exercise, in the form of scratches down his chest, was highly visible against the fading purplish-yellow bruise pattern on his ribs. She reached out to trace the scratches and he just watched her with that way he had, a cross between indulgence and desire.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s just…” she started, then couldn’t finish her thought.

  “You see the bruises, the hurt, and it makes you want to reach out and touch me? Makes you want to take care of me, doesn’t it?” he asked.

  She nodded, couldn’t deny it, especially because she’d automatically reached out to touch his stomach, his side, her palm pressed lightly to the center of the bruise that was far bigger than her palm. He sighed, like he’d heard it before and didn’t believe her.

  “Does that hurt?” she asked.

  “Little bit,” he said.

  “When will it stop hurting? When will it heal?”

  He took her hand and moved it away from his skin. “In its own time, Rina.”

  “Cash—”

  “I’ve got the tape for you. I’ll watch the rough cut in the morning at the base. Why don’t you let me drive you back to the hotel?”

  “It’s already happened, so just once more couldn’t hurt, right?” she asked, her voice soft as she continued to trace circles along his chest.

  HURT DIDN’T BEGIN to describe it, but Cash knew better than to try and fight this. Much. And really, Rina’s “it already happened once” theory was a nice way to justify it, and certainly his body was more than willing to oblige her.

  “Mac doesn’t have to know, and he’s still out of town, anyway,” she continued.“I don’t want to talk about him anymore. You don’t understand. I’m indebted to him.”

  “But if there was something between us. If this was more than a fling…if it’s bigger than both of us,” she said, and he hoped the half panic he felt didn’t cross his face.

  “You said it yourself last night—this is a fling.” Though he hated the rawness in his voice.

  “Maybe I was lying,” she said. “Maybe we need to give this a chance and see where it goes.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose w
ith his fingers and tried to ignore the roaring sound of a freight train driving through his skull. He didn’t want her to go back to the hotel, had waited, hoped she’d show tonight. Had even run by her hotel to make sure she was there, and all right, he’d even thought about knocking on the door, but at the last minute he’d turned away and come home.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think I’m an idiot,” he muttered. “This is just between us?”

  “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

  “Who am I going to tell?” he asked, and she raised a brow. “Okay, Justin might’ve found out.”

  “Might’ve?”

  “All right, he knows.”

  “And the others?”

  “None of the others know,” he said. Because if wishing could make something true, that would be the most truthful thing he’d ever said in his life, at least in the last five minutes.

  She totally didn’t believe him, and he couldn’t understand how he’d gotten involved with this woman and her lie-detector, no-tolerance-for-bullshit brain.

  Beauty, brains, and she wanted him. This couldn’t be good.

  He noticed that she was fighting a yawn. “Rina, you’re crashing hard. You’ll get some sleep if I have to put you to bed myself.”

  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “The you-putting-me-to-bed part. Not the sleep part.” She stretched, arms above her head, and then rolled her neck from side to side, probably in an attempt to release some of the tension built up from hours spent staring at a computer screen.

  He let his hands find the right place, kneading into the tight muscles along the back of her neck with strong fingers, letting his thumbs work the biggest kinks. Her skin was soft and warm, and sitting this close to her was making him fast lose any resolve to let her sleep.

  She moaned in appreciation. “That feels great.”

  “You worked hard today,” he said.

  “I had fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “I always have fun when I’m working, even today, when you decided to make things tough on me. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I saw most of your team smiling, too.”

  He grumbled, muttered something about how his team members were too busy looking at Stella to focus properly. He knew none of them would touch her since she’d been out on a date with their CO. Stella did, however, read Rev’s tarot cards and now had Justin worried about his aura.

  “Stella always has that effect on men,” she assured him.

  “So do you,” he said.

  “You were the only one looking at me today,” she said, and stopped and blushed, like she hadn’t meant to admit to that. He was glad—really glad—she’d noticed.

  “Is that a bad thing?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Then let me let you in on a secret. My team’s definitely interested in watching you, but there’s a good reason they’re keeping their eyes in their own heads.”

  “My uncle?”

  “Me,” he replied.

  “Oh.” She smiled and then stopped. “I thought you said they don’t know about us?”

  “Not from me, but they’re not stupid.”

  “No, none of you are stupid. Too smart for your own good,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’m really smart to try something like this at this point in my career.”

  “When do you find out about the executive officer position?” she asked.

  “How do you know about that?” And then he waved his hand. “Sorry. Forgot. Or, at least, trying to forget who your uncle is. Soon, maybe. There’s always a lot of red tape and bureaucracy that has to happen before things go through.”

  “I guess we’ve both got a lot going on. Lots of important things.”

  “Guess so,” he said, and noted the time—it was well after one a.m. “Are you staying here tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said. She let him lead her to the bedroom, where he gave her a T-shirt to sleep in. She went into the bathroom and emerged a few minutes later, wearing the T-shirt and her face washed clean. Her cheeks were pink, her hair tumbled over her shoulders and she didn’t hesitate to climb into the bed. She snuggled against him and he liked it. It was comfortable. Warm.

  “I know you didn’t get to show me the film, but did you get your other work done tonight?”

  “Some. I spent part of tonight reading about the psychology of the commando.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked, a wry smile on his lips. “And what did you learn?”

  “Some very interesting things. For instance, did you know that your hormones actually help you in high-stress situations?”

  “My hormones help me in other areas, too,” he said, his hand beginning a slow slide up her thigh. She turned into his caress.

  “There was a study done of elite special forces soldiers, which showed that, during combat situations, your brain emits a special hormone that acts as a relaxer. And I also learned that you’re more sensitive to stressful situations, not less sensitive,” she continued, letting her bare thighs brush his until their legs were tangled together under the covers.

  “So your film will concentrate on the sensitive side of the commando?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Tell me more about this grant you’re going for.”

  “Well, first I want to research relief workers in third world countries—you know, what makes a person risk their lives for barely any money, no recognition. I want to know what’s different about them.”

  Cash shifted, felt his hands begin to fist into the blankets, but he stopped himself. God, he didn’t want to think about this, not now. Even though Rina might actually be the best one to talk to about what happened to his parents in Africa.

  But the tightness in his throat told him it wasn’t the time. It was her time.

  “People like that make a lot of sacrifices, some of them good, some of them not so good,” he said finally. “Why are you so fascinated with this?”

  “I don’t know, really. A lot has to do with watching the work my uncle once did. I’ve always been curious about why certain people took risks. Like you, for instance. Your career and your hobby—both dangerous. Why? What drives you?”

  “This isn’t about me.”

  “Aren’t you scared sometimes?” she asked.

  “A lot of the time,” he said. “If you’re scared, that means you’re doing it right.”

  “I guess I’ve been doing it right, since I’m always afraid.”

  “No one knows what they’re capable of until they’re pushed to their limits,” he said and wondered again if he should just tell her, right here and now, that he was a fraud, unable to face a part of his past no matter how many times Justin and even Mac had offered to help.

  “Yes, pushing limits is really the basis of my grant proposal.”

  Cash moved to rest his head on her shoulder. “Then, if you believe that, you also need to believe that you should push yourself past those limits every chance you get. Like you did today.”

  “I’m trying. But, according to you, it’s not translating to my films.”

  “I think you’re a good filmmaker.”

  “Good being the operative word. Not great. Not spectacular. Just good. Which is almost as bad as fine.”

  He leaned his head against the pillows. “Good filmmaker because you pick safe subjects.”

  “Yes, drag racing is a very safe thing,” she said, and he caught the heavy sarcasm in her voice.

  “Not safe for the people in it—safe for you.” He paused, rubbed his hand against his chin. “Where’s your risk?”

  She didn’t say anything for a long time.

  “It’s not a knock,” he said, and she nodded. “I know you’ve got it up here,” he said, finger to her temple. “But you need to get it in here.” He put his fist gently up to her chest, next to her heart.

  “You make me feel so exposed, Cash,” she whispered. “Every time I’m with you. Like you can see through to my deepest fears. How is it po
ssible?”

  “I know all about fears, Rina. Trust me on that,” he said quietly, and the slow, lazy heat that had built between them during the past hours tugged at him. He traced her lower lip with his thumb, and leaned down to kiss her, inhaling her fresh, sweet scent, loving the way she immediately returned the kiss with the same passion. She’d done so whenever they’d been together like this.

  He eased her onto her back and spread her thighs gently. She hadn’t bothered with underwear.

  “Now who’s going commando?” he asked.

  “I figured you’d appreciate it.” She gave him a sleepy smile that made her look innocent as hell. But he knew better now.

  “I do appreciate it, baby. I do,” he murmured and bent his head to her neck so he could breathe her in. She raked her short nails lightly down his back and a small shudder overtook his body.

  He grabbed a condom from his nightstand drawer quickly, and pressed her body against the mattress, trapping her beneath him as he rocked his way inside of her without any further overture, needing to be as close to her as possible.

  “Mmmmmm, Cash,” she moaned softly as the bed began to shake from his effort. She was pushing up her hips to keep time with his thrusts and he took note of how much freer she seemed now, with him. The way she was when she was behind the camera—without worries or inhibitions.

  Her ankles locked securely around his waist, her breasts rubbed his chest and he closed his eyes and buried himself deep until she cried out his name again and again, just the way he liked it.

  14

  “ALL CLEAR,” Cash spoke softly into his headset. The fog was lifting, too fast, and pretty soon their position was going to be discovered if they didn’t make it across to the LZ soon.

  He looked ahead to Hunt, who motioned for them to haul ass across the jungle. His thighs ached from being crouched in one position for too long, and he prayed his feet weren’t asleep. After hours of this, it was hard to tell—everything went beyond pins and needles straight to numb.Still, he was up and running in seconds, pushing above and beyond his limits to get where he needed to be. Within five minutes, the helo was whizzing overhead and they were fast-roping up the short distance. Once inside, the helo took off from the barrier island where the training exercises had been held for that day. He rested his head and let the loud roar occupy his mind.