Before his six years with Nadia, he’d screwed plenty of costars, most of them. It was normal, with four months together, socializing with the crew a non-possibility, for the leads to gravitate toward each other. Lines were often run late at night over drinks. And lines and drinks typically led to drunk kisses and drunker sex. Costar sex had often been good but never great. Then he had met Nadia, fallen for Nadia, and never looked back, never been tempted, never yielded to a costar’s pathetic play at an affair.

And sex with Nadia had always been good, it had been the basis of their relationship, now that he stepped back and examined it. But sex with Summer… that experience had been another league entirely. He had lost his mind in those moments in her bedroom. Touching her, the feel of being inside her, her kiss, her sounds… he had let himself, in her bedroom, enjoy her, want her, worship her. He’d been, in that moment, completely hers. And that, more than their tension, more than Brad DeLuca and his threats, is what scared the absolute hell out of Cole.

He rounded the bend and headed home, extending his stride and pushing the last half-mile hard. He needed to shower. Jack off. Get in some type of a reasonable mind-set before he called DeLuca back and then headed into town.

SCENE #22. That was on the docket today. Rewritten to incorporate the kiss that didn’t happen yesterday. He kept his eyes straight ahead, on the narrow strip of clay, and didn’t look to Summer’s house. A kiss. Child’s play.

Between the swing of his stride, he felt himself grow hard at the thought, and he groaned in protest.

He was fucked. Absolutely, unequivocally, fucked.

CHAPTER 71

“I need you in California this afternoon.” Brad DeLuca didn’t mince words, his greeting skipping straight to the point. Cole stuck the end of the hose in the kiddie pool and twisted the nozzle. Cocky liked the kiddie pool, especially on a day like today, where it was gearing up to be in the high nineties.

“I can’t go to California today.” He watched the pool fill and lifted the towel from his neck, drying off his head, still wet from the shower.

“Yes, you can, and you will. I spoke to your director, and he’s shifting the shooting schedule, said it will be no big deal.”

“You spoke to my director.” Cole mused, spraying a burst of water in Cocky’s direction, when DeLuca had time to sleep.

“I wasn’t going to waste your time by calling you for something that couldn’t be done. I verified that it can be done, and now you’re going. Justin has already set up a flight for you at eleven.”

Eleven. Cole breathed a little easier. Plenty of time to shoot twenty-two and then hit the airport. Worst-case scenario, if Don wasn’t happy, they could reshoot it later in the week. “Why do you need me there?”

“You’ve been summoned. It’s an initial play at mediation. Nadia’s team is trying to look good; though, I can tell you from the tone of our communication, they are anything but cooperating.”

“So it’s a waste of time.”

“Not at all. I spoke to them this morning and gave them an ultimatum. Told them tomorrow is their last chance to stay out of court. They gave us three options on dates for the mediation, and this is our best shot. If we could knock out The Fortune Bottle issue now, especially since you’re clean as a fucking whistle, then the rest is easy. You could be fully divorced by Christmas.”

Clean as a whistle. He didn’t feel clean. With everything happening with Summer, he felt dirty as fuck. He said nothing and opened the back door, Cocky perking up his head. Divorced by Christmas. That would be good. And Nadia would definitely want to avoid court. Maybe this mediation could be it, one giant stress removed from his life.

“How are you handling things?”

Cole looked at Cocky and contemplated bringing him to the set. He’d have to ask Summer to watch him while he was gone. There wasn’t really anyone else.

“Cole?” DeLuca prodded. “I don’t want you drinking your feelings away. Nadia’s not worth it. You’ll know that one day.”

“I’m fine,” Cole snapped, leaving Cocky in place and pulling the back door shut and heading for the front, grabbing his keys off the counter.

“Don’t give me that. You want to play tough on the set, fine, but be upfront with me. I have a shrink that is brilliant. Why don’t you talk to him? Just vent, or break down, or do whatever it is that you Californians do when you have a broken heart.”

Cole laughed, his hand on the front door, the cordless phone pinning him to the house when he really wanted to get to the Pit. “Brad. I’m fine. I swear to you on God’s green Earth that I am not pining over Nadia.”

“So you’re over Nadia.” Brad’s voice was skeptical, and it ate up valuable time. Cole glanced at the rooster clock by the door and tried to calculate how many takes they’d have time to fit in.

“Yep,” he said shortly.

“I thought I told you to stay away from pussy.”

Cole’s attention returned to the call. “What?”

“You can’t get into a relationship right now. Absolutely not. We’re walking into our first round of mediation, and we need you to look wounded and struggling. If you’re in a new relationship it’s going to paint Nadia’s affair in a different light.” The man’s words rolled out focused and deadly.

“I’m not in a relationship.” It was true. Summer and whatever their thing was wasn’t a relationship. It was an obsession at a convenient time. If it helped him to get over Nadia, even better. It, like his obsession over racehorses and The Fortune Bottle, would fade. Probably before this movie even wrapped.

“I swear to you, Cole, if the media catches wind of this, you will be crucified. Right now, you have all of America in your corner. You are Jennifer Fucking Aniston and she is Angelina Jolie covered in shit. Don’t join her in the shit, Cole. Not until we have your movie in front of a judge, and I have it in your name, wrapped up in enough legal tape to make sure that Nadia never touches it. Then, if you want to take this girl to the premiere and roll her around in the millions this will bring you, go for it. But not before then. You know better than anyone how these bloodhounds will sniff out stories, Cole. Don’t hand them one on a silver platter.”

“I’m not in a relationship, I’m not seeing anyone, and I’m not fucking anyone.” He bit out the last line in easy concert with the truths and rested his forehead on the door, willing the man on the other end to buy his words. It wasn’t really a lie. He wasn’t fucking Summer, he had fucked her. Past tense. Wasn’t going to happen again. Probably. “If you want me on a plane by eleven, I have to go.”

DeLuca sighed into the receiver. “Fine. I’ll see you in LA. Justin’s arranging a driver for you at the airport.”

“Okay.” Cole ended the call and straightened, tossing the phone onto the couch and pulling open the door, the sky full of morning light, a sparrow flying off the porch railing at first sight of him. Cole jogged toward the truck, squinting in the direction of Summer’s house and was pleased to see her truck wasn’t out front.

He climbed into the cab, starting the big diesel and heading toward town. It would be a busy morning. SCENE #22. The first kiss between Royce and Ida.

He’d knock that out, then he’d fly to Los Angeles, and rejoin the demons.