No Stopping Now

“A smoothie,” she said, annoyed at how close he was. “Aren’t you going to guess the flavor?”

He moved in, startling her, and sniffed. “Too long ago. I’m just getting you.” She felt a zing of unwanted electricity. “You smell great, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He seemed so aware, so there. She picked up his smell, too—warm skin, a trace of last night’s cologne. His grin was lazy and knowing, and she found she was holding her breath.

“How about if I order a few things? Maybe you’ll nibble, like the other night.”

“Whatever you want,” she said, deciding to be as cooperative as she could.

“And to drink? I’m having coffee, but I bet you’re more of a hot-tea girl. Say, chai spice?”

Her favorite, dammit. “No one likes to feel predictable.”

“How about noticed? Don’t you like to be noticed?”

“Who wouldn’t?” That was his secret, of course. Or one of them. All that attention was tough to resist in a world where it was all about me, me, me. Especially with men. A man who paid attention, really listened and remembered…was golden.

Brody moved to the phone and placed a lengthy order, turning to smile at her as if she were his room service conspirator.

It was unnerving to stand this close to a nearly naked Brody, looking at him over his bed, while he guessed her pleasures, his voice lazy with sex—er, sleep. Jeez. “Don’t you want to put some clothes on?” she said, sounding more exasperated than she’d intended.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” This seemed to delight him.

“Of course not. Get naked if you want. I’m ready to work.”

“Mm-mm-mm. With lines like that, you’re going to be a hell of a lot more fun than Kirk, that’s for sure.”

“He’s not your type?” She was pleased to tease back, to reverse his impression of her as too serious.

He shook his head in mock sorrow. “Too much body hair.”

“That makes sense. However, I doubt I’m your type, either.” She was trying to joke, but it came out sounding defensive.

“What does that mean?” Brody moved to stand toe-to-toe with her. She didn’t back up, despite how big and male he seemed, his bare chest gleaming in the shard of sunlight that sliced between the blackout curtains.

He was studying her. “You’re not fishing for a compliment. That’s not you. Ah…I get it. You were insulting my type, right? Which is, what, brainless sluts?”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” The reaction was deep and knee-jerk, from her past, but she could hardly get into that.

“Brainless sluts need love, too, you know.”

“I’m sure they do. That wasn’t what I was saying or what I meant. It’s just me. Just old stuff popping out, God knows why.”

“What old stuff?”

He acted honestly curious and he’d no doubt drag it out of her anyway, so she just told him. “I was overweight—a fat girl all through college, actually. So guys were my friends, not my boyfriends, okay? I wasn’t any guy’s type.”

“You’re thin now,” he said simply.

“That happened by accident. I was working days at a news station in Fresno and making films at night—too busy to eat and jogging to boost my energy and all of a sudden, guys started looking at me instead of through me.”

“You sure that was it?”

“Oh, yeah. I was the same lively, interesting person I’d always been, but no guy noticed until I got skinny.”

“That must have pissed you off.”

“Royally. I got over it, though.”

“Not entirely, right? Hence, the comment?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“The past colors the present, JJ.”

“Ah, so this is why they call you doctor,” she said, deflecting his analysis with a joke. “You’re analyzing me.”

“I charge $150 an hour and accept most insurance.”

“Please. What kind of therapist practices in his underwear?”

He laughed. “My more traditional clients sometimes insist I wear pants.” He sighed.

“I see,” she said.

He smiled, moving close to her. “If it makes you feel better, JJ, I don’t sleep with my crew. Even moral reprobates have some standards.”

“Good to know,” she said, startled by his frankness.

“So now can you drop your shoulders? They’re up around your ears.” He squeezed her muscles there with such perfect pressure that tension peeled away like the skin of an apple under the sharpest of knives.

“Oooh,” she said.

“Turn around,” he whispered.

She did and he began to rub in earnest.

“Wow. Oh, wow,” she said. “That feels great.” Not suggestive at all. It was pure physical relief. She let it go on entirely too long, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a massage and it was just soooo nice.

“That working for you?”

“Oh, yeah.” She tried to collect her thoughts, say something funny or sensible. “You give shoulder rubs to all your crew?”

“Only the cute ones.”

“Kirk? Never mind. Too hairy, right?”

“You’re catching on.” He patted her shoulders, signifying he was finished. “Now what was I doing? Oh, yeah, putting on my pants.” He went to the side of the bed, whistling softly.

There was a knock at the door. Figuring it was room service, Jillian answered, but instead she found a short woman holding a stack of multicolored file folders in the hall. Eve Gallen, Brody’s producer, no doubt.

Her eyes widened when she saw Jillian, but when she looked past her to where Brody was pulling up his pants, they narrowed, along with her lips, and her face took on an ah-ha expression. She thought that Jillian and Brody had been…oh, damn.

Jillian reached out a hand. “I’m JJ. Filling in for Kirk on this shoot?” She hoped her tone cleared up the false impression.

“I know who you are,” Eve said, with a businesslike handshake and a brief smile.

“I got here early. I thought noon meant noon.”

“Then you don’t know Brody.”

“She’s learning,” Brody said. “I answered the door in my shorts and shocked the shit out of her.” He was clearly trying to show that nothing sexual was going on.

Eve paused, seemed to accept that, then strode to the window to fling open the curtains. “You live like a vampire, Brody,” she said, dusting off her hands. She had bird-bright eyes and a restless energy, and she took over the room, putting a third chair at the table, shifting Brody’s laptop to one side, taking legal pads and stapled pages from her messenger bag and laying items at each place.

Jillian raised her gaze to Brody, who shrugged. “Eve’s the boss. I’m just the hired help.”

When the food arrived, Eve signed the check, too, then lifted off the cover plates and stacked them. She looked over the omelets, sausage, granola, yogurt and pastry Brody had ordered, then grabbed a bear claw and bit into it. She made a face. “This isn’t blackberry, Brode.”

“They were out. It’s fig. Sorry.” Brody poured orange juice into a glass of cranberry juice and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said.

Jillian was impressed. Brody had ordered his producer’s favorite foods, including a juice combo he’d prepared for her.

Eve sipped the juice, nibbled on the pastry, then nodded slowly. “Goes good with the juice.” She scooped ice from the water glass into Brody’s coffee, taking care of him, too.

“The tea yours?” she asked Jillian, sounding almost offended by the presence of an alien beverage at the table.

“Yes,” she said, preparing her cup.

“Brody guess what you liked to drink and eat?” Eve asked.

“He did, as a matter of fact.”

“That’s the Brody Treatment. You’ll get used to it.” Her words felt like a subtle jab. He does this for everyone. You’re not special.

Brody circled the food cart, moving with an athlete’s grace in bare feet, loading his plate with an omelet and sausage and fruit. He looked like a Calvin Klein ad, his chest still bare, his jeans low on his hips, his boxers peeking out.

A sigh escaped Jillian.

“You okay?” Eve shot her a look.

“Fine.” Stop staring at the man. Her cup rattled in its saucer as she took her place at the table with Eve.

“Top sheet is the itinerary,” Eve said, then flipped to the next page. “The second is a shot list for tonight and tomorrow.”

“Looks good,” Jillian said. Eve was clearly organized. Her folders were color-coded by city, Jillian noticed, reading the tabs. They would be on the road for nearly a week—spending two days in L.A., two in San Francisco and two in San Diego, before returning to L.A. for postproduction work.

Jillian wouldn’t be needed for that.

Brody joined them, but he didn’t look at Eve’s pages, just dug into his food.

“I don’t know how familiar you are with Doctor Nite, JJ,” Eve said, “but men watch our show for the hottest clubs, the sexiest events and the wildest women. When you’re looking for shots, you’re going to have to think like a man. Maximum skin is what we’re after. Short skirts, serious cleavage, all the tongue kissing you can score. Think Mardi Gras. Think spring break.”

Think vulgar, woman-hating, exploitive. “I get it,” she said, Eve’s condescension annoying her. “I’ve watched the show.”

“Studied it, you mean,” Brody said, shooting her a wink.

“Then let’s dig in,” Eve said. “First I wanted to show you some new stuff I’ve got going, Brody.” She whipped a paper from a red folder and gave it to him.

He read down the list. “You’ve been a busy girl.”

“I’ve barely begun. Most of this can wait for Kirk, though.” She shot Jillian a patronizing look.

“You don’t need to do extra stuff. We’re fine.” There seemed to be tension between them. Had Eve disappointed him?

“We can’t dial it in, Brody.” She glanced at Jillian, almost as if she wished she were gone, then back at Brody. “Your fans count on you. We can’t take anything for granted. It’s good to shake things up.” The two watched each other for a moment.

Jillian shifted and her leg jarred the table, making Eve sit straight, then tap her folders straight. “So! Moving on. Today’s shoot.” She flipped to the second stapled page.

Jillian was watching her, wondering what was really up.

With an impatient huff, Eve flipped Jillian’s papers to the correct page. “You’ll get used to how we work,” she said, her tone suggesting Jillian was already hopelessly behind.

“School of Bondage?” Jillian read from the page.

“We’re filming the dominatrix class,” Eve said, as if it were an everyday thing to do. “Then we’ll hang in the bar where the students and teachers mingle and practice.”

“I’ve planned out the Top Ten S&M Tips,” Brody said.

“Good. We need to save time if we want to get footage at the condom factory before they stop the machines for the day.”

“Will I be able to scout these places?” Jillian asked.

Eve’s gaze shot to her. “Traffic’s brutal and we have lots to discuss. Kirk always wings it.”

“I’m sure JJ can wing it, too,” Brody said. “Speaking of Kirk, have you talked to him today?”

Eve’s face softened. “He’s great. They’re releasing him this afternoon.”

“He was higher than a kite when I called last night.”

“He’s already doing physical therapy.” She smiled. “I’m so glad that’s over. Kirk was so flipped out.” She paused, lost in thought for a second. “Oh, yeah, he wanted me to remind you about some DVD. The guy’s supposed to call you tonight?”

“Sure. Yeah. I’ll drop it off for him.”

“Anyway, okay, so let’s see…. Back to San Francisco.”

“Did that tip from JJ work out with the tourism office?” Brody asked, shooting Jillian a wink.

“Yes, actually, it did.” She lifted her gaze to Jillian and said a quick, begrudging, “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m happy to help.” Even if I’m not Kirk.

Eve hunkered over her notes. “Turns out we have to revise the San Francisco segments, since the show will run on Valentine’s Day. We’ll use ‘Raunchy Romance’ as the theme. All we have to do is add some V-Day bits. I hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Why is that?” Jillian asked.

“It’s death for single guys,” Eve said. “Girls get all gooey and want promises, and guys get stuck with the bill.”

“It’s a racket,” Brody added. “Guys forking over a fortune for a fat diamond floating in Cristal, flaming dishes in restaurants where even the busboys are snots, and for what? If that’s what love is, save your money.”

“Good stuff, Brody,” Eve said. “Use all that. Also, how is a single guy supposed to get laid on Valentine’s Day? Do a riff on that. You know, how all the available chicks are home moping, eating Chunky Monkey from the carton, watching sappy movies in their sweats, wishing they had a boyfriend.”

Jillian needed to contribute something to the brainstorming. “Why not hang out at the video store where the women are renting their sappy movies?”

Brody and Eve stared at her, blinking.

“Say, fiveish, after work,” she continued. “Stand in the romantic comedy aisle, holding When Harry Met Sally or Sleepless in Seattle.”

“Too gay,” Brody said. “Maybe American Pie II or There’s Something About Mary.”

“I guess the movies don’t matter, as long as you look harmless and lonely. Oh, and buy snacks. Popcorn and M&M’s?”

“The doctor is in,” Brody said. “Good one, JJ. So, Eve, score us a video store we can haunt? We can get opinions on our theories, too, while we’re there.”

“Video stores are chains. I’ll have to deal with corporate permissions. It’ll take time.”

“You’re the queen of pulling rabbits from hats.”

Eve sighed, but a smile teased her lips. She grabbed Brody’s laptop and began clicking away.

Brody leaned close to Jillian. “You are good,” he said.

She was glad she’d impressed him. Now she had to get through to Eve. While they worked, Jillian complimented the woman’s planning, her filing system, hell, her acrylic nails, but the producer remained distant with her.

Two hours later, Eve looked at her watch. “The crew will be here soon, Brody, so let’s wrap up.”

“Time for Red Stripe and beer nuts,” he declared, picking up the phone to call room service.

“I’d like a club soda, please,” Jillian said.

“Do you believe this woman, Eve? Club soda?”

“Brody hates health nuts,” Eve said matter-of-factly.

“Sorry. But would you also add a fruit and veggie tray?”

“If I have to,” Brody said, grinning. “As long as you keep it away from the good food.”

The rest of the crew arrived and went over technical details about the upcoming shoot, while drinking beer and wolfing nuts. Jillian liked that the show worked with a bare-bones staff in an informal atmosphere. Brody asked about kids and pets and planned vacations, and she could see the crew loved him. She liked Brian and Bob, the light and sound guys she’d work most closely with, and felt good about their skills.

The crew left, Eve ran down one last checklist with Brody, then declared them set. It was nearly 4 p.m.

“The vans will be out front in exactly two hours, so don’t be late,” Eve said to Jillian, messenger bag over her arm.

“I won’t,” she said, fighting the urge to defend herself. I’m a professional and as prompt as sunrise. Instead, she gathered up her papers and purse.

Lounging on the couch, Brody took a long swallow of beer, his throat muscles sliding, forearm muscles twining, legs stretched out. He was still half-naked and all male. Even his toes looked sexy.

Jillian could hardly take her eyes off him.

“What are you up to now?” Brody asked her.

“I’m going to check my equipment, think through the shots, plan things out a bit.”

“Don’t get too locked down,” Eve said. “Brody always shakes things up. Kirk goes with the flow. That’s the best way.”

“I understand,” she said. “I’m sure it will be fine.” Grr.

“You should take a nap,” Eve said to Brody with an affectionate smile. “We’ll be out late. After the taping, I thought we’d check out that new bar near the W.”

“I’m making it an early night, Eve.”

“On our launch? We always party.”

“Not this time. Not me.”

“But I already rounded up the crowd.”

“You’ll have fun.”

“It’s not the same without you.”

“Take my credit card and it will be.”

Eve stared at him. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’m fine. Just taking it easy for a change. Thanks, ladies. Here’s to a great tour.” He tilted his beer at them.

“Looking forward to it,” Jillian said, but she noticed Eve was watching Brody and chewing her nail.

The two women moved outside Brody’s room.

“So, you and Brody seem to be close,” she said, thinking that if she could get Eve talk to her about Brody she might learn some interesting tidbits. She wondered if they’d ever been an item, back before he made that rule about crew.

“We’ve worked together a long time, sure.” Eve paused, then looked at Jillian dead-on. “Brody’s a friendly guy, open and easy to talk to, but he’s really a very private person.” Don’t even think you’ll get close.

Jillian had to try. Maybe he was happy to be a playboy forever. Or maybe that weary look she’d seen meant something. Maybe that was what had Eve worried, too.

Jillian had a week to find out.

4

IT WASN’T BONDAGE SCHOOL that surprised Brody—he’d expected the place to be decorated like a torture chamber, with displays of menacing devices and all the students in leather and latex and spikes—it was Jillian’s reaction to the place that amazed him.

She was relaxed, as calm and easy as if she were filming a field of wheat, a sunny meadow or a small-town park. She focused on the best angle to view a whipping, the right lighting for black leather, how to capture shiny spikes without glare.

He almost laughed when she shifted furniture and climbed a ladder to get the perfect shot of a paddling. Kirk would never have gone to that much trouble.

She put up with a bunch of Brody’s reshoots without complaint, too, just as she’d promised. When Brody blew off the shot list, instead of going along like Kirk would have done, she’d do the new stuff, then go back to what they’d planned and do that, too. She missed nothing.

He was behaving differently, too. Showing off, for one thing. When the head dominatrix, Mistress Mona, tried out the cat-o’-nine-tails on him, it stung like a bitch, but he’d refused to wince.

Now they were in the bar, which was raking in cash with overpriced liquor. The whole school was a moneymaker with brutal tuition fees and criminally expensive paraphernalia. A hundred bucks for a rubber hood? Come on. All part of the punishment, he guessed.

In the bar, the students and teachers mingled, leather and rubber clothes squeaking, chains clanking. It was like some weird costume party with everyone in black and metal.

Whatever stuffed your jeans, he guessed. Not his thing.

They had tons of footage, but he still had that restless, unfinished feeling, so he motioned JJ over, hoping for some ideas. Between shots, he’d noticed how busy she was, scoping the place, talking to the instructors, the patrons, the bartender.

“I need something more from the Queen of Pain,” he told her, nodding toward Mistress Mona, holding court at the bar. “Any ideas?”

She didn’t miss a beat, just leaned close to talk low in his ear, giving him a delicious blast of her spicy scent. “See the guy in the Girls Gone Wild ball cap at the back table?”

He looked, spotting the guy with his frat-boy buds. They’d stumbled into the place, not knowing what it was, then stuck around to gawk and joke.

“He’s laughing like his friends, but his eyes never leave Mona. I think we should bring her to his table.”

“You don’t miss much, do you?” he asked her.

“I try not to. No.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” he said, thinking about the interviews he’d promised her and all he had to hide.

“I’ll go talk up the college boys,” she said. “You tell Mona.”

He headed for the bar and sat beside the dominatrix. “A minute more of your time, Mistress Mona?”

“Yes?” she purred, pursing bright red lips. Her hair was teased platinum and her eyes were heavy with black gunk—pure drama, but he’d seen she had humor about herself, unlike the students who were hyper about the rules of their sexual roles.

“I think we know someone who could use a touch of your lash,” he said.

“Tell me more,” she said in the German accent that ebbed and flowed. While he explained the plan, he glanced over to see how much more time JJ needed. He was surprised to find her waiting for him, ready, and she’d gotten the frat boys primed, too.

She was fast, moving like smoke, subtle and smooth, never drawing attention to herself, almost invisible, efficient and effortless and always there. She’d even gotten Brian and Bob to pick up the pace. The lights and boom mic were ready, too.

She’d told him she often did her own lights and sound on documentaries because it lessened the intimidation factor. The fewer people and equipment, the more relaxed her subjects were.

He and Mistress Mona moved toward the frat-boy table and JJ signaled she was rolling tape.

Mona loomed over the boys, silencing them, and the kid in question blinked up at her. “I’m not really into all this,” he said, looking utterly enthralled. JJ had been right about him.

“Come on,” Brody coaxed. “We all need the occasional smack on the behind, don’t we, Mistress Mona?”

“You vill gif your mistress respect,” Mistress Mona snapped. “Take off zat ridiculous cap.”

The kid jerked the hat from his head, grinning, his face pink. Oh, he was into this, all right.

“Wipe zat smile off your face.” Mona whipped her crop onto the table so that it slapped his fingers.

The kid stared at his hand, then at Mona, utterly thrilled.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Brody patted him on the back and stood. “Enjoy. The cat-o’-nine-tails is intense.”

JJ backed up, keeping the camera on Brody as he left the table. She was waiting for his wrap-up. He liked that she’d picked up on their system.

“Whatever polishes your jewels, guys,” he said into the lens, walking slowly enough that JJ and Bob could keep their equipment steady. “You like rubber hoods or get off on wearing pink panties under your Dockers? As long as no one gets hurt—well, sent to the hospital—go for it.”

He needed something else…a final comment.

JJ pointed him toward a student practicing her riding crop moves on a guy’s backside.

“My turn?” Brody said to the girl, then turned and bent over. She smacked him lightly.

“Oooh, the Doctor is in,” he said with a wink, holding his pose until JJ took the camera away from her eye.

“You got what you needed?” he asked her.

“I did. Yes.” Her voice was low and throaty. There was that spark again, flying between them, unexpectedly strong. She felt it, too, he could tell, but backed away fast. He couldn’t figure out if she was scared of it or irritated by the distraction. Interesting…

“We’ve got to move,” Eve said, bustling up, her messenger bag tugging her shoulder down. It amazed him how much junk she hauled around—energy drinks, files, notebooks, forms, batteries, cosmetics, even a flashlight and, for some reason, latex gloves. “They’re waiting for us at the condom factory.”

“I’d like to look over the footage before we go,” JJ said.

“You’ll have to check it in the van,” Eve said. “We don’t have time for a reshoot anyway.”

Why was Eve so bristly with JJ? She was always a steamroller, but she was particularly pushy with JJ. Had Eve picked up on the attraction? Maybe she missed Kirk. The two of them bickered like an old married couple and they talked daily.

At the van, JJ let him help her into the seat, then set up the computer and external drive for a playback, quick and efficient, resting the laptop on both their knees. He liked the slide of her thigh against his own.

Eve sat up front where she could more comfortably boss the driver. Eve made him grin. She had the tenacity of a terrier, a great eye for detail and was utterly competent. Sometimes over the top, but that was part of the package.