скачать книгу бесплатно
She could tell the guy—she still couldn’t remember his name—recognized Finn, which wasn’t surprising since Finn garnered almost as much press as the stars in the films he produced. And, of course, everyone on the planet knew about her past with Finn. The double whammy for her admirer, though, had to come from Finn’s family ties: smart people didn’t make enemies of the Marshalls. Especially if they wanted any kind of future in politics. They were simply too powerful a family to mess with.
But this guy, proving again he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, got belligerent instead. “This is a private conversation, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I mind.” Disdain dripped off Finn’s words.
The men sized each other up, and Caitlyn couldn’t help but do the same. She hadn’t exactly forgotten Finn—how could she?—but reality was slapping her in the face now. Finn could give his leading men a run for their money when it came to heartthrob status. He had strong, aristocratic features made less harsh by a deep tan earned from his love of all things outdoors. His dark blond hair had sun-bleached lighter streaks, and, as always, it had that casual windblown look that all men who weren’t Finn had to work hard to achieve. The dim light made it hard to see the color of his eyes, but she knew how their deep green could suck a girl in and melt her insides.
Finn had a good four inches in height on her admirer and, while both men were lean, he looked athletic and strong even in his suit. He might have the bluest of blue blood in his veins, but he had an edge that belied the DNA—not enough to make him look out of place in the throng of political and social elite inside, but it certainly set him apart.
It made the red-faced young man look ridiculous even trying to match up. He just fell short all the way around.
And his scowl was nothing compared to Finn’s.
Which brought her nicely back to the real problem at hand. Finn had an odd gallant streak when it came to damsels in distress. At the right time it could be endearing—sweet, even—but this was not the right time for Finn to channel his inner caveman.
“I distinctly heard Cait tell you she was done talking. Do you really need to resort to assault?”
What’s-his-name bristled visibly. Lord, the man was too stupid to realize the danger lurking behind Finn’s controlled cadence. She knew better, though, and launched into damage control before this got worse. “That was just a—”
“I know what that was, Cait,” Finn snapped. He took her arm and moved her a few feet farther away, putting himself between her and the man like a bodyguard. He looked her up and down, then asked quietly, “Are you okay?”
“She’s fine,” the other man answered testily. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”
Finn’s green eyes flicked in his direction. He obviously wasn’t impressed with the man. “I didn’t ask you.”
He puffed up like a blowfish and Finn squared his shoulders. With all the testosterone in the air, this was about to get ugly.
Caitlyn cleared her throat. “I’m fine, Finn, thanks. And I would like us to all go our separate ways now so that this just remains between the three of us. There’s a lot of press and a lot of people inside who don’t need to be party to this.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed as he looked her over. “Are you sure?”
She nodded and saw Finn un-bow his shoulders a little bit as he released her arm. “Fine. No sense embarrassing you unnecessarily.”
Thank goodness. “I’d appreciate that.”
He turned to the other man, who seemed to get younger and weaker-looking as each second ticked by. “Go.”
He shot them both a dirty look, then stalked away. She heard the noise of the crowd inside as the door opened, and then silence, blissful silence, broken only by the sound of the traffic on DuPont Circle, settled over the balcony again.
Caitlyn moved to sit on the bench against the balustrade and sighed as she pushed her hair back from her face. She needed a minute to get herself back together. First that guy, then Finn … It was all a little too much to process in such a short time.
“What the hell were you thinking, Cait?”
The heat in his voice hit her like a slap across the face. “Excuse me?”
Finn stood in front of her and crossed his arms over his chest. She could see the muscle in his jaw twitching. “What were you doing out here alone? Where’s the damn security?”
How dare he jump on her over this? She gritted her teeth to hold her temper in check. “They’re probably inside with everyone else—which is kind of the point, because I wanted a moment alone.”
“Have you lost your mind? You don’t get to decide to be ‘alone’ in a place like this.”
“A place like this? It’s a cocktail party, Finn, not a drug den. A ‘place like this’ should be the one place I can grab a minute to myself without worry.”
Finn didn’t seem to hear her. He was too busy glaring. “Then when some guy assaults you you try to arm wrestle him yourself instead of calling for help?”
“Like anyone would have heard me inside even if I did.” Finn’s eyes narrowed and the thin thread holding her temper snapped. Anger surged through her. “I didn’t want to make a scene. And you’ll please note I had the situation under control just fine before you even made your entrance.” She lifted her chin. “If you want to play the hero, you might want to work on your timing.”
He frowned. “You should know better.”
“Why do you care?”
Finn’s eyebrows went up, but before he could answer a door opened and three people came out to the balcony. They passed without speaking, but Caitlyn felt her face flush, anyway. She did not need to be seen in a shouting match with Finn. The list of things she didn’t need was growing longer each day. Maybe signing on to this project wasn’t the best idea, after all.
No. Folly is perfect. It’s a gift, so don’t screw it up. And, since Finn was running this project, she’d have to swallow her anger and pride and act like a professional.
Caitlyn forced herself to smile. “However, I appreciate your concern and will keep your warnings in mind for the future.”
There. That was the proper thing to say to set the right tone for their future working relationship. She was pleased she’d made the effort. The look on Finn’s face was just a bonus.
She thought he might be about to say something more, but Finn just shrugged, a signature movement showing that this was no longer worth his time. “So, who was that guy, anyway?”
She looked around. While more people had drifted onto the terrace, no one seemed to be paying them undue attention. She had to quit worrying so much about that. There was nothing attention-worthy about her and Finn speaking together. They had to: they were coworkers, colleagues working on Folly. There was nothing remotely scandalous about the two of them talking.
At a respectable distance from each other, of course.
“I don’t know his name. All I really know is that he’s a fan of the whole Reese clan and that he works for someone in Congress.” The eyebrow that went up told her that Finn would be able to provide a name shortly, and she almost felt a touch of sympathy for the young man. “We spoke briefly inside. Obviously that wasn’t enough for him.”
“Obviously.”
“I think he’s had a couple of drinks, and we all do stupid things after we’ve had a couple of drinks, you know.” Finn seemed to agree to that with a minuscule tilt of his head, and she blew out her breath in a long sigh.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Finn, really. It was a surprise, but that’s all. I appreciate your rescue, but I doubt he would have pressed it much further. I probably just overreacted. Either way, I think I managed to convince him that I’m serious.”
Finn chuckled and the sound rolled over her like a remembered caress. “If not, he’s amazingly dense. Nice moves, by the way.”
“Thanks. After that thing with Mom’s stalker two years ago, she and Dad made me take some self-defense classes and work with a trainer. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to put it to the test, though. Things were different in London. Fewer people knew who I was, so the weirdo potential was way down. It was a wake-up call I probably needed.”
“Hell of a way to be welcomed home.”
She swallowed as Finn came to sit next to her. There was still a respectable distance separating them, but that didn’t stop her heart-rate from jumping up a notch. Speaking of being welcomed home … She’d thought about this moment a thousand times, planned a million witty and clever things to say that would put their past behind them, show she’d moved on and had her career firmly back on track. All those clever words eluded her now, damn it. But she had to say something or else look like an idiot.
She looked around, appreciating the dim quiet of the terrace and the view of D.C. beyond. A full moon topped the Washington Monument like a candle flame. “Beautiful view.” Well, that wasn’t exactly inspired.
Based on the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, Finn agreed with that assessment. “Indeed.”
“This is my first time in D.C., believe it or not. I’m hoping to have some time to do a little sightseeing.”
“If you want tours of the Capitol or the White House let Liz know. She can call my father’s office and get it arranged for you.”
She swallowed her shock. Finn rarely acknowledged his paternity, so the casual mention of Senator Marshall came straight from left field. Or maybe Finn and his father were on better terms now. Things could have changed. “I appreciate that.”
This all seemed so normal. Two people sitting on a terrace, chatting. But it wasn’t normal. This was Finn, and the proverbial gorilla sat between them, so the situation made her jumpy instead. Finn, though, seemed to be willing to ignore the past—or at least pretend that they were friendly strangers—so she was enough of an adult to do the same. If he wasn’t going to bring it up, she should just thank her lucky stars and do the same.
“I didn’t expect you to be here tonight.” That was only partly true. She’d known there was a chance he’d be here; Dolfinn Pictures supported the summer camp program, after all. Because of that, the cast of Folly had come in an attempt to bring more attention to the fundraiser. But Finn normally avoided D.C. like the plague, and he’d been in Monaco for the last three weeks. Donor or not, the chances of him showing up had been slim. This kind of event wasn’t Finn’s idea of a good time. His scene was still more club than cocktail.
“Well, I have to put in an occasional appearance at things to keep the Grands happy.”
Finn’s grandmother sat on the board, and both she and her husband, the legendary Senator Marshall, were here tonight. Porter Marshall had held the office for decades before retiring and handing it over to his son, Finn’s father.
The former senator was far more personable than Caitlyn had expected, and when she’d learned this evening that The Folly of the Fury was his favorite book, they’d had a lovely conversation about the importance of the book and character of Rebecca. Mrs. Marshall, though … That had been a slightly uncomfortable moment: although they’d never met at the time, Regina Marshall obviously recognized Caitlyn’s name from before. While she hadn’t been anything other than polite, Caitlyn had the sneaking feeling she was on probation with the regal matriarch of this powerful family.
Which was fine, because Caitlyn had no intention of screwing this up.
She had way too much on the line.
CHAPTER TWO
CAIT was acting strangely, which didn’t make sense—or bode well for future work on Folly.
He’d sought her out tonight intentionally, wanting to get a clear-eyed assessment of who she was these days and whether or not she was going to make filming a personal hell for him. Dolby was the one who’d pointed him toward the terrace. The scene he’d walked in on, though …
He’d recognized the situation immediately for what it was, but hadn’t known it was Cait until she’d had the man on his knees crying for mercy. He’d recognized her voice before the man even said her name—he’d had that irritated, clipped tone directed at him too many times to forget it. Then the details had hit him all at once: that coppery-blond hair that had kept hairdressers in business recreating the color on an entire generation of women, those long legs showcased by her signature stilettos, even the newly acquired curve of her hips that showed she wasn’t starving herself anymore to fit the starlet mold.
The shock of seeing her had delayed his reaction time, and it had been over before he’d recovered. That was bad enough, but his physical reaction at seeing Cait again didn’t sit well on top of everything else, and he’d let his anger loose on her. It was only his pride that had had him pulling it together to carry on a normal conversation.
Because he was not going to let Cait wreak her special blend of havoc on his life again. He’d learned his lesson there. He would keep this casual and professional if it killed him. He could be the bigger person.
“Are you ready to go back in?”
Cait seemed to be thinking very hard about a seemingly simple question. Finally, she shook her head. “Not just yet. I think I need another minute to cool down some and get myself together.”
“It might have been fun to watch you break his fingers, though.”
She seemed to consider that. “No. There are too many witnesses in there, too many cameras.” She shrugged casually, but there was a wry smile of resignation on her face. “I don’t need that kind of publicity this soon. Plus, it’s tacky to start a fistfight at a cocktail party. Believe it or not, I was raised better than that.”
At least her humor seemed to be returning. It was a longstanding joke between them: was the child of Hollywood royalty expected to behave better or worse than a child from political royalty? Using only the tabloids as their judge and jury, they’d never been able to come to a definitive answer as to how high or low the expectations really were.
And they’d certainly tested those expectations. Repeatedly.
He couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “I could hit him for you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s kind of you—and tempting—but I’m going to think positive thoughts that he’s learned his lesson. The funny thing is that I think that might have been more about my folks than me. He seemed pretty interested in their political leanings and pet causes.”
He understood now. Cait’s connections—and all that Hollywood money—could be very valuable to an aspiring politician, and that guy had “congressional wannabe” written all over him. “Welcome back to the business.”
She shot him a pissy look. “I never totally left, you know. Just because I haven’t been working in Hollywood, it doesn’t mean I haven’t been working.”
“On the stage. It’s hardly the same thing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t start. I’m not going to get into that argument with you.” She seemed to catch herself and her face cleared, and a wickedly innocent smile took the place of irritation. “But I’m rather flattered to hear that you’ve been keeping up with my career. That’s rather sweet. I had no idea you cared.”
Her tone rankled. There was no way he was going to let her go there. “Just because I wasn’t consulted before you were brought on board, don’t think for a second that I haven’t verified you can actually pull this off. This film is my responsibility, and Rebecca falls outside your known range.”
Cait’s jaw tightened. Oh, he’d hit a nerve with that one.
She recovered quickly, though. She always did. She stood and stepped away from the bench before turning on him. “You know, if you spent more time actually working, and less time playing beach blanket bingo in Europe, you might not have to find out what’s happening with your own projects after the fact.”
The disdain in her voice chased off any desire he’d had to play nice. Where did Cait get off acting all high and mighty? “So you’ve been keeping up with my love life? That’s kind of … sad, actually.”
“Oh, please. Would you get over yourself? The last thing I care about is who you’re sleeping with now. I’m here for one reason and one reason only. I want my career back.”
He started to answer, but stopped short as a thought crystallized. Cait had been out of the spotlight for years; she wasn’t exactly a hot commodity at the moment—famous parents or not. Folly was a great place to prove her skills, but it wouldn’t do much to restore her to the fame and glory she’d once called her “birthright.” Hadn’t he and Dolby just discussed the headline possibilities today? A bad feeling crept over him. Maybe that was part of her plan. What better way to make the cover of every magazine and have her name on everyone’s lips than to work that very Finn-and-Caitlyn angle he’d just laid plans to avoid.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. It seems like a hell of a good way to make your comeback with a bang, doesn’t it?”
He hadn’t thought it would be possible for Cait to get any stiffer, but she did. With her arms crossed over her chest, she lifted her chin again until she was practically looking down her nose at him—something she could only do while he was seated.
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Being within fifty feet of me assures you every headline you want, doesn’t it?” With a casualness he didn’t really feel, but would grate on Cait’s nerves regardless, he leaned back against the railing and stacked his hands behind his head. “Once upon a time, you claimed I was good for your Q Score. Looking for a second bite of the apple, Caity?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Your ego is simply unbelievable, Finn. Believe it or not, this is not about you. In fact, the very last thing I need—or want—is the kind of headlines you bring. I’ve grown up, worked damn hard to improve my craft and cleaned up my image. I take my job seriously.” She eyed him with something he could only call distaste. “Since you can’t say the same, why don’t you just go back to Monaco until this is in the can? That would be very helpful for my comeback.”
Oh, he’d definitely hit a nerve. Anger flushed her cheeks, and she gripped her tiny purse until her knuckles turned white.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an early call in the morning and should probably get some sleep.” With that, she stalked away, head held high, and wrenched open the door to the ballroom to disappear inside.
Cait still liked to get the last word. Blaming him and storming off in a huff was her usual M.O., so that much hadn’t changed. It was practically a repeat of that last night at his place. Everything had been his fault. Never hers.
He, however, had to think about bigger issues than Cait’s temper. Too many people were involved in Folly. Money and reputations were at stake. And he would not let Granddad’s glee at having Folly made be dampened by Cait and her possible dramatics. He would keep this project in line even if he had to kill people to get it done.
Finn gave himself a hard mental shake. He had to be rational about this. In the long run, Cait might prove to be a good choice for Folly. If she could pull off Rebecca, her name and potential star power could boost Folly’s box office revenues and award chances.
That didn’t mean it was going to be less of a hellish mess in the meantime, though.
Caitlyn closed her door against the heat and spread her arms to embrace the icy chill of the air-conditioned trailer. Yesterday she’d neglected to crank the thermostat down before she left and had come back to a trailer almost as hot as the outdoors. But today … Bliss, cool bliss.
Her sweaty skin felt better almost immediately, and she peeled off the dress sticking to her back and hung it in the closet. Another thing she loved about this role: the fashions of the Forties were flattering and feminine and made it easy to really embrace Rebecca’s character. In this heat, she was very glad Folly wasn’t set in an era where she’d have to wear corsets and mountainous dresses. If so, she’d be battling heatstroke about now.
In just her underwear, she went to the fridge for a bottle of water. She left the door open while she took a drink, letting the cool air from inside wash over her.
She’d been in London too long, gotten used to what they amusingly called “summer” and forgotten how stinking hot and humid summer could really be in some parts of the country.
Walter Farrell had been an assistant director under her father for many years, and had learned his philosophy about authenticity from the master. Like her father, Walter felt being in a similar setting—like this insufferable heat and humidity—would help the actors really connect with the characters, but Cait was rapidly developing sympathy for all the actors who’d worked with her father. Especially on that one film set in the jungle …
But, honestly, she didn’t care how much she sweated for this part. Caitlyn lay back on her small couch and fanned her face with her script. It wasn’t false pride or inflated ego to say that this was possibly the best performance of her life. She was working with a stellar cast, Hollywood’s best director—or at least second-best, she amended out of filial loyalty—and a crew that blew her away.
