Say My Name (Stark International Trilogy, #1) (69)

He sighs. “Well, I can still have my ménage fantasies.”

I laugh, but I can’t deny that his words have gotten all twisted up inside me.

He must recognize my shift in mood, because he turns in his seat to frown at me. “You know I was joking, right?”

“About a three-way with me and Cass? Yeah. Besides, she’d twist your balls off if you suggested something like that. She’s a little overprotective of me.”

“I know the feeling. What I don’t know is where your thoughts went all of a sudden.”

“Just you and fantasies about women. And, you know, you and women. Forget the fantasies.”

His finger taps a rhythm on the steering wheel. “I’m reasonably certain you couldn’t be more vague if you tried.”

“You’ve dated a lot of women.” There. I have spit it out. “Irena Kent, for example. You were even with her at the premiere. It’s all over the press that you’re dating her.” I’d confirmed that myself with a quick internet search after Jamie told me what she knew.

“Dating her? No. But I was sleeping with her. I’m not anymore.”

“I see.”

“Actually, I don’t think you do. I’ve fucked a lot of women, Sylvia. Before and after Atlanta.”

“And now you’re sleeping with me.” I hear both hurt and jealousy in my voice. And it pisses me off.

“No.” His voice is hard. Firm. “None of them are like you.”

“Why not?”

He takes my hand and lifts it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Because you matter to me. And I didn’t have anything to prove to them.”

The words warm me, even though I don’t entirely understand them.

“What do you have to prove to me?”

His grin is wide. “I guess you’ll know once I prove it.”

I shake my head, amused. “How much longer until we get to what you want to show me?”

“Not much farther.”

“And no clues?”

“Not even one,” he says.

“Fine. In that case I’ll continue to harass you about old girlfriends.”

“Oh, joy.”

I smirk. “Actually, it’s more about the movie, but talking about Irena Kent reminded me. My friend Jamie says she’s hoping to get a starring role, and that’s why she cozied up to you.”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.” Jackson’s voice is tight. “But considering I don’t want to see the movie made at all, her plan is doomed to failure.”

“Is it true you punched out the screenwriter?”

I see his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Please tell me you didn’t read that in the gossip rags.”

“No, I heard it from Jamie. She heard it from a friend. Said it was very hush-hush.”

“Good. I paid a lot of money to keep it hush-hush.”

“So you really did punch the guy.” I’m oddly fascinated by this. “I thought you were all about boxing clubs and not smacking down innocent people.”

“Trust me,” he says darkly. “That asshole was not innocent.”

I decide not to press that point, but I can’t stop thinking about the movie in general.

“What?” he says after we’ve driven about five miles in absolute silence.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but your thoughts are deafening.”

“I just don’t get it,” I admit. “That house is spectacular, and it’s what put your career on the map. I know there was a tragedy there, but that was long after the house was completed and you were in Vegas working on the Union Bank building. So why does the thought of a movie bother you so much?”

“Because it’s private.” I hear the sharp edge to his voice and wince a bit. He notices, and I watch as his shoulders sag. “Sorry. But the whole project is surrounded by tragedy, and the damn producer who’s interested in the film is sticking his nose in where it doesn’t need to be. It’s personal. It’s private. And there are real people with real lives who are going to get hurt if the damn thing gets made.”

I still don’t understand, but I’m not going to push. It’s clear enough to me that Jackson hasn’t told me the entire story. But considering I’m hanging on tight to secrets of my own, I can hardly bitch too loudly.

I reach over and brush my hand over his shoulder. “I may not understand why, but I get that it’s important to you. And I hope you get the movie shut down, too.”

His smile is one of thanks and acknowledgment. “Speaking of movies, Michael is hosting a fund-raiser at his house Friday night. For the National Historic and Architectural Conservation Project. It’s a good cause, and he’s a good guy. Will you go with me?”

“Of course.” I wriggle a little in my seat. Considering everything we’ve now been through together, it’s probably silly. But the thought of going on a proper date with Jackson makes me undeniably happy.

It’s only then that I notice that he’s slowed to make a right turn. I glance around, then look to him in question. “The Palisades?”

“You’ll see.”

He turns, and I pay attention as he climbs the canyon road, then turns and doubles back toward the ocean until the road makes a sharp right and we follow it, essentially traveling parallel to the coast highway, but well above it in the hills.