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“Stop it!” He shot across the room. His hand came down on top of hers, jamming the keys. “This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?”
Bird Dog had slipped away, and she saw the pain beneath his anger. “It’s not a joke,” she said softly. “It’s something you have to do.”
He didn’t move. And then he lifted his hand and brushed her hair. She closed her eyes. He pulled away and headed into the kitchen. She heard him pour a cup of coffee. Her fingers shook as she tugged the paper from the typewriter. Jake came toward her, mug in hand. She slipped in a fresh sheet of paper.
“What are you doing?” He sounded tired, a little hoarse.
She took an unsteady breath. “You’re going to write today. I’m not letting you put it off any longer. This is it.”
“Our deal’s off.” He sounded defeated. “I’m moving out of the attic.”
She hardened herself against his sadness. “I don’t care where you move. But we have an agreement, and we’re sticking to it.”
“Is that all you care about? Your two-bit agency.”
His anger was phony, and she wouldn’t let him bait her. “You’re writing today.”
He stepped behind her, set down his coffee mug, and settled his hands lightly on her shoulders. “I don’t think so.”
He lifted her hair and pressed his mouth into the softness just beneath her ear. His breath felt warm on her skin, and the soft touch of his lips made all her senses come alive. For a moment, she let herself give in to the sensations he was arousing. Just for a moment…
His hands slipped under her sweater and slid up over her bare skin to the lacy cups of her bra. He toyed with her nipples through the silk. His touch felt so good. Ripples of pleasure scuttled through her body. He unfastened the center clasp of her bra and pushed aside the cups. As he slipped up her sweater and bared her breasts, the ripples turned into waves of heat rushing through her veins. He pushed her shoulders back against the chair so her breasts tilted upward and began teasing the nipples with his thumbs. His lips caught her earlobe, then trailed along her neck. He was a master seducer playing with her body, going from one erogenous point to another as if he were following a chart in a sex manual.
Right then, she knew she was being bought.
She shoved his hands away from their carefully calculated seduction and jerked down her sweater. “You’re a real bastard.” She rose from the chair. “This was the easiest way to close me out, wasn’t it?”
He stared at a point just past her head. Doors slammed shut, shades pulled down, shutters locked tight. “Don’t push me.”
She was furious with herself for giving in so easily, furious with him, and unbearably sad. “The circle’s complete now,” she said. “You’ve played Bird Dog for so long that he’s finally taken over. He’s eating up what was left of your decency.”
He stalked across the room and pulled the door open.
She gripped the edge of the desk. “Making those crappy movies is easier than doing your real work.”
“Get out.”
“Mr. Tough Guy has a yellow streak a mile wide.” She dropped back down in the chair. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely push the typewriter keys. “Act One, Scene One, damn you…”
“You’re crazy.”
“Act One, Scene One. What’s the first line?”
“You’re out of your frigging mind!”
“Come on, you know exactly what this play’s about.”
“It’s not a play!” He stalked over to her, his expression so tormented that she winced. One of his hands knotted into a fist. “It’s a book! I have to write a book. A book about ’Nam.”
She took a deep breath. “A war book? That’s right up Bird Dog’s alley.”
His voice grew quiet. “You don’t know anything.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“You weren’t there. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re one of the best writers in the country. Make me understand.”
