No Stopping Now

“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.