After four days of not a single frame being shot, silence fell over the set in an instant. Aslin suspected every crew and cast member present knew now was not the time to test the director.
Four days of no filming made for one very agitated, stressed and intense Nigel McQueen.
Four days of no filming for Aslin however, meant four days of quietly investigating every possibility presented to him regarding Rowan’s attacker.
Of repeated frustration when every possibility lead nowhere.
Even the police seemed to believe the detonation of his trailer was an accident. When they’d finished with that, they’d begun to ask about the accident in the dormitory, questioning how a beam installed by the crew could splinter and fall to the ground. Aslin had done his best to glean anything from their behaviour and body language, but there was only so much a fight consultant was allowed to hear.
He’d suggested it wasn’t an accident when they’d spoken to him about it. Or should that be interrogated? It didn’t take more than two questions for Aslin to realize the investigating officer was suspicious about him.
To give the cop his due, Aslin would be suspicious as well. The accidents hadn’t started until he arrived, and he always seemed to be connected or involved in some way. He was in Chris’s trailer when the steps were tampered with, he was on set when the beam splintered and fell, and it was his trailer that had exploded.
That didn’t assuage his simmering rage in any way. Nor did it help him find out who was targeting Rowan.
And despite all the possibilities that lead nowhere he still couldn’t shake the belief Rowan was in danger. He’d investigated crew members that had shared angry words with Rowan during the first U.S. section of shooting, only to discover they were not a part of the Australian team. He’d spoken to Chris’s agent about any fan mail that may have mentioned Rowan, learning there was none. Hell, he’d even tracked down the owner of the empty gas-heater box found in one of the film set’s dumpsters, his hopes shattered when it belonged to a member of the makeup team who’d come down with the flu.
Four days of coming up empty and stalking shadows.
And four days of falling deeper and deeper in love with Rowan.
When he wasn’t on set trying to find a lead, Aslin was with Rowan. Often they were both with Chris. The actor had settled into a relaxed routine since filming shut down. He’d collect Aslin from the Hilton in the morning, go for a surf with Jeff and Warren while Aslin watched from the sand, drop Warren back on set and spend the day hanging out with Aslin and Rowan. He never questioned his sister why she hadn’t left Aslin’s room. He spent most of the time with his feet up, flicking through his dog-eared script, discussing certain aspects with Aslin, talking over future film offers with Rowan.
Occasionally, Tilly would call or arrive to deliver something—script changes Nigel had decided on, gifts from Australian fans, requests from local media for appearances, but for the most part, he was just a young man hanging out, making his sister laugh.
For that, Aslin would protect the actor with his life.
Because every time Rowan laughed, Aslin’s life gained greater meaning. Deeper purpose.
Every time she smiled, he knew what his future held. Not the life of a rock-star’s bodyguard. Not the possibility of returning to the UK for active duty again. Not even the uncertainty of a future career.
Her. Forever. No matter where she was, where she went.
Nick had paid him well during his time, very well. He didn’t need to earn a cent for many years if he didn’t want to. And he didn’t. He just wanted to be with Rowan.
Four days had shown him that.
Four days of relaxed company, eating room service, watching television, enjoying Chris’s company as Aslin allowed Rowan to heal.
Four nights of making love to her until they were both weak and breathless and dripping in sweat.
If anyone had told him sex was a better workout than an hour or two at a punching bag, he would have laughed at them. But it was. And the more Rowan’s physical injuries healed, the more fierce their lovemaking became.
A warm tension curled deep in the pit of Aslin’s stomach at the thought. More than fierce. Profound.
Last night, after Rowan had promised to tie him up and spank him if he didn’t make her come three times in a row, he’d chased her around his suite, both laughing themselves silly. He’d chased her and she’d run, only to be finally cornered at the door.
He’d pinned her there with his hips, his erection grinding to her belly, tormenting her with his lips as he told her she was the one going to be spanked, thank you very much. She was going to be spanked and he was going to be the spanker.