The Things She Says(29)
“I can’t figure out the theme for Visions of Black.” Wow, that had not been what he’d meant to say at all. “It’s bothering me. Normally, I’d have all that down by now.”
“What’s the movie about?” Her hand inched closer to his but didn’t touch it.
“It’s a drama about a woman who wakes up in the hospital blind and suffering from amnesia, but she can see visions in her head of disjointed scenes. A persistence of vision she can’t stop.” He glanced at her, and she was watching him closely. No doubt picking apart his brain with her odd insight. “Persistence of vision is a theory that an image stays on the eye after that image has actually disappeared, which is how some scientists think people process the individual frames of film. So it all ties together. I’m boring you.”
“Not at all,” she said softly. “I love listening to you talk. Your voice does something to me. And it’s kind of delicious.”
The atmosphere in the car grew thick with thrumming anticipation again. He had to shift it, get a barrier up fast, or he was going to fall headlong into her and this time, he wouldn’t stop. He cleared his throat. “The backing and publicity for Visions of Black are really important. My career is at stake. I’ve been trying for years to find the right combination of art and commercial success with no luck. In Hollywood, it’s all about the numbers. A bigger budget and the right names attached to the movie are the only things I haven’t tried.” He fiddled with the air conditioner until it was blowing at exactly the same rate and temperature as before he’d started. “I have to do this, and Kyla’s a big part of it. Film is important to me. It’s my only outlet.”
“Oh. I see.”
He had a really distinct feeling she did. “No jokes about how repressed I am? You’re not going to offer to be my other outlet? I handed that to you, gift-wrapped. With a bow.”
She shrugged. “Trust me, I had a scintillating response on the tip of my tongue, but I’m going to apologize instead. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard. About love and romance. It’s none of my business. I understand the engagement is important to the film. I’ll back off.”
The barrier thumped into place. Quiet filled the car and pressed down on his shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize for having an opinion. A really strong opinion.” She didn’t smile. His shoulders got heavier. “Truthfully, I was looking forward to more stage five.”
She sighed. “It’s kind of pointless. You don’t even believe in love.”
Ouch. That pained expression on her face had him stumbling to speak. “What people think is love fades more easily than anyone will admit. Love is best confined to the screen, where it can last. So why not have a marriage based on a business agreement? At least then everyone’s on the same page.”
Even the idea of marriage nauseated him. Passion died, without a doubt, and when it did, a wife was on the front line for what it turned into. He couldn’t allow that to happen to anyone, least of all to a person unfortunate enough to fall in love with him.
Passion didn’t last. Love didn’t last. His career had been built on capturing both the only possible way. The safest way.
“You’re challenging me to prove love can last forever,” she said. “Which is impossible since I haven’t lived forever yet. Hook up with a vampire if you want better data.”
“Until I find one, you’re the only expert I’ve got. Why are you so sold on this whole idea of hearts and cupids? Read too many books?”
That was the wrong thing to say. Stiffly, she rested the side of her head on the glass, and he had the impression it wasn’t far enough away for her. “I just am.”
Something sharp clogged his windpipe. She had shut down, thanks to his stupid barriers, and he couldn’t stand it. “You can’t cop out. I’m being brutally honest. Now it’s your turn.”
She sank down in the seat. Way down. “I promised Mama. On her death bed.”
The last word was cut off as she buried her face in the T-shirt’s hem. Crying. Did his stupidity know no bounds?
Without hesitation, he took the next exit and rolled to a stop as soon as the car cleared the white line. Some things required his full attention. He stroked her back until she peered up from the pile of shirt. “Better now?” he asked.
“I’m not usually such a crybaby.”
“I’m not usually such an idiot.”
She choked out a laugh, and he finally took a deep enough breath to clear his head. One tear ran down her cheek and she seemed too drained to notice, so he wiped it away with the palm of his hand.