Read Online Below the Line by Candice Owen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Candice Owen
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perfectly. Even so, it was missing something. Gone was that fire he had before, that burning need to make it seem real. Now, he merely went through the motions. Nothing she did or said seemed to affect his indifference.
What will I do if he comes across flat during filming? Will they demand I find someone to replace him? There is no time for that and it isn’t fair to Nate. It isn’t his fault that I’ve screwed everything up.
Picking up her cell, Marissa dialed Nate’s number, hoping to catch him before he left the studio lot.
** *
Nate looked down at his phone and hit decline. He wasn’t sure he could talk to her right that second. It had been a full week, and still, Marissa was as cool towards him as that first day back.
He needed to work tonight. He had been neglecting the club, and some time with his family was needed. Maybe some hard work would wear him down enough to let him sleep in peace tonight—without fevered dreams of Marissa’s soft skin under his hands waking him up every couple of hours.
Most of the regulars were already there, working on a meal or playing pool. They greeted him the way men do, with head nods or a quick raise of the hand. He returned them all and headed down the hall to his office. There were several messages stuck to his door. Nothing that required immediate attention, but he would take care of them while he was around.
The club was in full swing by the time he finished up his calls and paperwork. Jumping into the fray, he played bar back and helped bartend. He put on a good show of acting normal, flirting and teasing, but his heart wasn’t in it.
She walked in around nine, wearing what he was sure she thought biker chicks should wear. Every male in the room stopped to stare, jaws slack. The females weren’t as impressed. Jumping over the bar top, Nate went to run interference, wondering what on earth had possessed her to come to his club tonight.
***
Marissa called twice. Nate didn’t answer either time. He was obviously avoiding her. Not that she could blame him. She had been a real bitch to him this week. Not just him, to everyone. The only thing she could do was apologize and hope they could work things out and handle what had happened like adults. Only if she could get him to talk to her though.
There were only a couple of places he would be on a Friday night. His house or the club. Marissa was betting on the club. Grabbing some clothes, she jumped in the shower.
It was well after nine when she got there. She had trouble finding a place to park her bike, the parking lot was so full. The music was so loud she could hear it from the road. The place was packed, more so than usual, even for a weekend night.
Getting in the door was easy, but the wall of bodies around the dance floor was four or five deep. She began working her way through the crowd trying to get to the bar. Several women sent openly hostile looks her way, shocking her. Everyone had been so friendly the last time.
Somehow she got pushed closer towards the dance floor instead of the bar. It was impossible to get through, and all the people were overly excited, yelling over the music and each other. An angry brunette with a tattoo of a skull on her neck elbowed Marissa hard, causing her to stumble out onto the dance floor.
She turned, intending to get her bearings so she could try wading through all the bodies again. That was when she saw them. Her stomach twisted with something dark and painful. She turned and ran for the door, angrily pushing people out of her way.
CHAPTER THRTEEN
Kate Fisher was a spoiled little Hollywood Princess. His first impression of her stood firm after spending less than an hour in her company. She had walked into his club as if she was walking a red carpet, all smiles and false excitement—and she was high as a kite.
He had done nothing but babysit her since she had walked in the door. She was popular with
What will I do if he comes across flat during filming? Will they demand I find someone to replace him? There is no time for that and it isn’t fair to Nate. It isn’t his fault that I’ve screwed everything up.
Picking up her cell, Marissa dialed Nate’s number, hoping to catch him before he left the studio lot.
** *
Nate looked down at his phone and hit decline. He wasn’t sure he could talk to her right that second. It had been a full week, and still, Marissa was as cool towards him as that first day back.
He needed to work tonight. He had been neglecting the club, and some time with his family was needed. Maybe some hard work would wear him down enough to let him sleep in peace tonight—without fevered dreams of Marissa’s soft skin under his hands waking him up every couple of hours.
Most of the regulars were already there, working on a meal or playing pool. They greeted him the way men do, with head nods or a quick raise of the hand. He returned them all and headed down the hall to his office. There were several messages stuck to his door. Nothing that required immediate attention, but he would take care of them while he was around.
The club was in full swing by the time he finished up his calls and paperwork. Jumping into the fray, he played bar back and helped bartend. He put on a good show of acting normal, flirting and teasing, but his heart wasn’t in it.
She walked in around nine, wearing what he was sure she thought biker chicks should wear. Every male in the room stopped to stare, jaws slack. The females weren’t as impressed. Jumping over the bar top, Nate went to run interference, wondering what on earth had possessed her to come to his club tonight.
***
Marissa called twice. Nate didn’t answer either time. He was obviously avoiding her. Not that she could blame him. She had been a real bitch to him this week. Not just him, to everyone. The only thing she could do was apologize and hope they could work things out and handle what had happened like adults. Only if she could get him to talk to her though.
There were only a couple of places he would be on a Friday night. His house or the club. Marissa was betting on the club. Grabbing some clothes, she jumped in the shower.
It was well after nine when she got there. She had trouble finding a place to park her bike, the parking lot was so full. The music was so loud she could hear it from the road. The place was packed, more so than usual, even for a weekend night.
Getting in the door was easy, but the wall of bodies around the dance floor was four or five deep. She began working her way through the crowd trying to get to the bar. Several women sent openly hostile looks her way, shocking her. Everyone had been so friendly the last time.
Somehow she got pushed closer towards the dance floor instead of the bar. It was impossible to get through, and all the people were overly excited, yelling over the music and each other. An angry brunette with a tattoo of a skull on her neck elbowed Marissa hard, causing her to stumble out onto the dance floor.
She turned, intending to get her bearings so she could try wading through all the bodies again. That was when she saw them. Her stomach twisted with something dark and painful. She turned and ran for the door, angrily pushing people out of her way.
CHAPTER THRTEEN
Kate Fisher was a spoiled little Hollywood Princess. His first impression of her stood firm after spending less than an hour in her company. She had walked into his club as if she was walking a red carpet, all smiles and false excitement—and she was high as a kite.
He had done nothing but babysit her since she had walked in the door. She was popular with
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