and humanity and strength of character that was genuine, not an act for my benefit and as a way to seduce me. Like the way he’d reacted with Reena earlier. More of that sincere compassion sustained on a daily basis.
Only then would I feel comfortable in my head and heart with this man. And without the cooperation of head and heart, my body would just have to go without.
No matter what kind of fuss it kicked up over that.
I turned the conversation to distract myself from that whole line of thought and the dichotomous feelings it produced.
“Have there been other accidents like Reena’s on your sets?”
“One of the guys we were filming the shark episode with got stung by a jellyfish.” Chris transitioned smoothly to the new topic. “We did not urinate on him, although in hindsight that would have made for better television. It was a moon jelly, so not all that poisonous, and he was back in the water with us the next day.”
“In the water?”
“In a shark cage when we were swimming with bull sharks and hammerheads. We did free swim with some nurse and leopard sharks, but even then our hosts were off-camera doling out the chum to keep them from getting too interested in me. The studio apparently thinks I’m too valuable to risk, so by contract I can’t engage in any overtly dangerous or close-contact activities. Of course, the interpretation of what that means is rather fluid. How close is too close? Is being in the same vicinity as a potentially dangerous animal an overt danger?”
“How do you know when it’s safe to push the boundaries?”
“I don’t always. A lot depends on how much trust I have in the people around me—like you—who are with the animals daily. If I feel confident in them, when they tell me it’s okay to, say, let a wolf come up and sniff me, then I’ll agree. Otherwise, I point to my contract as an out.” He chuckled. “It’s easy to use the studio as the bad guy. Makes me look affable and like I trust everyone and would be willing to walk into any situation if only my life wasn’t dictated by the studio.”
I studied the man in front of me as he poured two fingers of brandy into his tea and leaned back in his camp chair. Why hadn’t it occurred to me before now that his trust in the lions came from his trust in me first?
“So how much do you trust me?” I asked.
He studied me in turn, then shrugged easily, the muscles under his shirt moving it across his broad shoulders in a quite hypnotic way. “Enough to tell you what I just did.”
“Why?” I pressed.
“Why do I trust you or why am I telling you?”
There was no reason for me to answer as I continued to hold that sapphire-blue stare. His own answer was going to be the same either way. He was just buying heart time—that moment needed before confessing something of true importance.
“Because I want to. Because you—” he exhaled whatever flippant thing he might have said in favor of the truth “—you inspire me to. Because there’s nothing fake about you. Every other woman, except for Reena, wants something from me, you know. They tell me what they think I want to hear, not what they really feel. And sure, I sometimes reward their lies, so I keep getting all these sycophants fluttering around me. But I’m pretty sure you’d hit me if I called you a sycophant, so I trust you to be straight with me. And since Brandy and I here are being especially honest right now, I think you being straight with me and not trying to get into my pants, despite their open invitation, makes you, I dunno, more desirable. Sexier. Not at the wow level of that gorgeous body of yours, but underneath, in a place most women never let me see.”
He was right—what lay mostly hidden in that place, stripped of the outer trappings beyond the passion of social genetic engineering, was seduction itself.
I felt the draw, deny it though I tried.
That night, when I put aside my work, I fell asleep to the memory of the revelation
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