Shock Waves

Jimmie groaned. “Whoever said showbiz is glamorous needs their head checked.” He pointed at his pal. “Watch out for that guy,” he said to Ellie as he headed toward the tent opening.

Wouldn’t Bill be surprised to know she’d been watching out for him for a long, long time.

After Jimmie left, Bill stared at Ellie, trying not to think how drop-dead sexy that fishnet cover-thing was over that red bikini. Very teasing. Very exciting.

Both of which were Ellie right now. All grown-up and hot and retro sexy in that peekaboo red bikini and matching shoes. Enough to make a man howl at the moon.

“What’re you thinking about?” she asked.

With another woman, he might have said. But with Ellie…well, it was different. He wasn’t exactly sure why, just knew he felt more protective. Of her, certainly. But also of their past. As though that bubble of time so long ago was more fragile than he’d realized.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Famished.”

“Me, too.” He guided her toward the tent opening, his arm comfortably around her shoulders, their steps in sync. “Let’s go to the festival and get some chow.”

Ellie felt as though they’d walked this way a hundred times. His arm rested so easily around her, the side of his body seemed to fit perfectly against her. Muscles against curves, hard into soft.

When he leaned his head down, she caught a whiff of his cologne—cinnamon and musk—and nearly swooned at the rich, dark scent. Someone had once told her cinnamon was an aphrodisiac, and if she didn’t believe it before, she sure did now.

“Something about you, Ellie,” he murmured, his breath hot against her cheek.

She waited, but he didn’t finish the thought. Even if he had, she doubted she’d have been able to stay focused and hear the words because she was caught up in sensations. His breath caressing her cheek, his thigh rubbing seductively against hers as they walked, that cinnamon scent shooting straight to the pleasure center of her brain.

They headed out into the blinding sunshine. The sand sank underneath her feet and she stumbled slightly.

“It’s those sinister shoes,” teased Bill, helping her regain her balance.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear at the beach,” she murmured.

“Coulda fooled me.” He gave her an appreciative once-over, which gave her no small thrill.

She plastered on her best beach-babe smile, although she felt like a total fake. Except for the shoes. And the fishnet. And the tattoos, of course.

And how she felt every time she was near him. Those feelings were as deep and real as they’d been when she was a girl.

They faced each other, the heat from the sun pouring down on them. In the distance, waves thundered against the shoreline. A couple of teenagers walked past, carrying umbrellas, towels and a radio that was blasting Sheryl Crow singing how she just wanted to have some fun.

So did Ellie. She’d started out telling herself this week was about chilling, then about winning points and being on her favorite show. But now all that paled to what she really wanted—to be with Bill and have fun. The kind of no-regrets, go-for-it fun she never allowed herself. Now was the perfect time to indulge herself.

And he was the perfect man to indulge herself with.

Everything would be great, too, as long as she kept up the facade, never let on that she lived in that depressing vampire world where he assumed goths resided. From what she’d gleaned, this was his only afternoon off, so she didn’t have to keep that facade up for long anyway. A few hours, hopefully more. Not a daunting task.

Although the thought of saying goodbye again was.

“Something wrong?” he asked, concern filling his eyes.

She glanced at the coffee stain. “It’s probably set by now. Too late to get it out.”

“Now, now, Ellie, so pessimistic,” he kidded, lightly rubbing her back.

She could feel the heat from his hand through the open spaces in the fishnet, warm and liquid against the bareness of her back. His touch was light, confident, exciting.

“We have bigger things to worry about than a coffee stain.” He took her hand and started walking toward the festival. “Like what should we order for lunch?”

It’d been seventeen years since her maddening childhood crush. Seventeen years of remembering and fantasizing about Bill, and now all those memories and dreams and girlish yearnings coalesced into this single afternoon. If she ever had the opportunity to live in the moment, this was it. To revel in each moment, each minute, each hour.

Even if what happened in Malibu stayed in Malibu, she’d have the memories of this afternoon for the rest of her life.

4

GOING TO THE FESTIVAL was one thing.

Getting inside was another.

Ellie stood on the beach, the afternoon sun hot on her skin, her sweaty hand in Bill’s, staring down the imposing-looking man blocking the festival side entrance. His size put him in the sumo wrestler league, and that patch over his eye gave him a Captain Barbossa in Pirates of the Caribbean look. If that combo wasn’t bad enough, the words “You Lookin’ at Me?” emblazoned on his tank top indicated either he had a rampant paranoia streak, or she would any moment.

“Go on in,” murmured Bill, giving her hand a tug.

Digging her wedgies into the sand, she rasped, “Yeah, right, I’ve always wanted to die in Malibu.”

“C’mon, Ellie. Thought you were hungry.”

She averted her gaze in case Captain Sumo thought she was lookin’ at him. “Can’t we go in the main entrance?”

His eyebrows pressed together. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Like you need to ask.”

With a low, throaty chuckle, he leaned his face close to hers. “I refuse to believe,” he murmured, “that anyone who wears a Queen of Evil tattoo is afraid of walking past one itty-bitty security guard.”

“Itty-bitty?” She blinked. “You’ve obviously been out in the sun too long.”

He squeezed her hand. “Trust me on this, Ellie.”

When they reached the guard, Bill paused, nodded a greeting. “How’s it going, Sam?”

“It’s cool, Bill.”

“Mind if we go in?”

“You’re the man.” Sam stepped aside, motioned for them to enter.

They stepped inside a small tented area, the air cooled with the help of several rotating fans. Ellie stopped, brushed a strand of damp hair off her forehead. “So you two know each other.”

“He’s one of the security guys on the Sin on the Beach set.”