assurance she both loved and detested. Making him pay for that small victory would be a pleasure. Turning on her heel, Brooke strode back to her crew.
'Take one,' she ordered, then waited, turning ideas for vengeance over in her mind. She took the bullhorn her assistant handed her. 'Places!' Parks led the palomino into the surf. Brooke stared at him, forcing herself to put her personal feelings on hold while she thought and felt and saw only as a director. 'Roll film, and…action!'
He's magnificent, Brooke thought with a twin surge of pride and irritation. He took the horse into an easy, rolling gallop, kicking up the surf so that the streams of water rose high. Beads glistened on his skin, darkly tanned so that he and the palomino merged into one golden form. Parks's hair and the horse's mane lifted in the wind the motion caused. Strength, an elegance of movement and the simplicity of two beautiful animals. Brooke didn't need special effects to show her how it would look in slow motion. 'Cut. E.J.?'
'Fantastic,' he called down. 'Sales of de Marco jeans just went up ten percent.'
'Let's make sure.' Pulling her damp shirt away from her back, Brooke walked to where Parks waited, astride the horse. It had been fantastic, she mused, but not perfect. Spotting her, Parks broke off his conversation with the palomino's trainer.
'Well?'
'It looked pretty good. Let's do it again.'
'Why?'
Ignoring the question, she absently patted the gelding's smooth throat. 'I want you to look down the beach as you ride…all the way down.' She didn't want that comfortable, free-wheeling sexuality this time, but a dash of aloofness, the solitary-man appeal flavored with the sensuality any female over twelve would recognize.
He shifted in the saddle, his eyes never leaving hers. 'Why?'
'Ride the horse, Parks,' she countered. 'Let me sell the jeans.'
Very slowly, he dismounted. The trainer quickly remembered something he had to do somewhere else. Behind them, the crew became very busy. Parks held the reins in one hand while he and Brooke measured each other. 'Ever considered asking?' he said quietly. 'Ever considered following directions?' she tossed back.
He felt the salt spray drying on his skin. ''Too bad you've never been a team player, Brooke.'
'This isn't a ball game,' she retorted, firing up. 'We*all have our jobs to do. Yours is whatever I tell you it is.'
The flash of anger in his eyes suited her mood. She wanted a fight, a rip-roaring screamer that would tear through the tension of their last few days together. Planting her feet, Brooke prepared to attack and defend.
'No,' he said with a sudden deadly calm that put her at a disadvantage, 'it's not. My job is to endorse de Marco.'
'And that's what I'm telling you to do.' She forced herself to match his tone, though she badly wanted to shout. ''If you want to be a prima donna, wait until after we wrap. Take your complaints and talk to your agent.'
His hand snaked out to grab her arm before she could stalk away. 'I'm talking to my wife.'
Heart hammering in her throat, she looked down at the hand that held her. 'Your director,' Brooke icily corrected, meeting his eyes. 'My crew's hot, Parks. I'd like to finish this before someone faints from heat exhaustion.'
His grip tightened. But he saw that her face was flushed from the heat and damp with sweat. 'We're not finished with this,' he told her as he released her arm. 'This time, you're going to take a good hard look at the rules.' Swinging onto the horse, Parks rode away before she could think of an appropriate comment.
Brooke frowned after him as she stalked back to the crane. 'Take two.'
He could have given no logical, succinct explanation for his anger. Parks only knew he was furious.
He had only one motivation as he stalked down the corridors to Brooke's office-to have it out with her. He wasn't certain what it was, but he would have had it out with her on location if she hadn't been gone before he'd realized it. Though he wasn't thrilled about coming to terms with her in her office, he'd had plenty of experience in meeting a challenge on the opposition's home field. All it meant was that he would take the offensive first.
Brushing by her secretary without a word, Parks pushed open the door to Brooke's office. Empty. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Jones.' The secretary hurried up to him, warned by the dangerous light in his eye. 'Ms. Gordon…Mrs. Jones isn't in.'
'Where?' Parks demanded curtly.
'I- Perhaps Ms. Thorton's office. If you'll wait, I'll check for you…' But he was already heading out with a long, determined stride that had her chewing on the nail of her forefinger. It looked like Brooke was in trouble. And some people have all the luck, the secretary mused before she went back to her desk. In less than five minutes, Parks walked by the twins in Claire's outer office and opened her door without knocking. 'Where's Brooke?' he demanded, not bothering to greet Claire or his agent.
'Good afternoon, Parks,' Claire said easily. 'Tea?' She continued to pour Lee's cup as if a furious man weren't at that moment glaring at her.
Parks gave the classic little tea service a brief glance. 'I'm looking for Brooke.'
'You've missed her, I'm afraid.' Claire sipped her tea, then offered Lee a plate of macaroons. 'She was in and out a half an hour ago. Would you like a cookie, Parks?'
'No…' He managed to get a tenuous hold on his manners. 'Thanks. Where did she go?'
Claire nibbled on a macaroon, then dusted her fingers on a pink linen napkin. 'Didn't she say she was going home, Lee?'
'Yep. And she wasn't in any better mood than Parks is.' He sent his client a bland smile before he wolfed down a cookie.
'No, she wasn't, was she?' Claire folded her hands on her lap. ' 'Tell me, dear, are you two having a tiff?'
'No, we're not having a tiff,' Parks muttered, not certain what they were having. It occurred to him suddenly how cozy his agent and his producer were on the small two-cushioned sofa. 'What are you two having?' he countered.
'Tea.' Claire smiled her dry smile.
'Why don't you have a seat and cool off,' Lee invited. 'You look like you've just played nine full innings.'
'We were shooting on the beach,' Parks murmured. Did Lee Dutton have his arm around Claire Thorton, or was he seeing things?
'It went well?' Claire asked, noting his expression, amused by the reason for it.
'Apparently Brooke was satisfied.' 'Apparently,' Claire murmured, then shot him a level stare. ''When are you and Brooke going to relax and enjoy yourselves?'
Parks's speculative look changed to a frown. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean I've never in my life seen two people spend so much time poking at each other.'
'Is that what you call it?' Parks muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
'For want of a better term.' Claire set her teacup carefully in its saucer. 'I realize, of course, that the power game is a founding part of your relationship, and provides its own stimulation, but don't you think it's time you became a family as well as opponents?' Keeping her eyes level, Claire settled into the crook of Lee's arm.
Parks stared at her for nearly a full minute. Power game, he repeated silently. Well yes, it was an intricate part of what they were to each other. They had both looked for strength, challenge, and would have walked the other way if they hadn't found the combination. But as for the rest-a family… Was that what was niggling at the back of his mind? Wasn't it true that he couldn't resolve himself to the fact that they were living in her house, surrounded by her things? He still felt uncomfortably like a guest. Even as fresh annoyance grew, he remembered their discussing a trip to Maui. He had told Brooke he wanted her to see his place. But… Even as he searched for an excuse, he knew he wouldn't find one.
Turning, Parks paced to the window and scowled out. 'I don't think Brooke's ready for a family relationship.' The brief, undignified answer Claire gave him had Parks turning back, half-amused. Lee merely reached forward and snatched another cookie.
'She's looked for one all of her life. If you know anything about her, you know that.' Suddenly angry, Claire rose. 'Is it possible for two people to live together and not understand the other's needs, the other's hurts? How much has she told you about how she grew up?'
'Barely anything,' Parks began. 'She-'
