cheeks flush. “Of course I have. I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I know you don’t just produce and direct entertainment. There’s always more than that to it, a bigger cause, an issue under the surface.”
So she’d realized that about him, had she? He didn’t know whether he’d expected her to be perceptive about his motives or not. “That’s one reason why I’m moving into documentaries. I don’t want to hide the cause anymore. I want to go after it. I have the clout and the money to do that now. I can film the stories I want to film.”
“Did you ever think about what you’d be doing if you hadn’t won that award in high school? Where you’d be now?”
He couldn’t tell if she was really asking about them or his life in general. Anytime they got near the personal, the vibrations between them picked up, the attraction he still felt for her ignited. “I still would have found a way to get to L.A. with or without my dad’s approval, with or without his money. You know that. It was that important for me to get away from here and find a life of my own.”
“And what if your career hadn’t worked out so well? What if success hadn’t come easy?”
“Easy? Is that really what you think?”
Moving around the bar, she helped him pull bottles from the cupboard. “It seemed like it. You went to film school, then you were directing your first movie which was a hit. Then you directed another and then another.”
When Zack reached into the cupboard, his shoulder grazed hers and a jolt of awareness hit him in the gut. He leaned away before she could see how that minor contact rocked him.
Clearing his throat, he said, “It did seem like that from the outside, didn’t it? That first film was a technical success, but not an industry success. For a year I worked in the stables outside of Anaheim to make money to keep a one-room apartment. I was still sending out résumés, reading scripts, thinking about what to do to make a career work. I directed a rock video that caught notice and put me in touch with the right people. One of them hired me as an assistant director. After that, I worked day and night, took any project I thought would get some notice until finally, I got my chance. A director backed out and I was in. That movie was an industry success. That movie won me my first Oscar.”
“I never knew you had to work so hard. Did Silas know?”
“Are you kidding? When I left, he told me he knew I’d come running back with my tail between my legs. There was no way in hell I wasn’t going to make my life out there work.”
And he’d been willing to make the two of them work, too. If only Jenny had come with him. If only she had tried, maybe then he wouldn’t still feel resentment and bitterness along with an attraction that wouldn’t fade. The sooner he was back in L.A. again, the better. But he’d made his father a promise, to stay here long enough so Jenny wouldn’t have the burden of running the Rocky D all on her own. He regretted that promise now. Looking into Jenny’s soft brown eyes, feeling his body respond to her, he knew his stay was going to be nothing but torture—on many fronts.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “You look … angry.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Did you ever imagine what your life might have been like if you had come with me?”
She looked surprised, as if she’d never expected that question to pop up. “I … I never wanted that kind of life.”
“How did you know when you hadn’t tried it?” Then he lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. During those couple of tough years, you wouldn’t have stuck by me. I know what you went through with your dad. You would have thought it was just more of the same.”
She looked as if he’d slapped her. There was real hurt in her eyes. He’d never meant to cause that. Or had he? Did he want her to feel the same pain he’d felt when she said she couldn’t go with him? This was so ridiculous, revisiting history that couldn’t be rewritten.
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. We made the decisions we did.”
In a quiet voice, she asked, “Where has your heart gone, Zack? You talk as if you have nothing but your work. Is that the way it is?”
“Work is everything, isn’t it, Jenny? Isn’t that why you stay here? What else do you have?”
She was quick to answer. “I have Silas. I also have friends and a sense of belonging in Miners Bluff. I have a life here, Zack. All of that is more important to me than just work.”
Zack’s cell phone buzzed and he was actually relieved for the interruption. Taking it from his belt, he checked the caller ID. “Speaking of friends, it’s Dawson. He’s returning my call. I’d better take this.”
Jenny studied him as if she hadn’t expected him to stay in touch with old friends.
He explained quickly, “Dawson, Clay and I kept in touch over the years. Dawson flies out for Lakers games now and then. Clay sends me photos and video clips of Abby. I can’t believe she’s growing as fast as she is.”
He opened his cell and would have passed Jenny without a glance, but she caught his arm, saying, “You stay. I’ll go.” The impression of her fingers burned through his sweater. The room felt hot and he knew it was definitely time to put distance between the two of them.
She hesitated as if she wanted to say so much more, but clearly thought better of it as she released his arm. “I’ll see how Silas is making out with that list.”
Zack wished she would take his memories and regrets with her.
“Hey, Dawson,” Zack said, watching Jenny leave the room. The scent of jasmine that always seemed to surround her still lingered in the air.
“Sorry for the phone tag,” Dawson apologized. “Construction’s picking up again and we’re swamped.”
“How’s Luke?”
There was a long hesitation on Dawson’s part, as if he didn’t talk about his son easily these days. It had been over a year and a half since Dawson’s wife died and Zack knew the boy was having problems getting over his mom’s death. Dawson had talked to him about it when Luke’s school grades had tanked, when he’d started getting in trouble, when Dawson was at his wit’s end because counselors hadn’t seemed able to help.
“That’s why I’m calling, Zack. Come January and the start of a new school term, I’m going to move us back to Miners Bluff.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve been considering it ever since I spoke to Mikala Conti at the reunion. You know she’s a music therapist.”
“I knew she was a counselor. I just didn’t realize what her specialty was.”
“Luke is into music. He spends more time with the piano and his iPod than with schoolwork or with me. When I mentioned that to Mikala, she said it could be a starting point. I’m willing to give anything a shot. Nothing here is helping.”
Zack knew Dawson’s life in Phoenix was high stress, long hours, with lots of monetary rewards. He had a huge house in Fountain Hills and more money than he’d ever need. But money wasn’t doing his son any good.
“Luke needs a supportive community around him,” Dawson continued. “And Mikala has a high success rate, according to the psychologist who has been treating Luke here. If Mikala could just get him started turning around so that he and I could at least communicate, that would mean everything.”
“What about the business?”
“I can handle it lots of ways. Dad’s a great manager when it comes to my crews. I can run everything long distance, at least temporarily.