Ethan Read Online Free Page A

made his way through Sundance and Cannes and other venues with docudramas focused on just causes.  He had more than a few blockbuster, action-packed thrillers that drew in crowds and gave him clout. But he had pet projects, too, that he wasn’t afraid to explore.
    In Shae’s estimate, all of that placed him rungs above many of her colleagues.
    Also in his favor, as far as she was concerned, was the fact that Ethan Abrams was not gorgeous. Not pretty. Certainly not sculpted for his position by something as urban as a personal trainer and a stylist. The man was rugged, with strong cheekbones and shoulders that seemed to take up the breadth of every shot snapped of him. Ethan Abrams was intense. He had a steady gaze and, so far, two countenances—a grim smile and an open, in your face laughter. She wondered if he was a man of extremes, swinging from one emotion to another. Shae had been there, done that, and it was a ride that had left her with motion sickness.
    She’d forgotten to ask Stevie about Ethan’s temperament. Would she be working with a prima donna? A control freak? A man for whom rules and propriety meant nothing? Shae had had her share of all of that while making a name for herself and she’d survived, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to waste any of her precious time with a scoundrel, though, not when she had ideas for cribs and carriers to work out.
    Abrams was thirty-four years old with blond hair he’d barely allowed to grow out of its Marine buzz cut. He was more often than not photographed with a five o’clock shadow. With green eyes and a nearly perfect smile—a slim gap between his front and eye teeth gave him a roguish grin—he was almost the boy next door. Except that intensity.
    It was a staple of creativity. Shae knew it could drive a person to great heights when channeled correctly. It could also ruin a person. She’d lived in L.A. long enough to witness the implosion of more than one talented artist.
    That was as far as she got in her search. Not bad for a first impression. Abrams seemed like a decent guy.
    Running short on time, she downloaded a list of all the movies he’d worked on and their storylines into a file on her iPhone. If need be, she could investigate more later.
    She stowed her laptop in the back of her Audi Q5, dropped her purse on the passenger seat and settled in for the ride. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed a freckled nose, clear blue eyes and lip gloss as her only make up. She was, after all, on vacation. And she’d long since stopped trying to impress anyone in the business. She’d set aside three weeks to get herself up the coast and settled into her new suburban life. She had appointments with a realtor to look at houses and lots of catching up to do with family before she began her next project. The sooner she got this little detour out of the way the better.
    The 101 Freeway twisted along the Pacific but gave only a few, stingy glimpses of the ocean until she neared her destination, and then it was a spectacular show of rolling waves and foamy surf. She loved the water, was raised on it by a father who was enthusiastic about surfing, kayaking and pulling yellow fin from its depths. He worked his job around his passions, and as a physician, he made enough money to do that. Her mom, on the other hand, had a job that was her passion. She was a midwife who delivered babies in the location of her client’s request—within reason. She believed in compassion as the cure for all pain and exercised it regularly.
    Shae wondered again why Ethan Abrams had chosen her specifically when seeking help. He’d worked with a lot of talented writers, male and female, action and drama. So she kept coming back to the subject matter of her cable movie. It was an intimate and relentless ruin of a relationship, where husband and wife reacted rather than responded. The characters were controlled by their needs, driven by them to the point of destruction. It was easily