Page 88 of A Lucky Shot

Still, it was the first smart thing anyone in this room had said. Unlike Melanie, who seemed hellbent on turning a couple of leaked photos into the next great love story.

“We don’t need to make it formal and let the story play out?” Melanie mused, looking at the ceiling as her head wavered back and forth.

Josh felt his heart get sucked through the floor. Suddenly the thought of sending her on dates twenty-one through thirty, even with assholes like the architect, to get her out of this sounded like an easy out.

And then she’d be at the mercy of any number of shitheads. Just so he wouldn’t have to see her with Dawson. Not like thinking of her with other men was much better.

Cass had just said she needed a break, both from men and all the drama dating brought. However bad Tinder was, dating in the public eye was worse. At least a few commentators would say something shitty about her, that she’d probably see, and crush her already fragile self-esteem even further. He wiped his hand over his face.

“No.”

All the heads in the room turned to him.

“What do you mean, no?” Melanie blinked at him. “Studios pay good money for exposure like this.”

Melanie was right. Studios planted leaks like this all the time, hoping to get this kind of interest. And here they were, with fans clamouring for information and media buzzing before they had released a teaser trailer. The hype machine hadn’t started, and a few blurry photos had garnered more attention than anything he’d ever worked on. It was exactly what he wanted.

Should want.

What he wanted was Cass as far away from Dawson as possible.

Fuck. Josh prowled around the edges of the room. Melanie hated it when people told her no, especially when it got between her and money. The only time she didn’t hate it was when …

“Brynne works better with a closed set.” It wasn’t a lie. Melanie tripped over herself to make her favourite actor happy, and if this partial truth got Melanie on board, then so be it. “I made a commitment to her. No unsanctioned cameras on set.”

The fact that Cass and Dawson wouldn’t have an extra reason to get close, posing for pap photos, had nothing to do with it.

Melanie traded a glance with Bernie, who shrugged, face blank, though that could have been the Botox wiping away his emotion. She took a final look at the headlines and sighed. “Fine.”

Well, shit. That was easy. “Good, Cass doesn’t need that kind of scrutiny,” Josh said, then added, “or Brynne.”

Dawson nodded slowly his expression unreadable. “Right. Wouldn’t want to worry her about being trailed by photographers.”

And he didn’t need the distraction of wondering if she wanted that.

The last of the crew trickled past his open door and out of the building for the night. The artificially warm lights were thrown off by the wall sconces’ LED bulbs flickering along the hallway, and Josh repositioned his monitor to avoid the glare. He eyed the modified storyboards in grim determination.

“There you are!”

He jumped as Cass’s bright voice rang out behind him. She stood framed in his doorway, cheeks still rosy from the cold, mittened hands wrapped around a paper to-go cup.

It hadn’t been too hard to avoid her, since he was eyeballs deep behind the camera and she had her hands all over Dawson, again, fixing the lab coat that apparently grew wrinkles organically.

At least it wouldn’t end up on another gossip rag’s landing page.

He grit his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. “A bit late for caffeine, isn’t it?”

“Bedtime isn’t for hours, and don’t police my vices,” she said, toying with the lid. “Besides, it’s a mocha. Only one shot of espresso.”

He crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his biceps. She looked less than her usual bubbly self, and he doubted it was the lingering hangover from the previous day. Her wide hazel eyes fixed on him expectantly, and he flicked his gaze back to his screen.

The conversation in Melanie’s office had played through his mind all day. They weren’t doing anything wrong, really. Cass knew the same amount she did now as she did before, and if she checked her social media, she’d have the same information as everyone else. And it wasn’t like not knowing would hurt her.

Still, he’d want to know if people were making decisions about him behind his back.

Fuck.

“Do you have anything you want to tell me?” she asked finally.

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