Page 26 of Beyond the Spotlight Discreet Version
“Thank you for cleaning up,” I say, my voice making her jump.
She drops a plate, and it shatters on the floor.
“Dammit to hell,” she says in that sweet honey accent. She squats down to pick up the pieces and I rush over to help. “For such a big man, you sure are quiet on your feet.”
I take the broken plate from her and stand to toss it in the rubbish. When I’m done, she’s already back to putting the dishes in the dishwater.
“Your accent gets thicker when you’re scared,” I muse.
“It does not.”
“It does not,” I mimic in a Southern twang, which I’m brilliant at if I do say so myself.
She playfully pushes at my arm and I still at her touch. My cock twitches at her nearness, her sweet smell, and sexy, sultry voice. If I move at this moment, I’ll take her in my arms and show her exactly what her touch does to me.
“Yeah, well, for a British person, your accent isn’t very Britishy.”
“That’s not a word.”
“You know what I mean,” she says and tries to hide her smile.
I join her at the sink and hold out my hand for the dish she’s rinsing off.
“I moved from England when I was sixteen. Now I’m thirty. Most of the characters I play are American. My accent isn’t what it used to be.”
“Do you hate that?”
I shrug. “It’s just who I am now.”
“Is that why Adeline doesn’t have an accent? Because she’s always lived here?”
I nod. “She had one at first because of me. Then she started watching American cartoons and kids’ programming and she wanted to talk like her favorite characters. She’s also been in preschool since September, so any trace of an accent she once had is now gone.”
“You sound sad about that.”
“I’m...” my voice catches in my throat. “I was at first, but then I realized Adeline probably would have had an American accent even if my sister had lived. Annalee had no intention of moving back to England. So, Adeline would have grown up without a British accent.”
She hands me a wine glass. “At least she doesn’t have a country bumpkin accent like mine.”
“I like your country bumpkin accent. It’s cute.”
“Cute?” she says an octave higher, almost sounding offended. “Not sexy?”
Her tongue swipes over her plump bottom lip, which draws my attention to her mouth. It parts slightly, a perfect ‘o’ as she notices my response. Can she hear my heart beating this close? Does she realize how badly I want her at this moment?
I clear my throat. We set boundaries for a reason.
“My final table read is at nine tomorrow morning at Kaufman studios in Queens. Adeline usually wakes up around seven. Preschool starts at nine. I’ll make her breakfast before I leave at eight, but you might have to get her dressed. So I’ll need you awake before I leave.”
“Of course.”
“And I hired two bodyguards who will escort you and Addy—”
“Like suit and tie, secret service type bodyguards?”
I shake my head but can’t help smiling. “No, like dressed-in-regular-clothes-and-staying-back-so-not-to-seem-too-obvious bodyguards.”
She giggles, and it’s such a pure sound that I almost want to start rattling off jokes just to hear it again. I think I’m hilarious, but I’m British. My humor is rather dry. Not everyone gets it.
