Page 36 of Second Act
Pete shot her a sharp glance. “They’re pretty thorough, but is there something I should know?”
“No, they’ll all tell your HR people how brilliant my little brother is.” That much was true.
Pete looked as though he wanted to ask more, but he moved on to another topic. He was a pleasant companion: attentive, nice-looking, and easy to be with. Forty-eight hours ago, she might have been glowing in his company. But Hugh’s turquoise eyes and clever hands and lust-inducing body kept rising up between her and her current date.
She put down her empty glass. “This drink is hitting me hard after last night’s—I mean,Tuesday’s—all-nighter. You see, I can’t even remember what day of the week it is.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I don’t want to be rude and fall asleep on your shoulder, so maybe I should go home.”
“Nothing would make me happier than to have you dreaming on my shoulder,” he said, giving her a slow, intimate smile before he signaled the waitress.
“Er, thank you.” She wanted to respond to that smile, but instead it made her uncomfortable. Because she’d had sex with Hugh yesterday and couldn’t forget the heady sensations.
She just hoped the effects would fade with time.
Hugh poured himself a mug of coffee in the kitchen of his trailer. He needed the heat to ward off the chill of an outdoor night shoot in frigid Boston. Settling on the sofa, he cursed and shifted as the gun in the shoulder holster dug into his ribs. He’d worn enough of them that he should be more accustomed to their presence. Of course, his harness wasn’t meant for comfort. It was designed to fit tightly over the black turtleneck and emphasize his chest and shoulders for the cameras. Ashe plucked at the straps irritably, his gaze fell on his cell phone, lying on the coffee table.
Picking it up, he swiped to Jessica’s response to his text message:Yes. That’s all she’d said. One short word. That should tell him all he needed to know regarding her lack of interest about remaining in contact with him. She’d made it pretty clear the morning they’d parted, but he’d hoped she might have changed her mind.
Because when he wasn’t working, he couldn’t stop thinking about the hours they’d spent together.
He scoffed at himself over all the elaborate plans he’d made for yesterday, borrowing Gavin’s helicopter and mansion on the beach. Yes, he’d wanted to show her what resources he had at his fingertips now, even if they belonged to someone else. In some ways, not having to own what he needed was even more impressive. Why he thought Jess would care about any of that, he wasn’t sure. He’d just needed to prove something—to himself, not her, it seemed.
But then he’d seen her on that dog bed, and his past had risen up to shake him by the throat.
He couldn’t complain about the outcome. They had always been good in bed together, and he’d felt the old spark of attraction flare to life again almost from the moment he’d slammed into her in the alley. She must have felt the same magnetic pull between their bodies, but it shocked him a little that she’d given in to it. She wasn’t the sort to engage in sex for its own sake. With her it had meant there was something more going on. Which was why he hadn’t expected her to banish him from her life again when they said good-bye.
At the time, though, his attention had been only on the way every curve and texture of her body, every sound and scent of her, had fanned his desire higher. He knew where to touch her and she knew where to touch him...and when. It had been not comfortable—because that was far too bland a word for the explosion between them—but maybeeffortless, with no friction but the kind they required to climax. Their bodies melded together without thought.
His cock stirred at the memory. Not a good thing when he could be called back on set at any time. He rubbed a hand over his face to clear away the images of Jess under him and over him and cradled between his legs in the bathtub.
He took another sip of coffee to find it had cooled to an unpleasant lukewarm temperature. Walking to the kitchen, he dumped it down the drain and poured another steaming mug. He remained standing with his hip against the counter while he stared out the trailer window at the empty city sidewalk that could be anywhere in the world.
Maybe that’s why he couldn’t banish Jess from his mind. Shooting on multiple locations always left him feeling disoriented. The lines between Hugh Baker and Julian Best blurred as he spent more and more time in character. Jess offered an anchor to reality. Always had, even back in the old days.
Of course, then he’d gotten sucked into the world of Hollywood make-believe and wanted her to join him there, because it had cast its bedazzling spell over him. The truth was that he’d known on some level that he was selling out, and he took out his guilt over that on Jess.
Yeah, he’d been a real asshole, but he thought he needed a woman who would be an accessory to his glorious rise to stardom, someone who would charm the directors and the studio executives. Of course, Jessica could do that in her own inimitable way, but he wanted her to be like everyone else in Hollywood—glitzy, worldly, and, truth be told, always playing an angle.
He was relieved when someone banged on his door. All this introspection was depressing and something he’d learned to avoid. “It’s open,” he called.
Bryan’s long-suffering assistant, Timoney, came up the steps. “We’re done for the night, so you can go back to the hotel.”
“What about the duck boat scene in the harbor? Are we shooting it tomorrow night?” The weather was forecast to be even colder then, so he wasn’t enthusiastic about the postponement.
“The scene’s been scratched. Bryan doesn’t like shooting in Boston. Bad angles, bad weather, bad permits.” She shrugged at the artistic whims of her boss. “He’s decided to rewrite those scenes for New York. We’re headed back there tomorrow. I assume your assistant will arrange your transportation. And you’ll have at least the morning off, because the writers need time to rework the script.”
“Poor bastards. Bryan will have them up all night.” And then he’d have to learn the new script as quickly as possible. He just hoped they kept most of the same lines. Despite all that, his pulse quickened at the prospect of being back in the same city as Jessica.
“He’s already ordered in four urns of coffee for them,” Timoney said.
“Do I need to try to talk him out of this?” Hugh had sometimes used the leverage of his stardom to persuade Bryan out of hasty decisions that would cause major problems for the film.
“Nah, I think it’s for the best,” Timoney said. “No one liked that duck boat scene, anyway. It was just there because we couldn’t get permits to film on the bridge like in the book. We can probably get a bridge in New York.”
Hugh winced inwardly. That meant a whole new set of stunts, many of which he would do himself as a point of pride and authenticity. Despite his daily workouts with his trainer, at this point in the schedule, his body was beginning to feel the strain of being a super spy who had no fear of death or injury. “Then I will leave the writers to mainline coffee.”
The door swung open again, and Meryl glided up the steps, wearing a ski jacket over the ruined blue evening gown that was her costume for the night. “Oh, I guess you heard. Back to the Big Apple.”
“Good. I don’t have to notify you,” Timoney said, checking off something on her clipboard before she plodded back down the steps and closed the door.
