Page 3 of Second Act
He ran his palm down the flat plane of his abdomen. “It’s my lucky sweater.”
“I thought you made your own luck.” It had been one of his favorite sayings when he set off for yet another audition.
“I was young and arrogant when I believed that. Now I understand how often fate intervenes.” He dropped onto the built-in sofa and stretched out his long legs, plucking at the fabric of his charcoal trousers. “They cut these things so tight I can barely move. And they expect me to run in them.”
Jessica perched on the edge of the sofa three feet away from him, wondering if they were going to stick to superficial topics. “Have you ever split a seam while filming?”
“Many times, but wardrobe just sews it up again.” He fixed his intense blue gaze on her. That focus had astonished her the first time she’d experienced it. She’d never before met a man who made her the entire center of his attention. He’d made her feel extraordinary for the first time in her life. He had trulyseenher.
“How are you, Jess?” He scanned her face. “You look beautiful. But tired.”
She squelched a desire to snort. Hugh was surrounded by gorgeous, perfectly dressed and made-up women all the time. Here she sat inoften-washed jeans, a long-sleeve gray T-shirt, and soggy boots. She was pretty sure her bun was a sloppy mess, too. “Beautiful, no. Tired, yes.”
Hugh shifted to lean closer to her, his face tight with displeasure. “Youarebeautiful.” He locked eyes with her for a long moment before he sat back. “What’s making you so tired?”
Irritation prickled through her. After years of ignoring her, he was suddenly concerned about her well-being? “Oh, I don’t know, maybe running a single-practice veterinary clinic here in South Harlem.” She grimaced. “It’s a constant balancing act.” Balancing the patients’ needs against their owners’ ability to pay; balancing her desire to help every animal brought through her door against the need to sleep; balancing the competence and compassion of her staff against the amount of money she could afford to compensate them. The one thing she had no balance between was her work life and her personal life. She had neither time nor energy for the latter.
Hugh’s expression showed profound understanding. She reminded herself that he was a very talented actor. “And you won’t turn away a single animal,” he said.
“How can I?” She asked herself that question almost daily as she stayed past regular office hours.
“You’re going to burn out,” he said. “Can’t you hire another vet to help you?”
“I had one for a year, but she wanted to pay off her school debt, so she went someplace that could offer her a higher salary.” Jessica shrugged. “Not that I blamed her, but it’s too frustrating and time-consuming to train someone, only to have them leave as soon as they have enough experience to get a better job.”
“I can imagine.” Hugh stared at something across the room for a few moments before speaking again. “I’m sorry we lost touch.”
Annoyance flared into anger. “Welost touch? I left half a dozen voice mails for you. You didn’t answer them.”
“I—” He dragged his hand over his mouth. “It was too soon.”
“And now it’s too late.” Jessica set the bottle on a side table and pushed off the couch. She didn’t want to get ensnared by Hugh’s dark magnetism again. “I should get going.”
Hugh stood, too, towering over her in the space that suddenly seemed small. “I behaved like a jerk.” Then he did the thing that used to disarm her every time. All the hard lines of his face went soft, and his voice dropped to a smooth rumble. “Let me start to make things right by treating you to a meal.”
He’s an actor.With an effort of pure will, she quashed the part of her that wanted to find out more about what had happened after she left or simply to bask in his still familiar, still tempting presence a little longer. “It’s been good to see you, Hugh. I wish you luck with your movie. This is the one it took Gavin Miller so long to write, isn’t it?”
“You’ve paid attention to Julian’s progress, then?” He looked surprised.
“Of course. It’s not hard when you’re on the cover of a magazine at least once a month.” She scanned the trailer to see where Margaret had put her coat. Spotting it draped over a kitchen stool, she edged around Hugh to grab it. “I really have to go.”
He took the coat from her hands to hold it for her. “Give me your cell phone number. I’d really like to take you out to dinner while I’m in New York.”
She gave him a tight smile. “Sure, I’ll break out my designer scrubs.” Their last big fight had been about what she wore on the red carpet.
“I deserved that,” he said, his voice projecting genuine remorse. He gently tugged a stray strand of hair out from under her coat collar, the whisper of his fingers against the nape of her neck sending pleasure rippling through her. “Please. You can wear rags, as far as I’m concerned.”
“We live in different worlds,” Jessica reminded him...and herself. “It’s better if we keep them from clashing.”
And safer. After eight years, he could still make her feel things she thought she’d put behind her.
He huffed out a breath of frustration. “You and I never agreed about that.”
The door of his trailer vibrated as someone rapped loudly on it. “Hugh, can I come in?” a melodious woman’s voice called.
Muttering something under his breath, he ran both hands through his hair in an uncharacteristic gesture of hesitation. Then he walked over to open the door.
“Hello, sweetheart.” The woman kissed him on the cheek. “It’s frigid in my trailer, so I thought I’d review my lines in the warmth of yours. You don’t mind, do you?”
