Page 56 of Second Act
Hugh halted at a spot where two corridors intersected, glancing right and left. “It’s a damned rabbit warren down here.”
“Go right. I remember that weird pipe hanging down.”
Hugh made the turn down the hallway. “He exaggerated. I was impressed with his performance in a play in LA and hooked him upwith a hungry junior agent. When this part came up, I put in a good word for him with the director. Nothing heroic.”
“Maybe not heroic, but generous.”
“If I can’t use my influence to help talent find its audience, what’s the point?”
“Some people might consider Dorian competition.”
Hugh kept walking. “If he’s better than I am, he deserves the part.” His tone turned cynical. “I don’t worry much about talented actors. It’s the famous ones who could take the plum roles away from me.”
“No one’s more famous than you are.”
“The public is fickle.” By some miracle, they had arrived at the elevator, and Hugh pushed the call button. “I’m not getting younger, whereas Julian Best never ages.”
“They wouldn’t dare replace you as Julian!”
“They can and they will, as soon as I cross whatever invisible line the producers decide is too old to appeal to the broadest demographic.”
The elevator door glided open, and they squeezed into the small space together. Hugh slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side.
“Does that bother you?” Jessica asked, trying not to be sidetracked by the feel of his body pressed to hers.
“Sometimes. And other times I almost wish they would find another Julian. Thank God Gavin allows Julian to grow and change in his books or I might die of boredom.”
“Is that why you’ve never done Broadway? Because you would play the same role night after night?”
The elevator doors opened, and he moved them forward just enough to step out into the hallway. “My agent tells me I can’t afford to do Broadway.”
“You would have been terrific as Finn in this play,” she said as they walked toward the door.
“Julian always takes precedence.” His voice held the tiniest edge of regret. Pulling out his fancy phone, he tapped at the screen and waited for a returning ping. “The sedan is right out front.” He took her hand. “Ready to make a run for it?”
Jessica felt like the heroine in one of Hugh’s movies as he threw open the door and pulled her along with him at a jog. Despite the unassuming dark sedan, two photographers lay in wait, shouting as they ran beside Jessica and Hugh, cameras flashing. Hugh ignored them, heading straight for the car without breaking stride.
The chauffeur had the back door open, so Hugh helped Jessica scoot onto the back seat before joining her. The door slammed shut, but the photographers kept shooting through the window until the driver pulled away from the curb.
“Wow! That was weird.” Jessica blinked several times to clear the flash from her eyes.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” Hugh’s voice was tight with fury. “Those were bottom feeders. The real pros don’t bother me without my permission, because they know they’ll get more access that way.”
“You can’t control what other people do,” she said.
“You’d be surprised what you can control.” He sounded hard and jaded, but then his voice shifted to a purring rumble. “Can I tempt you back to the hotel room?”
“Twice wasn’t enough?” she said, even as flickers of heat licked along her nerves.
He lifted her hair to kiss the side of her neck so his breath grazed her ear when he spoke. “Never enough when it comes to you.”
Arousal shuddered through her. Shaking her head was the hardest thing she’d ever done. “I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
To her surprise, he kissed her again but leaned back against the seat. “As do I.” He gave the driver Jessica’s address.
“And you have to worry about how you look for the cameras.” No one cared if she had bags under her eyes, but for Hugh it was a different story.
“Meryl assures me that exhaustion makes Julian look all the more authentic.” He gave her a whimsical smile.
