Page 10 of Heavy Shot

"No, I'm from Boston. I went to college up there, then moved down to New York for work."

Harvard, he thought. Then probably writing for late night, and taking the pipeline into sitcoms. That was the career path. He said, "I lived in Greenwich when I first moved to the States.Loved it there."

Rhiannon nodded appreciatively. "I spent a lot of time there. It's a great place." She put the bottle in the rack on the counter and picked up a small black bag. "Are you all set?"

Kline smiled and offered his arm, "Absolutely."

He whisked her off in his Mercedes. She was responding to his charm just like he hoped she would. Industry-not-actress meant she would be savvy enough to understand how his career either robbed him of, or blessed him with free time, but removed enough that he could still turn on Kline Scott for her and watch the fireworks light up behind her eyes. She was bewitched, bemused, and blushing by the time they’d gotten past the first traffic signal. He had her number all right, and prospects for his evening were looking good, especially considering the way she shivered when he brushed his knuckles up her bare side arm.

The valet at Blue, LA’s latest hot spot, ushered them to a private entrance where a host greeted them and whisked them off to the VIP room.She was appropriately impressed. Industry-not-actress meant she had heard of these places, but wasn’t high enough up the food chain to actually be allowed in, or recognizable enough to enjoy the star treatment. It was a lazy way to date, like regifting PR he’d received to family and friends for Christmas and birthdays, but it worked. His mother had loved the Hermes bag he’d gotten at the last BAFTAs. What was he going to do with a bag?

Now, he focused on the woman by his side. She was a perfect height for whispering in her ear, sharing bits and bobs of information about other actors in the room, making her laugh. When he put his arm around her waist, his hand fit nicely on the luscious curve of her hip. Catching a glimpse of their reflections in a mirror, he thought they would look great on a red carpet together. This could work, he thought. And maybe she didn’t have to know.

Acting with a partner was like dancing. If you were any good at leading, you could make a novice look great. And Kline was nothing if not great at leading. Besides, she was funny. He liked that.

They mingled with other VIPs, had drinks, then he spun her out on the dance floor like they were the only couple in the place, where he stole kisses until she was just giving them to him. Then, her eyes shining like she was getting drunk on his attention alone, Rhiannon reluctantly excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and Kline escorted her off the floor then went to the bar to refresh their drinks.

He had just cleared the bar when two dancers wobbled off the floor into his path, forcing him to step back into another body. When he spun around to survey his damage he was jostled again and fully sloshed one of the drinks he held onto the dress of the woman in front of him. She groaned and threw up her hands, starting to say something, then seemed to realize who he was, and then he realized who she was, and both started talking at the same time. Him, calling for napkins, her saying, "I'm fine. I’m fine. Just wet. Don't worry about it."

Kline stared and stammered, then apologized again before smiling crookedly and teasing adolescently, "I can still get you wet after all these years." Oh god. He hadn’t. He cringed as the words left his mouth.

Jill blinked at him, those blue eyes cool and narrowed. She tilted her head and made a sound that might have been a laugh. "But now it takes you two drinks to do it. You've obviously lost your touch."

"I'm just rusty. Give me a little more time and I'll have you eating out of my hand." He tried a rakish grin, realizing how utterly boorish he sounded, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Been there. Done that," Jill said lightly. He was radiating nerves instead of charm and he struggled to get a grip on himself, but she hadn’t walked away.

He fixed his face and let his eyes soften as he stepped forward, "Listen, Jill, can we talk sometime? Seeing you yesterday-- It brought back all sorts of things. I'd really love to see you. Spend some time catching up. Could we do that?"

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly considering. He pressed, using his nerves as leverage, switching gears from horn dog to puppy dog, “Please? I have so much to say, but none of it is fit for–this.” He paused and waved his drink-filled hands around to indicate the club, sloshing more.

“I’m in town for a while,” she admitted. “I might be convinced to listen to you apologize over brunch. With mimosas. Lots of mimosas.”

He smiled, realizing she was leaning into her own nerves and ad-libbing into the scene he’d set. He wasn’t talking to Jilly any more than she was talking to Scott Kline. She was in character as Jill Parker, Broadway star, having a chance encounter with her former lover, the movie star Kline Scott. “So, brunch? Sunday?”

Suddenly she laughed, dropping out of the role. “Are you trying to make a date with me while you’re on a date? Are you actually doing that?”

And he was a flustered kid again. “Maybe? Can you blame me?”

Her laugh was magical, and she shook her head letting the mirth fade into the music pumping out of the speakers. “Call me later and ask properly. Then we’ll see.”

“When I call you later,” he let his voice drop so that she had to lean in to hear him, “what will I see?”

Before she could answer, a proprietary arm linked through his as Rhiannon appeared beside him. “Miss me?” she asked, some salt in her voice before fixing her competition with a dark smile. “I’m Rhi–Oh! Jill?”

“Rhiannon? Oh my goodness!” Jill took a full step backwards, away from the pair.

“What are you doing in LA? I thought you were allergic to sunlight and scene.”

Jill’s smile narrowed somewhat as she read the situation. “I am. Absolutely. Which is why I’m out at night and also why I was leaving. My god, this place is awful. Are you out here full-time now?”

“I am. I’ve been out here a little over a year.”

“You’re kidding,” Jill said. “What are you doing?”

“Show runner for a multi-cam sitcom.”

“Oh, fab! I had no idea!”

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