Page 15 of The Singapore Stunt

My pulse kicks up. She is not about to…

“We had a bit of time yesterday when we got in, and Mattias showed me this one move.” She takes a half step in my direction. “Can we show him…”

It’s not really a question. I decipher the undertone. Let’s give him a crumb and get him out of our hair. I fight back a chuckle.

“You sure? It’s taken members from the stunt studio days to master the move.” I’m not an actor, but I lay it on thick with the confidence that I doubt Wesley will notice the difference.

She slips her hand into mine, and a charge shoots through my entire body. She pulls me onto the mat and whispers just for my ears. “Muscle memory.”

When Wesley follows us onto the mat, she raises a hand, and they stop. What must it be like to live in her world with that much power? “Stay back. Watch from over there. That’s where the director’s station will be the day of the shoot.” I don’t have to turn to know he’s compliant.

We reach the center of the mat, and she turns to face me with a shit-eating grin on her face. She’s enjoying this way too much. Her hand reaches up to the wrap holding her ponytail, and she says words meant only for my ears. “Should I take my hair out like the character will have in the filming or keep it in the ponytail?” She nibbles on her lower lip, which tells me she knows the right answer. Her schoolgirl giggle almost makes me forget what move we’re meant to do.

“You sure you’re up to this?” I check in to offer her an out.

She separates her feet and prepares her stance. “I’m good. After our dinner, I couldn’t sleep,” she shares, and I nod. I’m sure she is still adjusting to the time difference, checking on her social media, and probably doing Zoom interviews. Me? I couldn’t sleep thinking about kissing her. But I can’t tell her that, so I nod. “I practiced this fight sequence to keep from doing something stupid.”

I scoff. “Been there. What are we talking? Wine? Beer?”

She shakes her head. “Stupider.”

“The hard stuff?”

She lays a hand on my chest, her hand forming a tiny fist. “Fighting an urge to do this to your bedroom door.” Her fist taps three times on my chest, and my hand wraps around it, pressing it to my chest.

“I…” I start, not sure what I’m going to say.

“Please tell me that is not it!” Wesley cuts us off, and I stop. I release her hand reluctantly. When she is in front of me like this, whispering to me, I couldn’t give a flying freak about the rest of the world.

“No,” Kimberly shouts, her gaze still on me. “It’s a warm-up we do.” She gives Wesley her back and sticks her tongue out at me like a five-year-old. She taps my chest in a knock again.

I find the strength to respond. “You can knock all night. I’m not letting you.”

“For now,” she whisper warns. Before I can respond, she shouts, “Action!”

She throws her punch. I block it at her wrist. Her balance is perfect, and with an audience, I don’t pat my chest to give her a target. I move like my character will on the day of filming. She places her kick center chest. I stumble back, and she leaps two feet in the air and follows through with the final punch in the sequence. I leap and spin, landing on the mat with a loud thud. I bury the smile on my face in the mat. She’s mastered the move in less than a day. A combination that proves she’s an incredible student, knows how to put a jackass in his place and win my respect all at the same time. It’s only day two.

“Oh, my god. Sheer perfection.” Wesley claps from the side. I roll over, and Kimberly is in front of me, her hand extended to help me up.

If we were alone, I’d pull her down to the mat with me, but we have guests. I slip my hand into hers and rise to my feet. She pulls me into a side hug. We stand like that, center mat, and listen to Wesley ramble about nothing.

She’s in no hurry to release me, and her touch is a treat I allow myself to indulge in for the moment. I let myself enjoy this moment because I already know I’m not going to get a second of sleep the rest of the time she is in Singapore. If she’s had the thought of knocking on my door in the middle of the night, I’m going to have to wait up and listen for it.

Chapter Eleven

Kimberly

He should be the last person I’m talking to about this, but he’s the only one who will understand.

I’m back in my room after a full morning of practice sessions and lunch with Mattias at a different hawker market. Another delicious one-on-one meal where the most tantalizing thing in front of me wasn’t on the menu.

I stare at the screen on my laptop, a desperate need to see his face on a large screen where I can read his every facial cue. I’m on a Zoom call with Trace Edwards.

Trace and I have a long history. He was the biggest name in Hollywood for a decade, with an unprecedented string of blockbusters that crossed genres. I co-starred with him on my breakout and his first romance movie, Forever.

“I understand the caution.” Trace delivers the statement with empathy. He knows my history because we lived it together. For over a year and a half, we shared a fake romance. Shared on social media, spread through a well-coordinated studio-endorsed campaign, we were the number one trending couple in the world.

The arrangement worked for me. I was a Hollywood nobody. Being linked to Trace lifted my Q rating to the stratosphere. It also worked for Trace. He had his own history and reasons for not seeking an actual relationship. We were two of the top actors in the world, and we were damn good at selling romance. The world couldn’t get enough of us.

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