Page 81 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

Oh, magic definitely happened, just not in the way Teague thinks.

“Nobody in his right mind would blame you for letting things get a little too heated with Jenna. She’s considered one of the sexiest women in the world. It would take a blind man to keep lust and carnal desires in check while working with her. So don’t sweat it. It’s part of the job.”

Falling for my costar is part of the job?

“Maybe even a perk of the job.” He elbows me with a smirk. “But we’re done filming the show. We’ll fly home tomorrow, and after the wrap party, you don’t have to see Jenna again.” Except, tomorrow, I’m her date for her brother’s wedding, but Teague doesn’t need to know the details of my schedule. “And if Flixmart picks up season two, you’ll only be in a few scenes together. No big deal.”

I lift my brows, placating him. “You’re right.”

“On to the next project, my friend.” He slaps me on the back. “I’ll see you in LA at the wrap party.” He gives me a half-wave before exiting my trailer.

I don’t say goodbye because I’m still stuck on his lust and carnal desires comment from earlier. Teague makes me sound like a typical playboy, just in it for instant gratification.

Okay, yes. There was some lust. And a heck of a lot of desire. But—BUT—there was so much more to the kiss than that. There was a deepness I wasn’t anticipating (probably because it was supposed to be an on-screen kiss, not a real one). I felt connected to Jenna emotionally. I wanted her to feel cherished and special and beautiful. And in return, I wanted her acceptance and reassurance that despite everything in my past, I’m worthy of her respect and love.

What in the world am I even saying? I’ve turned into that guy. The guy I hate that says words like cherished and actually feels things.

I don’t do feelings.

My testosterone levels must be at an all-time low. At any minute, I could start crying over kittens, or lactating, or something else completely unlike me.

This has to stop.

I don’t even recognize myself anymore or the change happening inside my head and heart.

I drop to the ground, throwing out one hundred pushups—the manliest thing I can come up with on the spot. I also yell out a string of profanities while doing my pushups, just for an added macho effect.

What the heck is Jenna Lewis doing to me?

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

JENNA

Neither Cody nor I mentioned the kiss last night as we wrapped up filming The Promised Prince. We didn’t talk about it early this morning when we took a car to the airport, boarded the Flixmart jet, or during our six-hour flight from Calgary to Tampa to attend my brother’s wedding.

We didn’t avoid each other. We just moved on as if the whole thing didn’t happen.

And maybe it didn’t. Maybe for Cody, this is typical movie stuff. You share a mind-blowing kiss with your costar and then go home to your girlfriend. Except, today, I’m Cody’s girlfriend.

We fake being in love for the show. And we fake being in love for real life.

We’re like the movie Inception—two levels deep, a dream within a dream. And I’m starting to lose my grip on reality. I need a spinning top to help me differentiate between it all. I mean, it worked for Leo in the movie, so why not me?

In addition to losing my grip on reality, the walls around my heart are crumbling, and with my defenses down, I’m vulnerable to all of Cody’s charms.

Allll of them.

Namely his kiss.

And the confident way he held me in his arms as if he had no doubt in his mind that he’d deliver the best kiss of my life. And it was. It was the best kiss of my life—the difference maker.

Now I’m left wanting more.

I tossed and turned all night, replaying our kiss from different angles as if I were the director, focusing on every touch, caress, and brush of our lips—the controlled and the frenzied.

At midnight, I cranked up the AC.

At two a.m., I drank an entire glass of water.

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