Just a Kiss: The Single Girls Wine Club (A Wine Country Romance #1) (16 page)

“Stop right here.” A guy holding a clipboard, wearing a backward red baseball cap stopped her. His rough voice didn’t match his casual look.

“I’m on the guest list for the movie
Love Lasts
. Sarah Dupont?” she said.

“Not here.”

“I hope it’s there, somewhere.” She dug through her purse for an ID. Clusters of people shuffled around her, trying to peek at the stars. Large trailers, catering trucks and generators took up most of the room in the small parking lot.

“Let me see your ID,” the clipboard guy briskly demanded.

“Jamie Santino is expecting me,” she explained, handing over her drivers license with sweat forming on her neck. She shifted and waited for the guy to go through the list again.

“Maybe you could use your walkie-talkie. He really is waiting for me. He said I’d be on the list.”

“You’re on the visitor list, not the guest list.”

Was he
trying
to be difficult?

He handed her the ID and moved the barricade a few inches for her to pass.

She didn’t bother asking for directions and headed into the turmoil of the crowded parking lot. For some reason, she thought he’d be easy to find, that it would just be Jamie, Nikki, the director, and maybe a few cameras. She didn’t expect such a massive production. The Marina Green parking lot looked like a mini city.

“You looking for something?” a blonde woman in a white T-shirt and jeans asked, without stopping.

“Jamie Santino,” Sarah called out, hurrying to keep up with the woman.

She pointed to a group of trailers without breaking her pace and took off before Sarah could say thanks.

Sarah didn’t rush to find him. The closer she got to the trailer area, the slower she moved, unsure of what she’d be walking into. She lingered by a table laden with everything she shouldn’t eat but selected a chocolate brownie for health reasons. She needed chocolate to calm her nerves and nibbled as she strode away from the table. Would she walk right into a naked love scene? Was that even possible? She wandered through the chaos and took another chomp for fortification.

Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going and were in a rush to get there. She scanned past the trailers parked side by side and her gaze lingered on a small cluster of people. Jamie stood in the middle of the group with Simon Francis, pointing at his script.

He flung his hand in a wave and hustled around the crowd toward her. She almost didn’t recognize him. He had his hair slicked back, wore a long gray and white striped scarf and makeup.

When they reached each other, she hesitated for a moment, not quite sure what to make of actor Jamie with eyeliner, mascara, and pinkish lips. It couldn’t be more obvious to Sarah that she was now a guest in Jamie’s world, and light years away from her cafe.

“You made it.” Out of breath, he pecked her on the cheek. “Super busy now. We’re finally making progress.” Jamie yelled over his shoulder to the director, “Five minutes. Okay?” He clutched Sarah’s hand. “Let’s go to my trailer so I can get the hotel key and I haven’t kissed you properly yet.”

On the way to the trailer without saying a word to her, he stopped. Jamie reached for her face with both hands, cradled her cheeks in his palms, pulled her lips to his, and devoured her mouth. He drew her in close and held tight. She wanted to stay there.

He didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He felt, smelled and tasted exactly like her Jamie should and she relaxed. The ruckus of the set disappeared. He kissed her again slowly, and no one else existed.
Take that Nikki Lean.
Draping an arm over her shoulders, he led the way to his RV. Jamie opened the door and the cold air from inside the trailer blew over her.

“Is that you darling, are we ready? Is it time?” Sarah recognized the voice deep within the trailer instantly. The sultry sound of Nikki punctured her like a sharp nail.

“No,” Jamie said. “I’m still at it. Our scene might be up in thirty. C’mon in, butter biscuit.” He reached for Sarah’s hand. “Watch your step up.”

“How nice, Sarah is here,” Nikki said in a snarky, stuck-up tone.

“Hello,” Sarah said into the dark space.

The television was on low, and Sarah adjusted her eyes to the dim light. Nikki was sprawled out on the small built-in banquet couch. The huge pink rollers in her hair didn’t take away from the skimpy red lace teddy hugging her body like a vice. Nikki’s makeup artist must’ve worked overtime on her lips. They had a life of their own, all wet and puckered. They looked ready to pounce on Jamie during love scenes. Sarah’s heart stopped momentarily.

Jamie reached into a small closet and dug through the pockets of his pants on a hanger.

“Got it!” He waved the key card. “Your name is on the reservation and you have your very own key to our
suite
.” He dangled it in front of her, then placed it in the palm of her hand and closed her fingers around it. “Ready?” He grasped her hand and led her back into the bright sunlight.

When they arrived back at the location, Jamie said, “I’m sorry this has to be so short, but it’s out of my hands. I can’t keep these guys waiting.”

“I understand. I get it. You’re working.” Sarah snuck a peek at the crew.

“Are you going to be okay?” Jamie asked. “You know how to get to the Fairmont from here?”

“Of course I do. I used to live here, remember?”

He pulled her to his chest for a rocking hug. “I just don’t want you to get lost or anything…”

“I won’t get lost.” Sarah broke away and rubbed his arms. “Just do your thing and know I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll see you at seven. Be ready,” he said with a wink. Jamie gave her one more kiss before dashing back to Simon Francis and the group.

The moment Sarah pulled into the historic Fairmont Hotel’s circular driveway, she regretted not dressing up, at least a little. Her strategy of keeping the Jamie tryst relaxed and casual misfired in the fashion department, but at least she’d made it there. She’d driven into the city, met Jamie on the set, and found her way to the Fairmont without chickening out.

If she had taken any time to reconsider or fiddle around with finding the perfect outfit, it would’ve given her time to ponder the various what-ifs and possibly back out. She made a major commitment agreeing to meet him here. Jamie had cautioned her this morning, that the press would notice her if they saw her on the set with him and would most likely follow her to the hotel.

She didn’t see anyone near her with a camera as she gave her car keys to the attendant. A bellman picked up her overnight bag and ushered her into the lobby. As Jamie promised, her name was in the system, and the checkin went smoothly.

Within a few minutes, she stood peering through the floor to ceiling windows of the suite at Grace Cathedral and the old Flood Mansion. It gave her a feeling of being in a cocoon eighteen floors above the city.

After an hour, Sarah pulled herself out of the bathtub and away from her Jamie-in-the-bubbles-between-her-legs fantasy just after six. After lathering herself in delicious smelling lotion and slipping into a thick hotel bathrobe, she sashayed into the suite. It wasn’t long before she slinked her way to a welcome basket full of treats and tucked into a box of chocolates.

Feeling decadent and naughty, she texted Jamie at six forty, “Ready and waiting.” She snapped a picture of her upper thigh and sent that too.

Watching the twinkling lights of San Francisco, she waited. It took thirty seconds for her phone to vibrate. She read the text and put the phone down on the coffee table.

She picked it up and read it again.

“Change of plans, working late with Nikki.”

Her heart hit the carpet and bounced back.

Another text came immediately. “I’ll be with her all night.”

Sarah blinked and looked at the screen the third time. After a moment, she found her purse, tossed her phone into it and carried it to the bathroom. There, with the steam from her bath still on the mirror, she shoved her belongings into the travel case she’d left on the counter. She went to the closet, got dressed, grabbed her bags and left the room. Navigating through the hotel lobby without hesitation, she flung her weight against the shiny revolving doors to get out into the misty San Francisco air.

Digging through her purse for the valet receipt, the sound of the flapping flags of the Fairmont made her pause. She sat on the corner of a large brick planter and reread Jamie’s texts. She had to be missing something in the messages.

So what, if he worked all night… That probably happens all the time with actors. Even though she was disappointed she wouldn’t be seeing him soon, why should she leave? After all, it didn’t matter to her if he ended work at three or four or whenever. She already had the following day covered, thanks to Manny. She couldn’t think of any other place she’d rather be.

She held her head up and strutted back through the doors into the warmth of the lobby. Proud of herself that she didn’t rush to the worst possible conclusion and panic. She never used to be that way. Before Robert's infidelity, she’d been reasonably confident.

On a mission, she marched up the ornate staircase to the elevator and punched her floor number. Alone in the dim elevator and lulled by the soft jazz piping in, she couldn’t wait to get back into the robe she'd flung off minutes ago. Maybe she’d order room service and some wine. Jamie would be in her arms in a matter of hours, and that wasn’t very long for someone she’d waited a lifetime for.

When the elevator doors opened to the eighteenth floor and she stepped out, she thought she recognized his voice. Standing perfectly still just to be sure, she heard it again. The loud and clear laugh belonged to Jamie, no doubt about it. Her heart jumped at the sound, and she rushed to find him. How stupid she’d been to almost leave. She must’ve just missed him in the elevator.

Passing a large console table and scurrying down the hall, she turned right, but he wasn’t there. His voice rang out again, and her heart rallied. She moved to the central hallway, took the next right turn and saw Jamie down the opposite end of the aisle with his back to her.

His sandy hair shook when he let out more uproarious laughter. He stood close behind Nikki, and she giggled while trying to unlock the door. Jamie reached around her, took the key card, and opened the door. They laughed harder and walked into the room together—Nikki’s room.

They didn’t see Sarah, standing frozen in time and unable to move. Her feet felt like fifty pound weights stuck in a tar pit of silk and wool carpeting. She stared at the closed door and shook so badly that when she got back into the elevator, she couldn’t figure out which button to push to get back to the lobby.

Where was the lobby?
Which one of the blurred, blinking, round, shiny black and gold buttons do I press to get out of here? Does LL stand for lobby? Or is it
mezzanine, or l
ounge? What the hell is it? What the hell am I doing here?

When the doors opened to the lounge floor, she barely had time to realize she’d pushed the wrong button. A boisterous group of men in business suits holding laptops and briefcases jammed into the elevator. The men flooded the cramped space smelling of Old Spice, body odor, and whiskey. They didn’t give her any notice and herded her to the back of the elevator. At least she’d have the wall to lean on. She needed something to hold her up. She silently accompanied them up, up, up to floor seventeen. Her eyes got teary.

“Ha! Yeah, Joe, tomorrow. Tomorrow will be your day,” a heavyset man said to a guy with a yellow tie.

“You’ll get yours!” the man getting off the elevator shouted back.

The doors closed.
Ping, ping, ping
the elevator sounded when they reached the twenty-third floor. The conversation became foggy and her chin trembled as the doors opened again.

“Good meeting. Now go get some rest,” the apparent leader of the group said to a man wearing a cheap, shiny, green suit.

Cheap-suit man shouted back to the remaining men in the elevator, “We’ll kill it tomorrow.”

The doors whisked shut. Sarah felt invisible as the compartment descended. How could those men chit chat so effortlessly, didn’t they know her world had just ended? The conversation sounded like a muddled chirp to her thudding ears. Couldn’t they see that she was dying inside? By the time she got back to the lobby, she had the valet ticket in hand. She gave it to the attendant and her car arrived in moments.

“Will you be coming back this evening miss?” the valet asked holding the door open for her.

“No,” she said, getting behind the wheel. She didn’t turn the radio on and kept her phone off. She didn’t need to listen to any more excuses from Jamie and didn’t want to see any texts. She just wanted to go.

Her head thudded every time her heart pumped while waiting for the blurry red traffic light to turn green.

It didn’t feel like driving at all. The car seemed to know where to go. She glided down the Waldo Grade and over Sausalito with tears so torrential she had to pull over at the Tiburon-Mill Valley exit. Moving off the road onto the gravel median, she parked. Her head pounded like she’d been whacked in the skull by a shovel.