Overnight Sensation (19 page)

“Cut! Print it.”

Finn’s words snapped Ivy out of her dreamlike state. She pushed herself away from Eric and stood by the side of the bed for a moment, scarcely able to believe they wouldn’t have to redo the scene. She knew from experience how rare it was to capture a scene on the first take.

Finn strode onto the set, and although he didn’t smile, Ivy could see the approval in his eyes. “Good job. Great chemistry. Okay, let’s go right into the next scene, where you make love. It’s less than a minute of actual film time, so make it count. Ivy, go see makeup and get rid of the clothes.” He turned to the rest of the film crew. “We resume shooting in fifteen minutes, folks.”

They dispersed rapidly, having learned through experience to use their breaks when they had a chance. Ivy made her way to her dressing room, a small partitioned area at the rear of the converted warehouse. Based on how many times they’d had to shoot the love scene the last time, the crew obviously thought it might be a while before they had another break. She knew differently.

In her dressing room, she quickly shed the blouse and khaki pants, then donned the beige thong. Carla swiftly mussed her hair and smudged some color on her lips and cheekbones, making it appear as though she’d been thoroughly kissed.

“Here,” she said, holding out a glass of juice with a straw sticking out the top. “Have something to drink now, while you have the chance.”

“Thanks. Do you have any mints?” Ivy waggled her eyebrows at the other woman. “Big kiss scene coming up.”

Carla grinned as she dropped several mints into Ivy’s palm. “How many takes are you going for this time?”

Ivy popped the mints into her mouth and gave the other woman a tolerant look. “Hopefully, just one.”

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you went for twenty. Eric Terrell is so hot I’d want to kiss him for hours.” She sighed dramatically. “Some women have all the luck. Speaking of which…” She raised an eyebrow at Ivy. “Anything you want to share with me?”

Ivy frowned. “Like what?”

“Like the rumors I heard that you and Mr. Military Badass were caught making out in the hallway the other night—that’s what.”

Heat flooded Ivy’s face. “Oh, that.” She shrugged in what she hoped was a careless manner. “I ran into him at the pool and he walked me back to my room. We exchanged a kiss. No big deal.”

Carla gave her a knowing look. “Yeah, right.” She caught Ivy’s chin in her hand and tipped her face up to the light, presumably to check her makeup, but there was no mistaking the genuine concern in her eyes. “Just be careful.”

Twisting her face from Carla’s hand, Ivy stared at her. “What do you mean?”

Carla shifted her attention to putting the array of cosmetics back in order. Her red curls bounced as she shook her head. “I’m just saying that sometimes staying on location, especially in a gorgeous place like this, has a way of distorting reality, you know? Makes you think you can live this kind of lifestyle forever.” She shook her head. “But eventually, we all have to return to our real lives and sometimes that lifestyle just can’t come with us.”

Ivy stood, tightening the sash on her robe. She shot Carla a tolerant smile. “Thanks, but I’ve been doing this for a while, so you don’t have to worry about me. I do know the difference between reality and make-believe.”

Carla backed down. “If you say so.”

An assistant stuck her head into the dressing room. “Five minutes,” she announced, holding up her fingers.

Ivy nodded. “Thanks.” She faced Carla. “Do I look okay?”

“Trust me, sweetie, you look stunning.”

Ivy drew in a deep breath. “Okay, then. Wish me luck!”

“Yeah, right,” grumbled the other woman, “like you don’t already have more than your share of it. But, sure, break a leg.”

As Ivy made her way back to the set, she tried not to think about whom she’d be kissing. It wouldn’t be Eric Terrell, she told herself. It would be Garrett. She’d close her eyes and pretend it was Garrett. She knew firsthand what it was like to be in his arms, and she owed it to Finn to reveal just how amazing and beautiful the experience had been.

When she arrived on the set, she scanned the assembled crew swiftly, but Garrett still wasn’t there. Part of her was relieved. The mere thought of him watching her make love to another man, while pretending it was him, made her insides turn to Jell-O. She wouldn’t be able to do it when he was present.

Finn marched over to her, rapidly assessing her makeup. “Helena, good job on the last take. Now I want you to crank up the heat once you’re in bed with Garrett, okay? I want this footage to leave scorch marks on the film, got it?”

Ivy nodded. “Got it.”

Eric was already in position on the narrow bed. Tamping down her feelings of modesty, Ivy slid out of the robe and handed it to an assistant, before slipping beneath the covers next to Eric. His skin was warm, and he smelled faintly of licorice.

She lay back on the pillows and looked into his blue eyes, surprised to find him watching her. “What?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t know. You seem different today. More relaxed, like you might not actually hate doing this.”

Ivy couldn’t help smiling. “Is that what you think? Well, let’s just say I took Finn’s recommendation and found my inspiration. Besides, half the women in the world would love to be me right now, so why not make the most of it?”

Eric let out a bark of surprised laughter. “Okay. Right. Well, let’s show them how it’s done.”

He leaned in toward her, and Ivy forestalled him with a hand on his chest. “Within the parameters of the script, big guy.”

He gave her a dramatically crestfallen expression. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do.”

“Quiet on the set!” shouted Franz.

“Here we go,” Eric murmured.

Ivy closed her eyes, conjuring up an image of a chiseled face with light-hazel eyes and slashing black eyebrows, knowing this might be the most difficult performance of her life.

“CUT!”

Ivy opened her eyes to find Eric Terrell staring down at her with something like astonishment in his eyes. She was still pressed against him, her arms wound around his neck. He braced himself on his elbows over her, and twin patches of color rode high on his cheekbones. His breathing was uneven.

“Holy shit,” he finally croaked.

They’d done it. They’d managed to film the love scene in just two takes. Ivy couldn’t quite believe it. Withdrawing her arms from where they were wound around Eric’s neck, she nudged him and he complied by flopping back on the bed beside her.

Ivy pulled the sheet tighter around her body and glanced over at the crew, but the lights blinded her so that she couldn’t see beyond the edge of the set itself. She was acutely conscious, though, of the overwhelming silence that greeted Finn’s command to cut.

“Was that okay?” she at last was able to ask, shielding her eyes against the overhead glare.

“Print it,” Finn boomed with a chortle.

Somebody off set began to clap. Another person joined in, and within seconds, Ivy and Eric were treated to a round of applause from the crew and cast members.

Finn stepped onto the set and approached the bed, carrying Ivy’s robe in his hands. This time, there was no denying the wide grin that split his features.

“Well done,” he said, handing her the garment. “That last take was—well, it was unbelievable. In a good way. So good, in fact, that it seemed like an intrusion to yell ‘Cut.’”

Ivy blushed. She had really gotten into character, convincing both her mind and body that Garrett was the one kissing her, stroking her. Garrett was the one whispering impassioned endearments against her skin. She had to give Finn credit, too. He’d remained almost entirely silent during the shoot, refraining from yelling instructions about how to move or where they should put their hands, instead letting them act out the scene on instinct.

It had worked.

Even now, her body thrummed with sexual need and frustration, as she’d responded with abandon to Eric’s—Garrett’s—touch.

“That was all I had scheduled for you today,” Finn said. “I didn’t think you’d nail the scene so quickly.” He grinned again, shaking his head in amazement. “I haven’t seen chemistry like this since Russell Crowe and Meg Ryan made Proof of Life. ”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out,” muttered Eric. “Their love scenes landed on the cutting-room floor because they were too realistic.”

Finn laughed. “Believe me, yours are realistic. But we’ll do some tasteful editing so the audience doesn’t feel like they’re sharing your breathing space.” He looked directly at Ivy. “Trust me when I say this love scene will make you an overnight sensation.”

Behind him, the lighting crew began shutting down the equipment, and when the overhead lights finally blinked off, Ivy could see beyond the perimeter of the set to the people who worked behind the scenes.

She caught her breath.

Was that Garrett standing with the film crew? With her eyes still adjusting to the abrupt change in light, it was difficult to tell for sure, but she thought she’d recognize that stance anywhere. Right now, he leaned against a door frame, arms crossed over his chest, and unless she was mistaken, he was gazing at her.

“Excuse me, please,” she murmured to Eric and Finn, and got up, belting her robe securely as she began walking toward Garrett. He was mostly in the shadows, but she’d know those shoulders and lean hips anywhere. He didn’t move as she approached, and not until she stood in front of him did she see the expression in his eyes.

She shivered.

A muscle flexed in his lean jaw and his eyes held a ravenous gleam. Had he seen the entire shoot? How did he feel about watching her get hot and heavy with Eric Terrell?

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he growled. “Get dressed and let’s go.”

“Where?” She couldn’t suppress the thrum of anticipation his words caused.

“Anywhere.”

“Okay.” She sensed his impatience. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait.”

But as Ivy hurried to the dressing room, she was aware that her heart was beating faster and her legs felt a little wobbly. She thought she understood now why the film was called Eye of the Hunter—the look in Garrett’s eyes had been completely predatory.

GARRETT WATCHED IVY walk away, her bare feet padding on the ancient wooden floors of the warehouse-turned-film-set. She stopped briefly when Franz Keller, the assistant director, intercepted her to hand her a slip of paper. Her call sheet for the following day, Garrett guessed. She and Franz spoke briefly, then Franz glanced in his direction with a knowing expression. He said something to Ivy that made her stiffen, before she crumpled the paper in her hand and stalked away.

Garrett scowled at the other man. From the smugness on Keller’s face, Garrett had a good idea of what the man had said. He wanted to follow her into the dressing room and demand she tell him Franz’s words. Then he’d take care of it.

He groaned and raked a hand through his hair, knowing he had to get a grip on himself. Anyone who looked at him right now would see the truth about his feelings for Ivy, and he’d made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t put her in this position. If she wanted to go public about the two of them, that was fine with him. But if she wanted to keep their affair secret, he wouldn’t do anything to compromise that.

He’d caught the pleasure in her eyes when she’d first spotted him, then the alarm that had flared in their chocolate depths when he’d told her to get dressed. But she’d agreed to go with him. That was the important thing.

The shoot had gone so well he’d needed all his self-restraint not to stride onto the set and drag Ivy out of the bed and out of Terrell’s arms. He still couldn’t believe the difference between her first attempt at that scene and what he’d just witnessed. He’d felt like a voyeur. Watching them, he found it hard to accept that they weren’t actually banging for the camera beneath the concealing sheet.

He told himself they’d only been acting, but his gut twisted with jealousy. Had they just been acting, or had Ivy finally succumbed to the actor’s allure? He almost couldn’t blame her if she had. If the tabloids were to be credited, Terrell was the embodiment of just about every female fantasy in America. Then there was Ivy’s own history of falling for her leading men. Garrett already knew she had a soft heart and a tendency to mistake on-screen love for the real thing. Yet he also knew any relationship with Terrell would only end in disaster. The guy was incapable of fidelity. Just the thought of Terrell taking advantage of Ivy in that way made his hands curl into fists.

He absolutely wanted Ivy to succeed; he wanted her to blow Finn away with the quality of her acting skills. He just hadn’t counted on his own reaction to the sight of Ivy plastered against Terrell.

Outwardly, he’d remained impassive. Inwardly, he’d felt rabid. He’d observed the scene from a distance, staying just out of her line of vision. He hadn’t wanted to distract her, but man, oh, man, it had been tough to stay where he was and not interfere with the shoot.

But when the filming had ended and Ivy had walked toward him wearing no more than a dressing robe, her lips still swollen from Terrell’s kisses, he’d had a primitive and nearly overwhelming urge to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off somewhere private.