Star Struck (3 page)

Set construction really wasn’t Seth’s thing. Not anymore. He’d moved beyond that years ago, but for some reason, he was strongly opposed to letting Heather know that. She’d probably calm down and relax if she realized his true occupation. She might even pick up the flirting again.

The thought sickened him, mostly because that led to other thoughts of how far their flirting could go. And, to quote Heather, that was
just wrong.
He had standards. He didn’t need Heather Wainwright. He didn’t need to be a star fucker.

No, it was better that she thought he was a carpenter—a nobody in her world. That way it would be easier to keep her out of
his
world. He had no interest in such blatant snobbery.

Except Patrick was about to spill the beans. “Actually, Seth’s more about the big picture,” Patrick said. “You know he’s a—”

Seth cut him off before he could say more. “Maybe Heather has personal issues that have influenced her opinion.”

Heather’s head swung to face Seth, daggers shooting from her eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean by that but my opinion is influenced by the fact that I’ve done the plays for five years in New York and three years in L.A. and they’ve been fabulous as is. I don’t understand the idea of fixing something that isn’t broken. But you’re probably a fixer type.”

She crossed her arms, increasing the abundance of her cleavage and he corrected his earlier thought—her breasts were above standard package. Way above.

It didn’t matter. Beautiful tits did not make up for a holier-than-thou attitude.

“Patrick, I’m sorry to interrupt.” Janice Shafer, Patrick’s sidekick from Montblanc, leaned in from the other side of him. “We’re having a small issue with the Urban Arts scholarship performer. Would you mind giving your opinion?”

“Excuse me a moment,” Patrick said to Heather, and Seth detected relief in his voice, as if he were grateful for the chance to end the conversation. Patrick turned his chair toward Janice and the Urban Arts rep who sat beside her.

Seth listened halfheartedly as the rep explained that the teenager scheduled to sing at the plays had a problem with her guitar and that it might not be ready for the show on Saturday and did Patrick have any suggestions for getting a replacement.

But his mind was on the blonde beauty next to him and the tension rolling off her body in thick waves. Her tension fueled his irritation. First, he was just irritated at himself for being reeled in by her, for believing he’d seen something different in her. Then he was pissed at his Johnson for still being very interested in the woman despite her pettiness.

But the more he thought about it, the more he was furious at her. Was she really that shallow? Or was he reading her wrong?

He shouldn’t say anything. He should just let it lie.

But he had to know. “You’re not upset about using a set, are you?” He kept his voice down so that only she could hear him. “You’re upset that you were flirting with someone who builds sets.”

Heather’s mouth dropped open. “I was not…” She lowered her voice to a tense whisper. “I was not flirting.”

“You most certainly were too.” Seriously? How could she deny it?

“I was not.” She stabbed her index finger into the table as if to enforce her point. “I was talking to you like I talk to everyone. I’m very charming.”

“You’re not that charming.”

“I am so charming.” She shifted in her seat and he could see her anger revving up. “How dare you, anyway?” She hissed. “You don’t know. You don’t even know me.”

He wanted to say that he did know her. He knew her type. Conceited, arrogant. She expected the world to fall at her feet, and when it didn’t she demanded an explanation as to why. Wasn’t that what she’d just done with Patrick?

But he couldn’t bring himself to be that honest. It was too cruel.

Still, he couldn’t drop the conversation. Not yet. Not when she’d played with him like she had. “I know that you didn’t flirt with anyone else who talked to you here tonight.”

She sat back, her eyelashes fluttering. “Were you watching me? Are you, like, obsessed with me?” She huffed out a thick breath of air. “Typical.”

“And I know your reputation does not label you as charming.” It was a low blow. Everyone truly in the Hollywood realm knew reputations were often a bunch of bullshit. But he was pissed.

“My reputation? That’s…you can’t believe…”

He had her where he wanted her—flustered and out of defenses. He went in for the kill. “And wasn’t it funny how your charm went away the minute you discovered what my involvement with the plays was? When you figured out you were flirting with a crewmember.”

“I have nothing against crewmembers.”

“Then it’s just carpenters.”

She rolled her eyes. “God, this is ridiculous. You’re totally twisting this around to be about something that it’s not. You’re taking my opposition to using a set and making it about you. Self-centered much?”

Fuck polite. She’d gone cruel first. “Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black. Stuck-up, much?”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

Her eyes blazed with indignation. Then she scooted her chair back and stood with a
hmph
before escaping to the corner of the room, phone in hand.

He felt better having spoken his mind, but also worse at the absence of her warmth. And while he’d wanted to slap her with his words, which he had effectively done, another part of him wanted to follow after her and wrap her in his arms.

What the fuck was that about?

For the second time that night, he shook his head. He’d have no sympathy for her. He’d come from nothing, had built himself up from the ground. It had been tough and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but he’d never forsake his roots. That was why he’d been so impressed with the Urban Arts Partnership. They respected the less fortunate and gave kids a chance to shine through art. Art had been his own savior in his early years. It was why he’d approached the organization and offered to contribute a set. So he could give back, could be a part of the good they did.

Heather Wainwright represented exactly the opposite of what he was hoping to accomplish here. He’d made the mistake with Erica, trying to hide his past, but he’d learned. Now he’d rather be associated with the
underlings
than the highbrows any day.

He took a long pull of his beer and made up his mind to remain anonymous in the production. He needed to get Patrick on board. He focused on Patrick’s conversation, which seemed to be nearing an end. One of the Urban Arts reps had volunteered to find a music store to donate a guitar for the event. Problem solved.

When it seemed like a good moment to cut in, Seth scooted over to Heather’s seat. “Hey, Patrick.” He waited until the exec had excused himself from the others and gave Seth his full attention. “I wanted to ask a favor.”

“Shoot.”

Seth leaned in so he could talk quietly. “I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone that I’m the one donating the materials for the set or that it was my idea. I’d prefer it if everyone just thinks I’m a carpenter.”

Patrick raised a brow. “Well, well. Successful and humble to boot?”

“No, I’m not humble.” He couldn’t make himself a hero in this. That was going too far. He also couldn’t explain to Patrick about his interaction with Heather. “You know how it is. If everyone knew my job title, they’d want me to hire them, all that. It’s best to remain low key.”

Patrick nodded. “I’m with you. Actually, this is easier for me. Because, and I hate to admit it, I still don’t really know what a movie production designer does.”

Seth chuckled. “No worries. Not many people do.” Then, realizing Patrick was waiting for an explanation, he went on. “I’m in charge of everything visual. The costumes, the set, the make-up—the entire aesthetic of the film.”

“Wow. Big job. I heard you could be up for an Oscar nom.”

“I’m not getting my hopes up.” Though he was an early front-runner.

But, while an Oscar would be very exciting, he didn’t need it to feel validated. It was one of the top jobs a person could have on a movie and he’d worked his way up from carpenter to set decorator to set designer to art director before finally landing on production designer. He loved every aspect of his job. He loved working with the director to determine how a movie was supposed to look and feel, then creating it from scratch. He loved overseeing the set and costume design and working with the director of photography to make sure Seth’s vision would show up the way he wanted on film.

He loved that he got to select and hire all the people to get it done right—the make-up artists, the costumers. The carpenters.

“Well, good luck,” Patrick said. “I’d love to see you win a big award. I could say I knew you when. And don’t worry, mum’s the word.”

The sound of a woman clearing her throat drew Seth to look up behind him. Heather stood with arms crossed and a glare on her face. Had she overheard his conversation?

“You’re in my seat.”

No, it didn’t seem she had. He imagined she’d be the type to throw the information in his face if she had.

She raised her eyebrows as if prompting a response.

“Yep, I’m in your seat.” Seth scooted back to his own chair. “And now I’m not.”

Heather slid into her chair and Seth didn’t miss that she inched it away from him as she did.

That was fine. He didn’t want to be sitting next to her either. The sooner the evening was over, the better.

Heather seemed to feel the same. “Patrick, I’m leaving in twenty. If you want me to be here for intros, you’d better do it now.”

Everything on her time schedule. Total diva.

Patrick glanced at his watch. “Yes, that’s a good idea.” He stood and got the room’s attention by tapping his drink with a spoon.

Seth barely listened as Patrick introduced himself and welcomed everyone to the event. Then it was time for introductions, starting with Heather.

Heather’s speech was modest, stating only her experience with the 24-Hour Plays and not reciting her long resume of films and television appearances. She didn’t need to. Everyone knew who Heather Wainwright was.

When she sat, everyone clapped. Except Seth. He wasn’t trying to blatantly be rude—he just couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge anything about her.

He stood for his own intro. “I’m Seth Rafferty. It’s my first time at the plays. I’ll be building the set, a new element of this year’s production.” He caught the eye of Neil Phillips, the only other person in the room who knew Seth’s real job experience. “I’ve, uh, been working on film sets for nearly twenty years now. That’s about it.”

It wasn’t a lie; he didn’t say he’d been
building
film sets for twenty years, just that he’d been
working
on them. From Neil’s nod, he could tell he got the message across. Neil wouldn’t give him away.

Seth sat back down, pleased with himself. This was good. Heather would avoid him because he was only a carpenter and he could focus on his job.

And maybe he’d have to whack off a few times to get her lush lips and orange blossom scent out of his head, but he wouldn’t be the first guy to pleasure himself with Heather Wainwright on the brain.

Somehow, that thought only made him tense up again.

Yeah, the next few days were going to be a bitch.

Chapter Three

Heather watched out the tinted passenger window of the BMW as an up and coming director walked into the Broad Stage with his assistant. A few feet behind him was a writer she recognized as well.

“It’s five ’til nine. I guess I got you here too early,” Lexie said. “Do you want me to drive around?”

“No. I want to be on time. But only just on time. So let’s sit a couple of minutes. At least until another one of the actors shows up.” Heather heard how she sounded, how her arrival rules seemed like a game. She wished for the millionth time she didn’t have to be like that.

But then for the millionth time, she reminded herself that this had been the life she’d wanted. The fame and the fortune didn’t come free.

“You never told me how last night went.” Lexie pushed the recline button on her seat. “Since we have a few minutes.”

Heather groaned. When she’d left Drebs after the intros, she’d been in no mood to talk. Her encounter with Seth Rafferty had left her furious and frustrated. Sexually frustrated. To the point that even her favorite pink vibrator wasn’t able to ease her need.

More than twenty-four hours later, her anger had softened, but her confusion had increased. Maybe talking about it would help.

Problem was, where to begin? “It was terrible.” Seth wasn’t the guy she thought he was. The realization had come with Patrick’s ridiculous announcement. “They’re changing the format. They’ve added a set to the show to be constructed in the same time frame.”

“That might be cool.”

Heather gave Lexie her best
seriously?
look.

But in the privacy of her car with just her assistant, she allowed herself to give it some real thought. “I guess it might be cool. But it’s totally unnecessary.”

“And?”

Lexie had worked with Heather long enough to tell when she was holding something back. Sometimes it was a good thing. Sometimes not so much. “And the guy who’s building the set is an asshole.”