Authors: Laurelin Paige
Take Two (36 page)
God help me.
I stepped around a ladder and over a cord, and there we were.
“Hi,” I said.
She responded with a thin smile and a quiet, “Hi.”
“So you’re Olivia.” I extended my hand. “Buck Harder.”
She shook my hand. “I’m Olivia, yes. Well, Rachel.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too.” She let go of my hand, and I didn’t miss the hint of a smirk. I was used to that. Price you pay for a stage name like mine. I supposed I could have made things easier by telling her my real name, but that was something I kept guarded. The fewer people who knew Buck Harder was really Lee Peyton, the better.
“So, um…” I cleared my throat and glanced at the half-constructed stage. How the hell was I supposed to make conversation with this woman? Without saying something like,
You’re even hotter in person
or,
Holy shit, you look goood in leather
?
Just before I could open my mouth and make an ass of myself, Jim, the director, broke in. “Oh good. You two have been introduced.” He put one hand on my shoulder and the other on Olivia’s. “Pretty straightforward, what you’ll be doing up there”—with his chin, he gestured toward the stage—“but we’ll also be shooting in front of a green screen. Close-up of your faces. Not too much to rehearse there, though. Mostly just different lighting and camera angles for us.” He smiled at her, then at me. “Isn’t a whole lot for you two to do except lip-synch and dance, but do either of you have any questions?”
Olivia and I shook our heads.
“Good!” He clapped our shoulders, and we both winced. Oblivious, Jim said, “Let’s get this started, then. Everybody onstage.”
As ordered, we headed up to the stage. Olivia went ahead of me and made judicious use of the handrail on her way up the six stairs. I cringed on her behalf; those shoes looked excruciating, and I imagined even the slightest stumble could result in a trip to the emergency room.
She made it onto the stage without incident, though. Front and center, someone had made a small box out of electrical tape on the bare plywood.
“Need both of you in that box,” Jim shouted.
I eyed the box, then him. “You…
both
of us?”
“Both of you.”
The tape square was just big enough for one person to stand comfortably with their feet roughly shoulder width apart. But two? Not so much.
Olivia stood as close to the front of the box as she could. I stayed as close to the back as possible, trying to give her some breathing room. Fat chance of that, though. Even with the balls of her feet on the front and my heels on the opposite side, my chest brushed her back, and her whole body tensed. She stood ramrod straight, drawing as far away from me as her center of gravity would allow.
“They don’t give us much room to move, do they?” I muttered.
She turned her head slightly. “Not really, no.”
“Hands on her waist,” Jim called out from below us.
I didn’t think Olivia could get any tenser. I was wrong.
As I rested my hands on her waist, she sucked in a breath, and every muscle in her body stiffened. I gritted my teeth. It was hard to tell if she was repulsed by me, or if she was just uncomfortable with the entire setup, but either way, it didn’t bode well for much onstage chemistry.
And Jim didn’t help. “Buck, I need you to move in a little closer.”
Closer? Seriously?
I cleared my throat. “Uh, how close do you want me to get? This is about as close—”
“Lean in more,” Jim said. “So you’re almost kissing her neck but not quite.”
Fuck, dude. Really?
Olivia blew out a long breath. Over her shoulder, she said, “It’s okay. If he wants us closer, then…” She tilted her head slightly, offering up more of her neck.
I did as I was told. Thanks to the high heels, I didn’t have to lean down very far to get my lips close to her neck. Well, at least that would be easier on my own neck. I’d already scheduled a massage for tomorrow after the shoot was over, but the less I aggravated that old injury, the better.
“Music’s about to start,” Jim called up to us. “When it does, you know what to do.”
Yeah. I do.
I resisted the urge to adjust my grasp on Olivia’s waist. No point in reminding her where my hands were, even if the leather was already making my palms sweat.
I pulled in a deep breath through my nose and caught a whiff of both leather and either a faint perfume or the remnants of a sweet-smelling shampoo, and goose bumps prickled to life beneath my clothes. Forget pretending I wanted to kiss her neck. I did want to. I wanted to breathe her in, taste her skin, kiss beneath the sharp edge of her jaw.
Just as well she doesn’t like me,
I thought, willing myself to focus on anything but lusting after her,
or I might be tempted
.
The music started. In a heartbeat, the stiff, tense body in my hands was in motion. In fluid, smooth motion, like the tempo was hardwired into her muscles. Her hips swiveled. One shoulder dipped and came up. Then the other. I followed as best I could, and thank God for years of professionally following women’s leads, because my body instinctively complemented her every move. We probably would have been in perfect synch if not for the constant chorus of
don’t touch her too much, don’t touch her too much, don’t touch her too much
echoing in the back of my brain. Or the lingering stiffness in her, the slight hitch in her otherwise perfect motion, which was all too conspicuously an effort to keep our contact to a minimum.
The music stopped abruptly, and our bodies did too. I kept my hands on her waist, but we separated as much as we could, jumping at the opportunity for some breathing room.
“I need to see more motion.” Jim waved his arms in the air. “I want you two in one place, but I need to see
more motion
.”
“Says the man wearing comfortable clothes,” I muttered.
Olivia snorted. Well, that was a start. At least she had a sense of humor.
Then Jim said to someone, “Cue up the music and let’s start again.” Instantly, whatever minute relaxation that laugh had brought out of Olivia evaporated, and her body was once again stiff and tense against mine.
I tried not to think about the uncomfortable tension between us, and when the music started, I focused on that instead. I hadn’t heard the song before today, but I’d listened to it a few times since I’d arrived this morning. If the rest of the songs were half as good as “You Ain’t Even Kissed Me Yet”, this album was going to sell insanely well. Her sound was so much better than her old stuff. The old music was great, but this? This was unreal. Stronger, bolder; her image wasn’t the only thing that had grown up.
Take Two
Laurelin Paige
He’s ready for his close up, but she’s the one calling the shots.
On the night of her graduation from film school, straight-laced Maddie Bauers fell completely out of character for an oh-my-god make-out session with a perfect stranger. Complete with the big O.
Seven years later, that romantic interlude is still fresh in her mind. That stranger is now a rich and famous actor. And she’s one very distracted camera assistant working on his latest production. She might consider another tryst…if he even remembers her.
Micah Preston does indeed remember Maddie. Too bad he’s sworn off Hollywood relationships. He allows himself as much sex as he likes—and oh, he does like—but anything more is asking for trouble. For the woman, not for him. Yet knowing Maddie could want more than a movie-set fling doesn’t stop him from pursuing her like a moth drawn to hot stage lights.
But as the shoot nears its end, it’s decision time. Is it time to call, “Cut!” on their affair, or is there enough material for a sequel?
Warning: Contains a dreamy movie star hero, a focus-pulling heroine, off-the-charts instant chemistry, steamy sex in near-public locations, and a new use for lip gloss.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Take Two
Copyright © 2014 by Laurelin Paige
ISBN: 978-1-61921-967-0
Edited by Holly Atkinson
Cover by Lyn Taylor
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: February 2014
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