“I got the tickets,” Sam cut in. Maddie hadn’t noticed he’d gone to the ticket counter. “This one’s popular. We need to get in if we want to find seats.”
“Lead the way,” she said. Thankfully, Sam wasn’t acting weird after the drive up. In the backseat of the van where he sat with Maddie, he’d taken her hand. Maddie had pulled away, gently but definitively, and shaken her head. He got the point. If only Micah could be so easily dealt with. Except maybe he had been. He hadn’t made any moves on her the whole day. Maybe he meant what he said about being just friends.
“Oh my God, Micah Preston!” A female voice came from a group next to them. “Can we have your autograph?”
Fans. They’d been lucky so far not to be noticed, but Micah had worn his cap and sunglasses for most of the day. Now, with them removed, he was recognizable.
Maddie stood close enough to him to hear his soft sigh. The admirers saw nothing but his bright smile. “Sure!” He stuck his cap into the back pocket of his jeans. “Do you have a pen?”
They didn’t, but Maddie did. She handed him one from her purse, vaguely aware of someone snapping a cell phone picture as she did.
“Micah, what are you doing in Colorado?” another of the girls asked.
“We’re shooting a film near Golden.”
“Cool! Do you need any extras?”
“I wish.” Micah was polite, charming even. “But it’s about a bunch of outlaws hiding in the mountains. Small cast. Hey, I’d love to stay and chat, but my friends are waiting.” He returned Maddie’s pen.
“That wasn’t so bad,” she said as they joined the rest of their group at the theater doors.
“No, but they took our picture. That gets online and the rumors will begin about you and me.”
You and me. Her heart sung. How nice that sounded.
“That’s our one pic, Maddie,” he teased. “We’ll have to be more careful in the future.”
She shivered at the thoughts those words elicited of sneaking around, avoiding paparazzi and fans. It was an unexpected turn on. Maybe a secret affair with Micah wouldn’t be so bad. But then there’d be the inevitable break-up and that would just suck.
At the door they surrendered their tickets to the usher and entered the theater. Sam had predicted correctly—the room was packed and available seating was sparse. Finding six seats together would be impossible.
“There’s four,” Fudge said pointing to an area near the front.
“You guys take them,” Micah said. “Maddie and I will sit back here. She doesn’t realize I’ve already won our film debate, and I’m sure she has a few more impressive yet irrelevant bits of trivia to throw at me.” He winked at her.
Before anyone could argue, Micah ushered her into the two seats on the aisle of the very back row. It was an older theater, one without stadium seating, and the exit lay just behind them.
“You’re terrible,” Maddie said as she sat down, though she was secretly thrilled to be alone with him.
“What, why? I said it was impressive trivia.”
She glared. “Not that.”
“Oh, separating you and Sam? You said it wasn’t a date.”
“It isn’t. But do you really think it’s fair to stick him with your bodyguard?”
“Hmm.” He considered a moment. “Nah, they’re fine.” He pressed his knee against hers. Was it on purpose? Maybe he had equally been turned on by thoughts of a secret relationship. Or maybe he had been waiting to get her alone. “They can get to know each other.”
She willed herself to stay strong, but leaned into his leg anyway. “Like we’re getting to know each other?”
He relaxed at her response. “I hope not—I mean, do you think Sam is…? I’m positive Fudge’s on our team, but Sam…”
She laughed. God, he was charming. “Shut up. Sam is not gay.”
“You sound like you know from experience.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I don’t get jealous.” He took her hand. “I get what I want.”
Her hand in his felt warm and tingly, quite unlike when Sam had played the same move. He began stroking her slowly with his thumb and her skin burned under his touch. Nearby giggling drew her attention to the fans from the lobby seated across the aisle. She reluctantly pulled her hand away. “Stop it. I don’t need people thinking I’m hooking up with you.”
“Why? Am I that repulsive?”
“No. You’re perfect.” Too perfect. “Besides, we’re just buds, remember?”
Micah stretched his arm around the back of her seat, leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Haven’t you heard of friends with benefits?” His mouth at her ear stirred her blood, arousing her instantly so that the lazy circles his fingers drew on her bare shoulder were almost too intense to bear.
She shifted in her chair, crossing her legs. “I’m beginning to think that’s the only kind of friends you have.”
“That is simply not true. I have lots of friends I don’t sleep with.”
“Female friends.”
“Still not true. Well, mostly not.”
“You’re impossible.” Visions of women upon women lined up at his bedroom door filled her mind. Her stomach sank at the thought. How many women had he had? Hundreds? Thousands?
“No, I’m perfect. You said it yourself.” Still stroking her shoulder, Micah’s other hand moved to play with the edge of her skirt hem.
All her senses heightened, she trembled. He was a lion and she was his prey, helpless under his gaze, his touch, even his artsy intellect reduced her to a puddle.
In utter defiance of her body’s arousal she said, “I’m not going to sleep with you.” At least her brain still worked.
He smirked. “Who said I wanted to?”
“You’ve been trying to get in my panties since yesterday.”
“No way. You’re totally reading me wrong. I’m just being nice.”
“If that were true, you’d think you could keep your hands off me.”
“Yeah, you’d think that. You just have such soft skin.” He moved his hand from her skirt to trace the line of her leg down to her knee with his thumb, leaving a trail of goose flesh in its wake. “I appreciate the feel of soft, silky skin.”
She tugged at her skirt, pulling it further over her bare thighs. “As long as that’s all it is, feel away.”
“Did I mention I also appreciate the feel of perky breasts?” The arm around her lowered and he brushed the side of her bosom with his fingers.
She shrugged his hand away. “Ha ha. How about you appreciate them from a distance?”
“Fine, be that way.” He abruptly removed his hands from her body, leaving her chilled. He leaned back. “Hey, can we talk about something besides your beautiful breasts?”
“Sure. You’re the one who brought them up.”
“I did do that. But I sort of feel like you wanted me to. You know, you’re keeping them right out in front.” She felt his gaze searing on her cleavage. “I’m thinking they like the attention.” He pointed to her nipples, pebbled under his stare.
Maddie blushed. “Hey, the air conditioning is chilly in here.” Damn her lightweight cotton bra, it hid nothing. She crossed her hands, attempting to suppress the ache of her breasts, sensitive with the want of his lips on them, kissing and pulling, fulfilling their need to be touched.
“Whew, that’s better. I can concentrate.”
“Awesome.” She couldn’t, still imagining, dreaming—hoping—for his mouth on her tender skin. For the love of all that was holy, why did he do this to her? And why wasn’t the movie starting? “What did you want to talk about?”
“That douchebag, Sam—”
“He’s not a douchebag—”
“He is, but let’s not argue.” He put his finger to her lips. “I don’t think you should get involved with him.”
“Oh really, and why is that?” Her voice came out breathy, all her effort put into not drawing his finger into her mouth as he swept it across her lips.
&
nbsp; “Because he’s a douchebag.”
She pushed his hand away. “You think you’re so adorable and charming that everyone’s unworthy in comparison. Why do you care, anyway, if I’m with a douchebag? I mean, with Sam?”
“See that? Freudian slip. He’s a douchebag and you know it. And I care because, well, think of it as a public service. You could do much better.”
“Like you?”
“Excellent example! Because I am, as you said, adorable and charming.”
She groaned. “No, I didn’t say that. What you are is an ass. You tell me not to get involved with someone, someone who potentially could be a real fixture in my life if I gave it a chance, simply so you can tease me by touching and fondling me and getting me all hot and bothered when I’ve made it clear I don’t want that.”
The next thing she knew, Micah had pulled her from her seat to the dark recesses of the hall behind them. He held her against the wall, pinning her arms with his own, and growled more than spoke. “I make you hot and bothered?”
Maddie’s voice came out small and thin. “You know you do.”
“Well, here I am. Does it really seem like I’m only teasing?” He leaned in and she closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss. But he stopped just short of her mouth. He circled her face with his own, barely grazing her with his nose. His breath tickled and awakened her as it touched her neck, her ear, her skin. She was on fire, molten lava, and she needed more, needed him. Involuntarily she arched her back, wanting him against her.
Taking her cue, he pressed against her tightly, meeting her body in all the right places.
She gasped as she felt his desire, hard and throbbing against her belly. More, more, she wanted more, needed him on her, inside her.
Behind them the movie roared into action, shocking her to her senses. What was she doing? She pushed him away and ran into the empty lobby of the theater, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light.
She heard Micah follow her and she turned on him, angry. “What is it you want from me?”
“You.” He took a step toward her. “I want you.”
“For today? For a week?”
He shrugged. “For the rest of the production schedule?”
Her chest ached. That he could be so cavalier about the inevitable brevity of a relationship with her fueled her anger. “Yeah, no. I can’t do that with you, Micah. I’m not pretending I’m virtuous or that I haven’t had flings that only lasted the duration of a shoot. Not many, but, you know, some. But I’m not looking for that now.” She softened. “I’m not looking for that with you. I can’t be just another notch in your bedpost.” Her voice cracked. “I like you too much for that.” She felt naked, exposed from her declaration.
His eyes turned distant. “I can’t offer anything but that.”
“I know.” She did know, but it hurt to be reminded. Which was exactly the reason she had to be finished with the never-ending Micah flirtation. Here and now. “That’s why it can’t happen.” She swallowed. “And if you keep pushing me, Micah, you’ll win.” She heard him inhale. “But you’ll break me.”
His shoulders fell, his poise collapsing. “That’s not what I want. I don’t want to break you.”
“Then this—” She gestured between them. “This…has to stop.”
“All right.” He put his hands up in a surrender position, his eyes filled with bewilderment. “It’s stopped. Promise.”
“Thank you,” she choked. She rubbed at her eyes before any tears could fall. Stupid girl tears. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to see this film.”
She didn’t wait to see if he followed as she returned to the theater. She marched down to where the others were seated and tapped Fudge’s shoulder. “Please trade me seats,” she whispered.
Once Fudge relinquished it, Maddie sank into the chair, thankful for the sad subject of the movie so she could cry and hug herself without any questions.
Eleven
Micah had managed the best acting week of his life. Unfortunately none of the great acting was on camera. Yes, he’d filmed several scenes that week, and they’d been decent, but the most convincing work he did was when the camera wasn’t rolling, when he pretended that he was unaffected by Maddie Bauers.
He hadn’t talked to her in several days—since the day in Breckenridge—and he certainly hadn’t touched her. He’d promised he’d stop—stop what? Pursuing her and flirting with her, he supposed. The only way he knew how was to avoid her completely. He’d stayed away from her at the catering tent and let his stand-in take his measurements to be sure he wouldn’t have to address her. He ignored her name on the call sheet and her number in his phone, unwilling to go so far as to erase her contact info. Sure, he was in a foul mood every moment of every day, but remarkably, no one but Fudge seemed to notice. Either he was a better actor than he thought, or his mood just blended in with the rest of the cast and crew, who were edgy from a week of night shoots.
Micah stifled a yawn.
“Am I boring you?” Beaumont asked. It’d been a long day and the director was coaching the main actors for the next evening’s scenes.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“It has. Well, I’m done with you, anyhow. You’re on fire, kid. Keep it up. Any questions?”
Micah shook his head. Truth was he hadn’t been listening to most of what his director had said. Early in the conversation Beaumont had begun picking on the crew, had even thrown a vague insult toward the camera crew, and Micah became distracted. Were all his directors such pricks when it came to the production staff? He hadn’t paid attention in the past. Why did he notice now? Was it because Beaumont was especially prickish or because one of the crew members was Maddie?
It was totally Maddie. How could anyone work with her and not notice her passion and drive? He knew Adam noticed. And Joe. And Sam. How did Beaumont miss it? Micah had paid careful attention to her work whenever he watched the dailies—the raw footage from a day’s shoot. So many times he and the other actors would miss their marks, improvising their blocking, and Maddie’s expertise kept everything in focus, time after time. Why didn’t Beaumont know that? He sat in video village for nearly every take, watching from the monitors, directing over a headset, but surely Joe and Adam told him. Still, the director acted like he had no clue what Maddie did to cover for the cast.
Micah yawned again.
Beaumont patted him on the back. “Get some sleep. Next week we’re back to day shoots. We’re all struggling, but we’ll get through.”
Yeah, right. This week video village had been set up inside the cabin. Beaumont got to sit in comfort while his cast and crew slapped at bugs and waded through stickers in the meadow and the woods outside in the dark. Hardly seemed like Beaumont was struggling.
But Micah nodded and looked at his watch before picking up his messenger bag. Four in the morning. No wonder he felt so out of it.
He bid goodnight to Beaumont and the actors still conversing around the table in the cabin dining area and walked into the main room. At the front door, he glanced at the monitors that made up video village in the corner. Maddie sat there, her back to him.
Alone and unnoticed, he took the opportunity to feast his eyes on her for the first time in days. Her dark brown hair was swept up into an untidy bun, long tendrils hanging down her neck—her long, graceful neck—curling around the cord of the headphones she wore. She’d discarded her overshirt and Micah could see the thin, baby-blue strap of her bra peeking around the edge of her tank. He relished the times she bared her firm, strong arms and her sun-darkened flawless skin. He longed to touch her, run his hands over her shoulders, feel his arms around her.
But that was a fantasy for another life.
What caught his attention now were the images on the thirty-inch monitor she sat behind. Picturesque shots of a young couple filled the screen. The woman knelt in a red wagon, her arms spread as the man raced down the street, pulling her behind him. Both laughed, the camera catching the pure an
d exquisite joy of such a simple moment. It was shot as the sun was setting, and beams of light reflected off the camera lens, creating a whimsical effect. Micah was enthralled.
He moved closer to watch over Maddie’s shoulder. Eventually, he was unable to contain his curiosity. “What is it?”
She jumped and swiveled toward him. “Oh my God, you scared me.” She removed her headphones and hung them around her neck. “We have a production meeting in a bit. Joe said I could use the monitor until then. Are you guys done?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. God, what he’d done to her that she couldn’t even look at him. “I’m done. Beaumont’s still with the others. But I meant, what are you watching?”
“Oh, I…it’s just something I’ve been working on.” She hit a button on her laptop and the screen froze.
“Don’t stop it. Please.” Maddie shrugged and restarted the film from the beginning of the section. “Working on,” Micah repeated, his eyes not leaving the screen. “Editing…? Directing…?”
“Both.”
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
“What?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s beautiful. I can’t hear any sound, don’t even know the storyline and I’m totally drawn in. The images are so vivid. The lighting is perfect. The quality is excellent. Digital film?”
“Yes, I shot it on RED.”
“You shot it? Gorgeous.” Man, he wished he could’ve seen that. The idea of her behind a camera was a total turn-on, mentally and physically. First, she’d look hot on a camera dolly. Hell, when didn’t she look hot? But more profoundly, he’d always admired people who ran camera. They dared to see the world in front of them in such a way that it created an exact story. It was much easier to act—totally self-absorbed—than it was to see everything completely outside of yourself.
He realized then that she probably saw him. Saw him in a way that few women ever did, with her photographer’s eye and her crazy insight and her brief glimpse of him in his youth. It scared him.
He shook away the thought and focused on the screen. When he spoke again it was as if he hadn’t been quiet for several minutes. “But it’s not just that, it’s the editing. Those jump cuts are awesome.”
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