by Jill Downey
“I’m not going to lie to you, I’ve never been inclined to settle down. The grass has always been greener on the other side. Always chasing the next shiny object…always fighting an inner restlessness…but right now, from where I’m sitting, I’m right where I want to be. I’m in the greenest pasture I’ve ever seen.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It always feels that way in the beginning. People think of me in a certain way, they assume that they know me because they’ve seen me in a film or two. But I’m not that person, it’s a character I play. It’s a big letdown when they find out that I’m just a normal human being, with the same foibles as everyone else.”
“I understand that. And I am captivated, intrigued. But I want to get beyond that armor you’ve got up.”
“Griffin, I’m the shiny object right now…I’m something new and interesting. It’s a challenge and all that, I get it, but I just can’t allow myself to be the new toy in your toybox.”
“I could say the same about you. You’re around all the glitter and glam, handsome leading men, fans swooning over you, men lusting…fantasizing. I’d be taking a risk too…but how will we know if it could be more unless we try?”
Penelope crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. “I’ve been with two men in my entire life. Can you say the same?”
His eyes widened in shock. “Really?”
“Yes really.”
“Wow. Who’d have ever thought.”
“See, that’s my point. You see me in these torrid onscreen romances, then assume I’m the nymphomaniac of your dreams. Instead I’m just an ordinary person.”
His blue eyes were bottomless as he boldly met her gaze. “Hardly ordinary. I find you fascinatingly extraordinary.”
A waiter appeared with a pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice and two glass bowls of honeyed fruit salad. “Could I interest either of you in a Bloody Mary or a Mimosa?”
Griffin said, “I’m going to pass since I’ll be flying us back, but why don’t you indulge?”
“Yes, I’ll have a Mimosa please.”
“I’ll be right back with that Mademoiselle.”
A different waiter appeared with a tray of flaky, layered French pastries. Penelope’s mouth watered as she eyed them. She moaned audibly as he placed a plate in front of her. He’d barely retreated before she picked it up. She glanced up and caught Griffin staring. Busted.
“I love your enthusiasm,” he said, his voice warm and amused.
Embarrassed, she defended herself, “I haven’t had one bite to eat today.”
“It’s not a criticism. I mean it. I love watching you. It’s like seeing a kid in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.”
“Gee thanks,” she said, feeling slightly awkward.
“You’re welcome.”
She took her first bite of the pastry and looked up to see both waiters carrying enough food to feed the entire film crew. French crepes, classic French merguez—which, Griffin pointed out, were essentially fancy sausage—quiche, cheese slices, bacon, yogurt and granola, French toast with three flavors of syrup.
The minute they left, she said, “Oh my God! In two days, I’ll be naked in front of a camera again. What are you trying to do to me?”
“We’ll walk it off.”
“Are we walking all the way back to North Carolina then?”
“Dig in.”
“Oh, I’m going to, you don’t have to worry about that.”
They both put their heads down and ate like it was their last meal.
Griffin glanced over at Penelope as they soared three thousand feet above the earth. She’d fallen asleep within minutes of them taking off. He’d wanted to get back home before nightfall, so they’d packed in as much as they could. After brunch they’d been too full to do much of anything, so they’d hit Tybee Island first and lazed around the beach for several hours before exploring Savannah. All in all, it had been an incredible day.
He brushed his fingers up and down her arm. “Wake up sleepy head, we’re here.”
She opened her eyes slowly and stretched her arms overhead, yawning. “I slept through the landing?”
“Yep, alcohol at brunch sets the tone for the day, laid back and easy,” he said.
“I’m sorry for this day to end,” she said wistfully.
He tweaked her nose. “We’ll do it again. Now I’ll deliver you back to your castle before you turn into a pumpkin.”
“Willy Wonka, Cinderella, you’ll make a great dad someday.”
His eyes flickered inscrutably before he reached for their bags and opened the plane exit door. The drive home was a quiet one, both deep into their own thoughts.
At the door he dropped off her bag and quickly departed. No hug…no kiss. Platonic, like she’d requested. Then why was she so disappointed? Archie raced to greet her, jumping up enthusiastically. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms as he licked her face. She sighed, “At least I have one guy that loves me unconditionally.”
She put him down and went to find Dolly. Thank God for friends.
19
Penelope’s hands shook as she stared at the words written in garish red marker, scrawled across her face on the magazine cover. Whore. Nice. And the superimposed penis sticking out of her mouth was so original. Truly the work of an artistic genius. Way to start a Monday morning.
Someone had slipped it under her dressing room door sometime between last Friday and today. It had been sealed in a plain manilla envelope with her name printed neatly on the front. She didn’t have to think too long or hard about who that someone could have been. Jack. Of course, he blamed her for getting fired; it was easier than looking at his own disgusting behavior.
She slipped her shirt off then stepped out of her jeans and underwear. She grabbed the satin and lace corset and pulled it on leaving the garter straps dangling, then slipped on the matching panty.
“Knock, knock,” Dolly said as she entered. She’d arrived to do her hair and makeup before the morning shoot.
Penelope grabbed the magazine and thrust it toward Dolly.
Dolly’s brows drew together. “Where did this come from?”
“I found it about ten minutes ago, when I walked into the room.”
“We have to find Stew. Can you text him?”
“No. I’m not going to bother him with this. I’m becoming a pain in the ass. Look, we know this is about Jack and his ego. He fucked up and now no one will hire him. He’s got to blame someone.”
“Stew needs to know.”
“I’m ready to put that whole thing behind me. Jack is trying to pay me back by scaring me. I’m not partaking. I won’t let him get to me Dolly. If I do then he’s won.”
Dolly glanced at her watch. “We’d better get a move on. You’re due on set in forty minutes.”
“Yeah, a big sex scene with Noah. Joy. He’s been acting so weird lately.”
“He’s jealous and he knows how badly he screwed up. He’s still in love with you, Penny.”
Raking her hands through her thick blond hair, she blew out a long breath, “I know. Not much I can do about it.”
“You’re right. It’s not your problem.”
“He’s trying to make it mine.”
“My advice is to ignore him. Do your scenes, let him get his petty jabs in and move on.”
“You’re right.”
“No wonder you hate men,” Dolly said.
Penelope leaned over and pulled up the sheer black stocking, fastening it to the garner belt in the front. “Can you hand me the other stocking?” Dolly tossed it to her.
“Hurry up and finish getting dressed so I can get your hair and makeup done in time.”
Penelope stood and attached the back garter straps to her nylons, then slipped on her silk robe, knotting the tie at her waist. “I’m ready. All I have to do is dig out my black stilettos and I’m good to go.”
“Sit.” She scrutinized Penelope’s face and said, “I think I have the easiest job in the world.”
“Cut!” Stewart said. They were filming at a rented beach house that served as the set home for Penelope and Noah’s movie characters.
Thank God! Penelope didn’t think she could take another second of Noah touching her. He’d taken a few liberties with the scene they’d acted out, enjoying their sexually charged fight far more than he had a right too. She quickly donned her robe and hugged herself, her body suddenly cold and shaky.
“It’s a wrap. Good job. Only three takes. I’m sorry we had to redo the last one. I know these scenes are tough for everyone.”
Penelope reached down and grabbed her shoes and discarded corset from the ground and said, “Can I leave, Stew?”
“Yeah, take a short break but don’t go back to the hotel yet. I’d like to shoot the scene with you in the kitchen after Noah leaves.”
“Okay.”
Noah followed her outside. “You seem a little off today. Everything alright?”
“Noah, you took advantage in that scene and if it happens again, I’ll have no choice but to tell Stew.”
“What are you talking about? Don’t be such a prude. It was a sex scene. It’s supposed to be hot; it’s called improvisation…you know that thing we actors do to make a scene believable?”
“You were putting your hands in places they didn’t need to go.”
“I was trying to make the scene sensual…unlike you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I carried that scene and you know it. You were practically flinching every time I touched you.”
“Good thing my character hates her husband isn’t it? I’ll let it slide this time, but be on notice, you’ve had your one and only warning.”
“What has happened to you? You’ve become impossible.”
“If standing up for myself means I’m impossible, I’ll proudly wear that badge.” She held her chin up and put as much distance between them as she could. Fuming, she paced back and forth, doubting herself. Maybe it should be addressed with Stew immediately.
Why was she always so afraid to make waves? Why did women always have to do the accommodating? She sighed. If she was looking for black and white, she knew she wouldn’t find it. Life was mostly lived in the gray areas. She hoped her warning was enough and that would be the end of it. This would be her last film with Noah; now that was one decision that was crystal clear.
20
It was nice to have the day off, but even after a morning jog, Griffin was still restless. His cell phone pinged, signaling an incoming text message.
Courtney: Hey, its Courtney. I have a twenty-four-hour layover. Meet for a drink?
He studied the message thoughtfully, surprised at how indifferent he felt. How should he answer? Normally a romp with Courtney would be high on his ‘yes please’ meter, but today it fell surprisingly flat. He scrubbed his face with his hands and blew out a breath. Was this what his thirties were going to be like? Maybe he was becoming a dull and uninteresting bore. Not going to let that happen.
Griffin: Yes. Yacht Club lounge, six o’clock happy hour?
Courtney: See you then gorgeous.
Griffin: Looking forward to it babe.
Settled. Giving up…not an option. Way too young to throw in the towel. Maybe Courtney was just what he needed to get Penelope out of his head. She had taken up a permanent residence there it seemed. In his whole life, everything had always fallen neatly into his lap. Never had to work for it before. Why should he start now? This distraction was perfect timing. He glanced at his watch. Now all he had to do was kill two hours.
A half hour later he merged onto the byway, straddling his powerful Ducati. Nothing like high speed to blow off steam. He’d skipped the helmet, needing to feel the full force of the wind against him. Talk about running against the wind…his gut churned with an unfamiliar yearning. He’d never really needed anyone before. Need…a small word for a big problem…was this what it felt like? Or was it simply a matter of not getting what he wanted…instant gratification was his normal modus operandi. Made sense that he’d be discombobulated by Penelope’s reticence.
Leaning his torso low over the bike he went full throttle and stormed down the highway like the devil was on his heels.
Griffin sipped his second martini, only half listening to Courtney excitedly prattle on about her latest traveling adventure. This was not going as planned. He was still bored. He couldn’t keep his mind in the game. If he were in Vegas, he’d be losing big time.
Courtney grabbed his arm, “Griffin? Did you hear anything I just said?”
“I’m sorry. I was distracted. Tell me again.”
“I just asked how it feels to be thirty? You did have a birthday, recently right? Does it have you thinking about settling down…maybe a kid or two?”
His brows snapped together, and sounding more irritated than intended, he said, “Why is everyone so interested in tying me down?”
“I was teasing. We’re cut out of the same cloth I’m afraid. Just checking. No one special then?”
“I’m not dating anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s good then,” she slipped her hand down to his thigh and snuggled it against his crotch.
Normally this would have been all he’d have needed to be settling the check and heading to her hotel. Instead he was detached, like it was happening to someone else. When she groped his cock firmly and squeezed, he knew it was time for his exit.
“Listen Courtney, I’m going to have to bow out here. Sorry, but I’ve got to get up early in the morning.”
She studied him, “That never stopped you before. You don’t have to stay the night. Let’s just have a quickie and be done with it. I’m horny as hell. I’ve missed you.”
“Not tonight Court, but thanks.”
“Can’t say I’m not disappointed, but at least we got a chance to catch up. Does this have anything to do with your leading lady?”
“Hardly.”
“Just checking. She’s certainly a force of nature, couldn’t blame you for falling for her.”
“End of conversation,” he said. Settling their bill, he left the tab open on his charge for Courtney. He stood and she swiveled her bar stool to face him.
“Have a safe flight out tomorrow.” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. Leaning down he kissed the top of her head.
“You sure about this?” she said, looking up at him through her lashes.
He grinned. “I’ll probably be kicking myself later, but yeah, I’m sure.”
“See you around then?”
“Yeah. Drink up. It’s on me. Order some food if you’re hungry.”
“You always were the consummate gentleman. Thanks.” Winking at him she said, “Good luck with your leading lady.”
He tensed, ready to snap back, then checking himself, he forced his shoulders to relax, “Nice try. See ya.” And he left, wondering what the hell he was going to do for fun the rest of his life.
21
Griffin stuck his head inside Penelope’s dressing room, “Hey how did the shoot go yesterday?”
“A barrel of laughs,” she said, meeting his eyes from her vanity mirror.
“Was it that bad?”
“It wasn’t fun, but whatever.”
Griffin’s eyes narrowed as he spied the defaced magazine on top of her vanity.
“What’s that?”
She grabbed it and tossed it in the trash. “Jack’s revenge.”
He walked in and pulled it out of the trash can, studying it with a dark scowl on his face. “This is bullshit.”
“Don’t I know it?”
“Did you show it to Stew?”
“No, I decided to drop it.”
“Don’t think so babe.”
“What?”
“I said no. You’ve got to report it.”
“What
is it with you men? You all say jump and I’m supposed to nod and ask how high? I said I’m handling it and I’ve decided to ignore it.” She stood up and paced.
“Ouch. So now I’m the bad guy?”
“I’m just sick of it! I’m sick of all of you.” She plopped down on the edge of the couch and covered her face with her hands fighting back tears.
Griffin shut the door behind him and sat down next to her. He put his arm around her, and she stiffened.
“Leave me alone.”
“I can’t...believe me I’ve tried.”
Her voice sounded muffled through her hands. “Please just go.”
He pulled her onto his lap and held her tightly against his chest. His lips brushed against her hair as he said quietly, “Penelope, you can call me a dick, control freak whatever you want, but I’m not leaving.”
Her shoulders shook as she cried quietly into his tee shirt. “I’m a mess.”
“Let it all out. You’ve received a few knocks; you’re entitled to your tears.”
She slowly relaxed against him, her body softening. She slid her arms around his waist then rested her head on his shoulder. His shirt was wet from her tears. Her breath hitched several times before she quieted. He stroked her hair back and inhaled, groaning inwardly at her intoxicating feminine scent.
She was all woman and her hands seared him through the cotton fabric of his shirt. He shifted her weight on his lap hoping it would ease his arousal. Her fingers curled into his waist as her breath quickened, tickling his neck. The electricity between them suddenly became inescapable. She put her lips against his throat and his belly coiled with desire.
Cupping the back of his head she pulled him down to meet her lips. He held completely still, afraid to breathe. Was this really happening? She traced his bottom lip with her tongue then drew it inside her mouth sucking gently.