#1 Muse

by T Gephart

  Nick nodded, still not seeing the problem as he added, “Yes, my agent is Jeremy Levin. I gave it to him last week, he read it.”

  I was mistaken. It wasn’t a bus that would take me out but a freaking tank.

  “Listen to me.” I grabbed his hands trying not to show him how much I was freaking the hell out. “Jeremy hates me, this is not a good thing. I probably should have brought this up, but I didn’t see the point. I mean, it’s not like it’s important because why would it matter.” I barely took a breath, trying to get it out as quickly as possible. “But I queried Jeremy about a year ago. Not that it had anything to do with you. And to be honest, I didn’t even know he was your agent at the time—”

  “Claire, take a breath.” He grabbed both my arms, holding me still and forcing me to breathe. “Jeremy can be a prick but he knows Hollywood and he likes making money. He loved your story.”

  “What the actual fuck?” This time I had absolutely meant to say it, pushing my hands against his chest as I reeled from the shock.

  Nick laughed, grabbing both my hands and holding them hostage above my head. “Let’s lay off the shoving just for a minute so I can tell you the rest of it. He read it and he loved it, said that it obviously needed to be adapted, but once it was a workable script he’d be interested in shopping it to networks and studios.”

  It wasn’t possible.

  There was no way Mr. You-write-so-shit-I-want-to-poke-my-eyes-out had said that about me. There had to be a mistake, or some kind of misunderstanding.

  “Does he know I wrote it?” Would he even remember me after a year? “My name was on it, and he isn’t under some delusion that some other famous person wrote it, right?” Because I would rather have the asshole agent tell me he changed his mind than believe someone else was responsible for my work.

  “Of course your name is on it, who else would I have told him it was?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, curious as to why I was questioning his integrity.

  Uh-uh busted.

  Firstly, why I believed he liked the script and wanted to help me, there was a part of me that was worried his opinion was clouded. We were sleeping together, and no matter what anyone said, it changed things.

  I didn’t want for him to have skillfully misrepresented—with all the best intentions—who actually wrote the damn thing. It was one time where bait and switch would surely backfire, and I already had enough personal demons to fight without being laughed out of the building when Nick realized he’d been thinking with his penis and not his head. Not the thing I could exactly ask though was it?

  “Because he isn’t a fan of my work, and I don’t want you sticking out your neck for me only to have it blow up in both our faces,” I responded trying not to sound defensive, the attempt not great. Hey, it was the best I could do considering what I had to work with.

  “Regardless, he knows you wrote it.” He chose to ignore the mention of probable doom and continued. “He even told me to get you to call him and set up a meeting.”

  “Jeremy Levin wants me to call him?”

  Now that had to be bullshit. You didn’t call Jeremy, you were fucking summoned, and even then he didn’t give you his phone number.

  “Well, he wants you to call his assistant Jessica, but she’ll set up the meeting.” He smiled, because he knew the difference.

  He wrapped his arms around me, his body engulfing me in a hug. “This is a good thing, Claire. Why are you freaking out?”

  He was right. There certainly was the possibility that it was a good thing, and things had definitely been better in the last couple of weeks. I had listed all the ways my luck had changed and how wonderful my life was. So, it was perfectly reasonable to assume the run of luck would continue, catapulting all the awesome into out of this world outstanding.

  I was being paranoid.

  It was a good thing.

  “You just caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it.” I laughed nervously. “I wished you’d asked me before you’d given it to someone else.”

  His lips curled to the side as his brow rose. “If I’d asked, there’d be a chance you’d say no. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

  “Really? You’re going to plead ignorance as a defense? You know I would have said no because I didn’t even want you to read it,” I huffed out, pretending to be mad. I’ll admit it was difficult, probably because he was so goddamn charming.

  He nodded, his hands settling on my hips as he grinned. “That’s a fair call. And I probably deserve you being angry at me right now.”

  “Funny, you look too smug to be sorry.” I laughed, the man was also adorable, which was making any anger I might have felt difficult.

  “Because I’m not sorry.”

  “You’re impossible.” I rolled my eyes, shoving gently against his chest.

  He grinned wider, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Impossible to be mad at, right? Don’t fight it, Claire, you know I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  If there was any chance at all, any hope that I could be angry, it evaporated when he unleashed those gorgeous puppy dog eyes. There wasn’t a woman alive who could resist him or them, and I was no different.

  I shook my head, burying it into his chest. “You are a bad man, Nick Larsson.”

  “I promise you,” he whispered into my hair as he chuckled. “That I only did it to help, I know this is what you want. And yeah, maybe I have a vested interest because I want to play the lead, but I wouldn’t waste my time if it wasn’t an amazing story. It’s really that good, Claire, and if I can put it in front of a few people and help you get recognized, then I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  Well then.

  Now I was the one who felt like I should apologize.

  I lifted my head, looking up at him—the risk of the puppy eyes be damned. “You’re right, you are impossible to be angry with.”

  And suddenly his eyes weren’t the biggest threat in his arsenal, the crooked grin spreading across his lips, by far more lethal. “I’m just getting you the meeting, the rest is going to be all you.”

  “Even if he likes it, he’ll probably want me to change it. They are going to tear it apart.” The words fell from my lips as our gazes locked, my vulnerability on full display.

  He shook his head. “No one will tear it apart, trust me, Claire.”

  “I do trust you. But this story . . .” Was personal “Is important to me. I want it done right, I want it treated with respect.” And I wanted to be treated with respect, I didn’t say the last part, leaving it just for me.

  “Look at me.” He lifted my chin, his thumbs cradling my jaw. “I know you want it done right, and it will be. You’ve earned this, Claire. Trust me, no one will railroad you.”

  “God.” I shook my head, barely allowing myself to believe that there was even a possibility of it being optioned let alone becoming anything. “I have to be the one to adapt it.”

  He nodded, his smile returning. “Of course, who else is going to do it? And I can’t wait to see how amazing it turns out.”

  “Okay, you can stop now. You’re already getting laid, no need for overkill.”

  His grin got wider. “If I knew sexual favors were on the table, I’d have done it sooner.”

  “You’re going to be my undoing.” I didn’t even try to hide it, knowing there was very little I’d be able to do to resist it. To resist him.

  Man, I was falling so fast, it scared the shit out of me, and yet, there I was doing it anyway because it felt so right.

  His hand lifted my chin, cradling it as he dragged his thumb along my jaw. “We’ll undo each other, together. It will be more fun that way.”

  Somehow, I didn’t think we were talking about the same thing.

  Too bad I was in too deep to care.

  “NOW TAKE A LONG CLEANSING breath, all the way out, feeling the tension exit your body as you exhale.”

  A loud rush of exhales followed as Pru—her name hadn’t been Moonbeam af
ter all—wandered around the room. Her voice was calming, the soft and steady cadence up and down each syllable making you want to go to sleep.

  “You’re not breathing properly,” I whispered, rubbing Scully’s back as I encouraged her through another fake contraction.

  She blew out, puffing out her cheeks as she rolled her eyes. “It’s breathing, if I wasn’t doing it right I’d be dead.”

  “In and out, nice and slow.” Pru’s voice wafted from behind us.

  “Sounds like what got you into this mess.” I snickered, biting my lip as I suppressed the laugh.

  Scully wasn’t so disciplined, chuckling before jabbing her elbow back and landing me right in the ribs. “Stop it, we’re supposed to be serious.”

  When I had agreed to come with Scully to birthing classes, we knew it was going to be out of both our comfort zones. But as her due date crept closer, she was starting to freak out, and we’d hoped that the class would help her relax.

  But it hadn’t worked out that way.

  If anything it was doing the opposite, making her feel even less prepared and more overwhelmed, watching all the happy couples around her with their shit seemingly all together.

  “That’s it partners, keep rubbing their backs.” Her voice droned from behind us. “Birth is as much of a state of mind as it is about your body, and it is natural to need support. Take it, reach out and accept it, because when the time comes, it’s easier if there is someone there with you.”

  I felt Scully’s body stiffen, her smile dropping as she continued to breathe.

  Pru circled the room, nodding gently as she moved between the couples, her footsteps getting closer to us. “Awww, so much love in the room. Babies are created in love so it’s important they feel your connection. Partners, make sure you keep holding our precious mommies. So much comfort is transmitted by touch, let them feel your support.”

  Yeah, probably not what you want to say to a woman who hadn’t seen the other party responsible in months.

  “Ignore her, she’s clearly been smoking weed,” I whispered in Scully’s ear, hoping like hell we could move back to breathing.

  “Ladies, you are bringing into this world the miracle of life. It’s not only your bodies that will change, but your life will forever be altered.”

  “Get me out of here.” The words sounded strangled in Scully’s throat as her eyes started to water. “Please, I need to get out.”

  Without another word, I rose to my feet, holding out my hands and helping Scully to hers. I grabbed her water bottle and her oversized bag, the exit only a few feet away. The other couples turned around, eyes on us as Pru came over to investigate. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is perfect.” I stood in front of Scully giving her a minute to collect herself as I discreetly popped off the top of the water bottle and used the large bag as cover. “It’s so great, all the love and Zen, I’m feeling so relaxed.”

  Pru beamed, clasping her hands against her chest. “Oh, I’m so pleased. The way you got up in a hurry, I thought you might be leaving.”

  “Oh, we are leaving unfortunately.” My fingers squeezed against the plastic, the bottle aimed at my crotch leaking and forming a large wet patch on my yoga pants. Ugh, it was cold, the water soaking through and making the fabric stick to my skin.

  “You see,” I leaned forward trying to look suitably embarrassed. “I felt so calm and relaxed that I accidentally peed myself.” I moved the bag, revealing the full extent of my shame. “One minute you’re fine, the next minute . . . well, we’ve all been there, right ladies.” I winked at the swollen-bellied sisterhood on the floor who nodded their head in sympathy. “Anyway, we better go. Thanks so much.”

  I dragged out Scully, her tears no longer threatening to fall now that she was laughing at me.

  “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.” I closed the door behind us, walking down the hall toward the main door.

  Scully chuckled, waddling to the exit and then stepping outside into the night air. “You couldn’t think of a better excuse than peeing your pants?”

  “It worked didn’t it?” Although, it probably wasn’t my wisest choice, the drive home in wet yoga pants not one I was looking forward to, but sometimes you just had to do what you had to do.

  “Thank you.” She hugged me, her voice getting wavy.

  The pregnancy emotions weren’t anything new or anything to be ashamed of, but I knew it was bugging her. The feeling of being out of control was something I had been through, though for a vastly different reason. And I could understand her not wanting to have her breakdown in public, wanting to control what she could when her life was changing so drastically. Yet another thing I could relate to. And if I had to let a bunch of strangers think I had incontinence issues to protect my best friend, then so be it.

  I hit the keyless lock on my fob, my headlights lighting up as the locks disengaged. “Let’s get home, put on pajamas and watch television.”

  “That sounds amazing.” She sighed, walking to the passenger side and hopping in.

  Other than being uncomfortable in my “pee” pants, the drive was really nice. We hadn’t spent as much time together lately—Nick getting most of my attention—so it was good to laugh and talk.

  “I’m so wet, I can’t wait to get out of these pants.” I pushed open our front door, tossing the keys onto the side table.”

  “Really?” Nick smirked as he rose from his seat on the couch. “Words every man wants to hear.”

  Luke scoffed, “Speak for yourself. This man wouldn’t.”

  “Hey.” I closed the gap between us and gave him a hug. “Did we have plans tonight?”

  We’d spent almost every night together since the night I crashed on his couch, but when I told him about Scully’s baby class, I assumed I’d be spending the night alone.

  “Nope, no plans. I was on my way to visit Eric and figured I’d stop by and say hi to Luke.” Nick lowered his head, dropping a kiss on my lips.

  Luke grinned, tipping his head to the coffee table where two partially empty bottles of beer sat. “That’s right, Claire. He came to see me.”

  “Oh yeah?” I looked curiously at Nick, grinning. “Well, Scully and I were just going to watch television so don’t let me interrupt your bromance.”

  “Hey, Scully.” Nick waved, looking down between us before frowning. “Wow, your pants really are wet.”

  “Long story, follow me into my bedroom so I can change, and I’ll tell you about it.” I pulled on his shirt, yanking him toward my room.

  “Remember your breathing,” Scully called out after us.

  Nick shut the door, moving his hands over my body as he kissed me. “I’ll call Eric and cancel.”

  “No, don’t do that. You should go. I’m sure your brother is looking forward to seeing you.”

  Of course I wanted him to cancel, to spend the night with me like he had the other nights, but I knew he shouldn’t. Things had gotten so intense so quickly and it was probably for the best that we slowed down.

  Without asking, he lifted my T-shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor, his hands next going to my pants. “I really don’t care.”

  Initially the plan had been to go into my room, change out of my clothes and tell him about my day. And I wanted to hear about his day too, find out what inspired his impromptu visit. All of those things had been important, or at least they had been until he kissed me.

  My fingers fumbled with his T-shirt, tearing it off him while I kicked off my yoga pants. His kisses continued, trailing down my neck as he scooped me up in his arms and laid me on the bed.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” He lifted my arms above my head, running his fingers along my skin. “You have no idea how freaking crazy you make me.”

  “I can guess. Making people crazy is a specialty of mine.” I laughed, pulling him down on me.

  While his hands were all over me, I was still in my underwear and he was mostly still clothed. He made no effort to
further undress me, his lips taking a dip down my neck to the swell of my breasts.

  “You know this is easier when we’re naked.” My hands tugged at his pants. “We can be quick.”

  He raised his head, bringing his forehead to mine and rested it against me. “I don’t want to be quick with you.”

  The way he looked at me gave me goosebumps, my skin tingling as he hovered above me. I felt beautiful, precious, important, but most of all, wanted. I liked the way it felt, warming my body from the inside.

  “We’re not going to have sex are we?” I asked, running my fingers along the strong muscles of his back.

  “Trust me, I want to, but that wasn’t what I was here for.” He pushed himself up, kissing my nose as I shuffled up the bed.

  He turned, grabbing his T-shirt and pulled it back over his head. “I’m really bad at this, you know? The ‘relationship’ part of the relationship.”

  “What do you mean?” My arms folded across my chest, suddenly feeling cold.

  “I mean, I feel like all we ever do is hang out together at your place or mine. I think somewhere along the line, I forgot how to date.”

  It was true that since we’d been together, there hadn’t been a lot of typical dating behavior. Dinners had either been at my house or his, with our evenings spent holed up in a bedroom. But I understood it wasn’t so easy for us.

  “Nick, it’s okay, really, I understand. You’re you and I’m . . . well, I’m me. And we just can’t date like a regular couple. Not unless we want it documented by the press.”

  “Claire, you know eventually there are going to be photos. Who cares, we’re not doing anything wrong.”

  It was easier for him, he’d been in the spotlight for years. Not only with his own fame, but following in the footsteps of his famous brothers too. But for me, well it was different.

  “You know what they will say, right? That you could have done better.”

  It wasn’t insecurity—okay, not entirely insecurity—but the spotlight we were going to be under wasn’t going to be pretty. It didn’t bother me that his previous girlfriends had included models and actresses, or that by most people’s standards, I wouldn’t measure up. But he would need to answer those questions, justify why he’d rather be with an average nobody than a stunning, whatever-her-name-was.