She powered her way toward the coffee shop with a speed and determination that made other people get out of her way. Her sneakers slammed onto the asphalt as if it were personally responsible for his condescending attitude.
The guy had given her a concussion and hadn’t apologized, but she’d tried to start the job with a good attitude. To be friendly and show him she understood some of the challenges he faced. For a moment she thought she’d gotten through to him, but then he’d slammed her back into her place. That would teach her to be nice to jerkwad movie stars.
Why do I even want to be friendly to him? Maybe it was as simple as physical attraction. I’m not immune to the lure of a handsome face…and that body: sculpted muscles, lean build, lightly tanned skin…
She heard herself sigh.
Stop it! Stop it!
It was just hormones talking—and years of cultural programming. Guys like William Darcy are the prize women are supposed to shoot for. Tall, dark, handsome, rich, and famous. The whole package. The perfect formula. The fuel for hundreds of women’s fantasies.
There would be no harm in fantasizing if she only saw him on the silver screen or if she just had a few posters pinned to her wall. But working with him…seeing him every day… It gave the illusion that he was accessible—and worse, desirable.
I want something different out of a guy, she reminded herself sternly. I want someone who will laugh at my jokes. Someone who can be a shoulder to cry on. Someone who can feel compassion instead of faking it.
What she didn’t need was some self-absorbed, pretty boy. A guy who epitomized everything she hated about Hollywood: the shallowness, the obsession with fame, and the nonstop quest for a good time. Will was particularly guilty of the last sin; look at what had happened in Palm Springs.
Granted, he was taking steps to redeem his image, but he didn’t seem to feel any actual remorse—any more than he regretted causing her concussion.
If only it weren’t so hard to forget those blue eyes.
God, no wonder movie stars got laid so easily. She’d known him William for a week, and even though he had the personality of a rock, she couldn’t stop the fantasies from spinning out in her head.
Every woman in the country wants the guy. What makes me special?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. At least nothing that Darcy would value. He’d already made that abundantly clear.
Okay, I can do this. I can combat the Darcy effect. Every time I see him, I’ll just keep my eyes averted. That way I won’t stare, and I won’t be so attracted to him. And I won’t inhale, so I can’t smell his unbelievably sexy masculine scent. And I will ignore the way his mellow baritone sends shivers down my spine…
All right, this is getting ridiculous.
No, William Darcy didn’t deserve to be taking up real estate in her head. If he wanted to be self-centered and heartless, that was his prerogative. She just had to focus on being his personal assistant until they replaced her.
She raged all the way to the coffee shop. I could just quit. The thought gave her a momentary sense of relief. But no, her father needed her to do this. She had rent and medical school application fees to pay. She didn’t have time to search for another job and couldn’t afford to be unemployed.
She felt like a caged tiger throwing herself against the bars over and over, knowing there was no hope yet unable to completely abandon the search for an escape.
It’s only six weeks. I can grin and bear it for six weeks, can’t I?
She’d just have to find little reasons for satisfaction when she could. She stalked through the entrance to the coffee shop. She had to be the man’s personal assistant; it was her job.
Of course, she didn’t have to actually be good at it.
Elizabeth had an excellent memory. She could recall exactly what Darcy had asked for. “Decaf, double whip, soy cappuccino, please,” she told the bored girl behind the counter.
She smiled to herself as they whipped up the drink.
Or maybe she should have made it tea.
***
They were in the middle of a multi-day shoot of an extended hospital scene. Jordan arrives, badly injured, at the local hospital. They were filming her arrival, with Jane Bennet lying on a gurney in a scene full of extras who helped to simulate a big-city ER. Neither Darcy nor Charlie were needed at the moment, so they were sitting on the side, watching the action. Occasionally, Perez would call in one of them for a close-up, but most of the time the two men had been shooting the breeze. Darcy took a sip of his coffee.
Ugh.
He nearly spit it out.
Charlie glanced over. “Elizabeth got your coffee order wrong again?”
“I just asked for plain coffee this time. I figured nobody could mess that up.” Over the past week, Elizabeth had been an exemplary personal assistant, probably the best he’d ever had. Detail-oriented and organized, she had managed everything on the set with a cheerful attitude and an almost preternatural ability to anticipate his needs. She was even a good actress—talented enough that he sought out opportunities to run lines with her.
But she never got Darcy’s coffee order right. When he asked for cappuccino, he got an espresso. When he asked for an espresso, he got a latte. When he asked for tea, he got a Frappuccino-like beverage. Darcy would suspect it was deliberate, but Elizabeth was always so very apologetic. She would return his order to the coffee shop any number of times, but the replacement order was never right—even when he wrote it down.
Removing the plastic lid, Darcy stared into his paper cup. It resembled coffee with cream, but… He sniffed it. “I think it has almond milk or cashew butter or something in it. It smells nutty.”
“Nutella?”
“God, I hope not.”
“She has to be messing with you.”
“No way.” Charlie didn’t recognize the worshipful look in Elizabeth’s eyes, but Darcy did. He’d tried being cool and distant and professional, but she was still enamored. She didn’t even say much to him—too tongue-tied in his presence. He’d seen it before. Obviously she became so nervous about something as personal as coffee that she simply couldn’t remember his order. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so frustrating. “She wouldn’t risk her job.”
Even though Elizabeth was the producer’s daughter, risking Darcy’s ire could sink her career forever. She wasn’t that foolish. “The next time Jeff makes a coffee run, could he get something for me?” he asked Charlie, whose personal assistant got his coffee order perfect each time.
Charlie snorted. “Sure.”
His friend’s attention was focused on the scene in front of them. Lydia Bennet’s character, a waitress in the hospital’s restaurant, had been given some additional lines, much to the actress’s delight. In this scene, she gives Thorne a cup of coffee and then runs after him when he doesn’t pay. They had already filmed Darcy’s part of the shot, but Perez was having difficulty pulling any usable line readings out of Lydia. “Louder,” the director insisted. “You’re trying to get his attention.”
Lydia nodded, an expression of earnest concentration on her face. Perez retreated to stand next to the camera operator and called for action.
“You didn’t pay for your coffee,” Lydia said flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes at an unseen Eric Thorne. There was nothing loud or urgent about her delivery.
“Cut!” Perez shouted.
Darcy leaned toward his friend. “Her acting would make Ed Wood cringe.” Charlie laughed into his coffee.
Franny Bennet, her bright pink lips pursed tightly together and her bleached curls jiggling with each step, marched up to Perez.
“Oh good lord,” Charlie muttered.
“Roberta, I don’t see what was wrong with that take.” Lydia’s mother’s voice was high-pitched and screechy. “It was nuanced. It was perfect.”
“The whole family is a menace on a film set,” Darcy muttered.
“Jane isn’t,” Charlie said with a lascivious smile.
�
��Very true.” Jane Bennet’s performance was magnificent. “And neither is—” Darcy cut himself off. It was best if he didn’t say anything about Elizabeth, or Charlie might recognize he viewed her a little differently. It was only because she had that silly crush on him.
Charlie was waiting for Darcy to finish his thought. “…Tom,” he said lamely and then hurried to qualify his words. “Yeah, he’s a bit absent-minded, but he pulled the production together.”
“I guess.” Charlie shrugged.
They shot the sequence again; however, Lydia’s performance changed very little. “Cut and print!” Perez announced.
“She’s actually going to use one of those takes?” Darcy was horrified.
Charlie leaned closer to Darcy. “Roberta told me Lydia’s sequence wasn’t ‘integral’ to the flow of the narrative.”
“Ah. Straight to the director’s cut.”
“I’m not sure Roberta would even want it in the deleted scenes. Maybe the whole thing will be ‘accidentally’ erased.” They both laughed.
Charlie was soon needed on the set to shoot the next sequence. Darcy had his script in hand and was trying out different line readings but found his attention drawn to Elizabeth. She was by the craft services table with a woman from the catering company. They chatted frequently, and Darcy assumed they were friends.
Why am I so distracted by Elizabeth?
She was his personal assistant. It was her job to be aware of him. Not the other way around. Resolutely, Darcy returned his gaze to the script in his lap; if she noticed how she drew his attention, it might give her the wrong idea.
After a few minutes Darcy could sense Elizabeth walking in his direction. He tried to ignore the dangerous excitement in his stomach, refusing to lift his head until she was practically on top of him.
“Hey, Will?” she said as she approached. Her informality had been a bit of a shock at first, but now it was rather endearing. “Do you know where the prop briefcase is?”
“Doesn’t Reggie have it?”
“He has the other one, not the one you’re using.” There was only a hint of longing in her eyes.
“Sorry. I don’t have the foggiest idea.”
With a brisk nod, she hurried away. She was quite accomplished at concealing her infatuation. Darcy admired her acting skills. But he knew she’d start getting weird and clingy; they all did eventually. Then he’d have to push her away, possibly losing a good assistant. An excellent assistant. It was a shame.
He returned to studying his script, but after a few minutes Charlie dropped back into his chair. “Lord, that woman is annoying,” he muttered, gesturing to Lydia. Darcy nodded. “How would you rate her?”
This was a game Charlie played, rating the women on the set. Darcy wasn’t a particularly enthusiastic participant, but it passed the time.
“I don’t know,” Darcy said carelessly. He’d never really thought of Lydia Bennet that way. “Six…no, five.”
“Really?” Charlie peered in her direction. “I’d give her at least an eight. She’s gorgeous.”
Lydia’s infatuation with Darcy was of a fundamentally different nature. Elizabeth wanted his soul. Lydia just wanted to be his arm candy. “Are you kidding?” he asked his friend. “Five minutes with her would be like sandpaper under your skin. After one night she’d turn into a stage five clinger and expect to go everywhere with you.”
Charlie eyed Lydia as she “acted” on the set. “Ugh. You’re probably right.”
From the corner of his eye, Darcy noticed Elizabeth—apparently still searching for the missing briefcase—duck behind a curtain. Running right behind their chairs, the curtain created a separate area where props were stored. Darcy couldn’t see her, but he could feel the breeze of her passage and guess where she was. He could have reached out and poked her.
Apparently oblivious, Charlie kept talking. “You know who’s a ten? Jane Bennet. She’s a knockout.”
If you liked them thin, quiet, and smiley. “She’s not my type.” Darcy was very aware that Elizabeth could hear every word but couldn’t think how to warn Charlie.
“Man, she is so totally my type. If she weren’t busy, I’d be over there chatting her up instead of hanging out with your sorry ass.”
“Gee, thanks,” Darcy said with no heat.
Charlie shrugged. “You know where my priorities are.”
Darcy certainly did. Getting laid was Charlie’s prime directive, no matter where he was. Actually, he was demonstrating unusual restraint by only pursuing one woman on set—so far. “Are you sure Jane is your type? She’s so…quiet.”
Charlie rubbed his hands together. “Oh yeah. Set phasers on stun. She won’t know what hit her!”
Darcy said nothing. Jane didn’t seem like the casual-sex-on-the-set type of actress, but that was her lookout. “What score would you give Elizabeth?” Charlie asked with a cheeky grin.
Darcy froze, aware that Elizabeth was right behind them, no doubt hearing every word. On the other hand, maybe this was his chance to kill her nascent infatuation. That would be for the best, wouldn’t it? He could have a more professional relationship with her—free from worries that she was hoping for a kiss or an invitation to dinner.
He squelched a surprising pang of regret. If she thought there was any chance, it would get her hopes up. Everything would get awkward and weird. It would be better if she knew where she stood now, before her crush developed into full-blown infatuation.
Closing his eyes, Darcy recalled his initial impression when he viewed her lying on the studio sidewalk. “Three, maybe four.”
Charlie gave a low whistle. “You’re harsh. I think she’s pretty.” She is. More than pretty. Beautiful. “Is this just because she messes up your coffee?”
“It’s more than that. She’s…” Funny, intelligent. “There just isn’t much going on upstairs, you know?” I shouldn’t have said that. It was utter blasphemy. She had to be the smartest personal assistant he’d ever had—even one of the smartest people he knew. But it was too late to take it back now.
A muffled thump sounded behind them. Darcy winced, knowing it was probably Elizabeth. Charlie turned his head at the noise, but Darcy directed his attention to the set. “What do you think Perez is asking Len to do?”
While Charlie was distracted, Darcy felt a whoosh of air as Elizabeth rushed out from behind the curtain. He repressed a sudden, stupid impulse to leap up and confess his lies and kept his eyes averted.
A few seconds later, he stole a casual look in her direction. Elizabeth was striding away from him at a ground-eating pace, without a briefcase.
***
Elizabeth scurried across the set, ignoring the protests of her bruised knee and silently saying thanks that Charlie and Will didn’t notice her. If Will knew she had overheard him, it would have been mortifying. More mortifying.
Banging her knee on the fake rock had almost given her away. Fortunately, nobody had ducked behind the curtain to investigate.
It was all so bizarre. Rating women like that was like a parody of frat boys in a coming-of-age movie. Of course, she expected some people in Hollywood to be shallow, but she hadn’t thought…she hadn’t thought Darcy would be that shallow.
It was odd. She had first pegged him as a typical Hollywood asshole, but her opinion had improved while working with him. She’d been impressed with his professionalism, and he’d treated her with respect. I just temporarily forgot what a jerk he’d been when we first met.
Now her memory had been jogged.
The words about her appearance were only a little disturbing; she knew she wasn’t the prettiest Bennet sister. But he had insulted her intelligence, her competence…after she’d been managing his on-set life for two weeks. He’d gotten the right script changes, the correct schedule updates, and all the director’s notes. He hadn’t thanked her, but he also hadn’t complained. Yeah, she got his coffee orders wrong, but surely by now he’d realize she was trolling him.
Maybe the coffee th
ing mattered more than she thought. Or maybe attractiveness was the only quality that counted in his world. Or maybe he resented that she hadn’t joined his cult of personality, complete with screaming and fainting whenever he drew near.
Why did I allow myself to think—for even one second—that he would be different from everyone else in Hollywood? I was deluding myself.
She supposed she should put the movie ahead of her personal feelings, be a “professional” and rise above the pettiness. But screw that; she wasn’t angling for a career in Hollywood. She didn’t need to swallow all the BS.
Apparently she had reached her limit.
On the far side of the set, her father watched as Roberta positioned some of the cameras. Elizabeth stood beside him and spoke in a low voice. “Dad, did you say you have a new PA coming on board this week?”
Her father started a bit, the way he always did when asked to switch gears. “Yeah. His name is Kurt, a real newbie. Eager to please, but he’s never worked on a set before.”
Perfect. “Can you assign him to Darcy and put me somewhere else? I don’t care where—as long as I’m not his assistant anymore.”
She had her father’s full attention now. “I thought things were going well. He’s been on time, hasn’t complained…”
Perhaps she didn’t need to tell her father the whole humiliating experience, but then she might not convince him. So she set the scene, related the story, and even did a passable imitation of Darcy’s voice when she quoted his insult.
Fortunately, she hadn’t expected any empathy from her father. He laughed. “Well, my dear, when you’ve been rejected by People’s Sexiest Man, you’ve really been rejected.”
Her cheeks burned, but she strove for a bored tone of voice. “I guess so.”
“It’ll be something to tell the grandchildren.”
Right after I describe how I strangled my father. “That’ll be a fun family event,” she said sourly. “‘Let’s all gather around the fireplace, and I’ll tell you about the time that Grandma was mocked by a famous movie star.’”
Her father’s eyebrows drew together in bewilderment. “You can’t take these things personally, Lizzy.”
Darcy in Hollywood Page 6