Sweet on You

by Katana Collins

  And what if you aren’t fine? I squeezed my eyes shut, closing the proverbial curtain to my reflection. That little voice of doubt had been whispering for a week since I got the script for this audition.

  What if I’m only auditioning for this role to step out in front of the rumors? Because maybe if I show my tits and ass on screen, directors and producers will stop asking to see them in person? I rolled my eyes in spite of myself, pulling into a parking space.

  Yeah, because that’s how sex works. People see you in movies and stop fantasizing about fucking you. “This film is an amazing opportunity to show studios that I can do more than be a cute airhead on screen.”

  “You’re right,” Kyle said, his voice shifting into something harder. Business-like. “It’s an amazing opportunity and you’re a talented actress. Show them your vulnerable side. Just keep your nose clean in there. No sarcastic jokes, no flirting. Nothing. Keep it kosher.”

  I nodded, looking up at the tallest building in the lot. My butterfly-filled stomach flipped and a chill ran down my spine, despite LA's latest heat wave. Oh, God, keep it together.

  My nerves bounced as the reality of the upcoming audition hit me. I inhaled, taking the dry, warm air into my lungs and exhaled it slowly.

  “Marly?” Kyle prodded.

  “I'm nodding,” I said. Then, with another deep breath, I turned the car off. “All right, Kyle. I have to go or I'll be late.”

  The car locked with a beep and my heart fluttered as I entered through heavy glass doors with my planner tucked safely under my arm. “Stevens Casting?” I asked a young, beautiful woman sitting at the front desk and took note of her perfectly applied makeup and smooth golden hair. Aspiring actress perhaps? Hoping to get auditions through entry level work, most likely. I ran a hand through my own glossy locks, pulling all my red hair over to one shoulder.

  The girl pointed to the end of the hall. “Third door on the left,” she said, smacking her gum and flipping the page of a magazine.

  As I walked down the hall, anxiety jumped low within my belly … worse than the damn butterfly. So much worse. Slowly, the walls seemed to be encroaching, closing in around me. I fell against the wall, my back pressed against the cool paneling and took a deep breath, glancing at my phone. My stomach lurched and the time on the screen spun. I only had one minute to pull it together or be late going in.

  My stomach was in my throat as the wave of nausea rushed over me. I doubled over, putting my head between my knees. You'd think after hundreds of auditions, I'd be used to the nerves. And yet, here I was, bent over, nauseated with anxiety. The same ritual as always. After a few deep breaths, I opened my eyes. My knees trembled within my dark wash jeans and I swallowed the little bit of bile that rose in my throat with a hiccup.

  On a final deep breath, I pushed off the wall, making the move to enter the audition. Only that same cleansing breath caught in my throat when I lifted my gaze to find the famous Jude Fisher, American heartthrob and two-time Oscar winner, standing in front of me. Wow, he was magnificent. Everything from the top of his sandy brown hair, down his muscled physique, to his European loafer-covered toes.

  I inhaled once more, only this time I was met with his cool, spicy scent. A scent with hints of sandalwood and pine. Whatever that cologne was, it was fresh and clean and so made for this man, that the manufacturers should call it Eau du Jude Fisher. That smell sent tingles spiraling down my arms, along with his intensely heated gaze, directed right at me.

  He raised an eyebrow. His gaze flared within my already heated body and inside my peep toe heels, my toes curled in a motion that was so completely out of my control, I hadn't even realized I was doing it.

  My spine stiffened and I pulled myself to a standing position, a little too quickly. Stars flooded my vision. I cleared my throat, forcing my body not to sway with the dizziness as I distracted myself with smoothing my blazer. A ping came from my cell phone—the alarm signaling that I should be standing inside that audition room right this second. Shit, I was officially late.

  “You okay?” Jude asked, resting a hand to my elbow. The gentleness of his touch startled me more than the action itself. There was a power in its tenderness; a strength behind the gentle curve of his fingers. Despite the soft touch of his hand, his gaze was hard.

  I smiled, though it felt shaky, like my knees. “I'm fine—I just ... um ...” I pointed to the door. “I'm due in there for an audition.” Was that me speaking? My usual raspy, low voice had been replaced with a squeaking mouse.

  He flicked a glance over his shoulder toward the fridge in the common area. “I was getting some water—let me get you one,” it was a command, rather than a question. “They can wait a moment.” Thick lashes framed green eyes. Not dark like emeralds, but fair, like a light jade color that was so unique, I found myself entranced by his gaze.

  My throat was suddenly lined with cotton and I nodded, managing to rasp, “That would be great, thank you.”

  Those eyes assessed me for only a moment longer. I glanced away, busying myself with the false act of flipping through my planner. His gaze cut to the book in my hands, then back to my face. I could feel his stare, as sure as if it was his fingers brushing over my flesh. Finally, he stalked to the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles from the bottom shelf. Twisting the cap, he handed the first to me. “Drink,” he said quietly. “Have a seat if you need to.”

  I took a sip and as the cool water glided down my throat, I kept my eyes fastened on Jude. Dang, he was gorgeous. The top button of his crisp shirt was undone and the slightest bit of chest hair curled at the base of his throat. Once I swallowed, I gave him another smile, this time a little more confident. “Sorry about that,” I said. “I-I get nervous right before walking into an audition.”

  He nodded, taking a swig of his water as well, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

  When he said nothing more, the uncomfortable silence itched across my skin like an outbreak of chicken pox. “It never matters how prepared I am, either. I’ve spent the last week on FetLife prepping for this role; researching and joining chatrooms. Hell, I even watched BDSM porn. Preparation doesn’t stop the nerves. I've tried everything to calm myself before an audition—meditation, Alexander theory, a glass of wine. I even tried peeing right before. Nothing helps.” Oh, God, did I really just tell Jude freaking Fisher that I watch porn and pee before an audition to calm my nerves? Why was I still talking? Shut up, shut up, shut up ...

  His amused smirk tugged higher. “Feel better now?”

  Before I could answer, a small group of tourists walked by, phones up, snapping photos and video as the guide gestured to the closed doors. “This is where we hold many of our auditions …”

  Jude sucked a breath so sharp, his chest inflated with it. He spun, facing away from the crowd, dipping his head back into the refrigerator. But it was too late. An older woman pointed beside me to where Jude stood with his back to everyone. “Is that Ju—?”

  “That’s right!” I said, stepping in front of him. “Marlena Taylor here.” I don’t know why I did that. Why I jumped in to spare him the studio tour. Behind me, I heard the slow, relieved release of his breath. And something in that small sound ignited a fire low in my belly. Warmth spread from my core, stretching out around my torso and limbs and coiling around my spine. He had helped me moments ago and it was my turn to repay the favor. A small part of me delighted in it; delighted in helping him; in pleasing him. And that hit of pleasure was like an adrenaline shot to my veins.

  “Come on,” I said, waving the small group of five over to me. “Let’s get a selfie!”

  I hugged the crowd of smiling, laughing people into me. “One, two, three!” The snaps of their phones were comically loud.

  With another wave, the tour guide shuffled the group back down the hall.

  Jude turned, his face so close to mine, that I could see every crease framing his eyes. Every dark dot of stubble. “How did you …” He cleared his throat, his voice fading away a
nd as he shook his head, his scent breezed across me, surrounding my body like I was submerged in him. It left me breathless. “Thank you for that,” he said, his breath still heavy and deep. I’ve never been good in crowds, especially not since.…” He touched his watch with thick fingertips. “I’ve never been good in crowds.” And whatever he’d been about to reveal was swallowed along with his panic.

  For a few moments, I stared at his face. The dread was melting; dissolving like a single grain of sugar into a steaming beverage. Likewise, whatever anxiety I’d been feeling evaporated with helping Jude. “It was nothing.”

  Those jade green eyes flared, then softened, like a flame that had been stoked with a sharp gust of air. “It wasn’t nothing.” He touched his watch again, looking at the time. “And you’re now officially late for your audition.”

  “Oh, shit.” How had I forgotten? The whole damn reason I was here. The whole reason for Jude getting me the bottle of water. My audition. Placing my cool palm to my forehead, I sighed. “I'm gonna have to go in there and explain—”

  “No, you won’t,” he cut me off in a gravelly voice. Though his jaw was stern, his eyes were kind. Holding the door open, he gestured for me to enter, leaning in to whisper, “And … you should embrace that nervousness. Especially for a role like this one.”

  Jude placed a hand at the small of my back and guided me into the room. The heat of his touch permeated my clothing and I took another sip of water to calm the flush of heat spreading across my cheeks. Never in my life had I been starstruck—and yet, around this man, I became a stammering idiot.

  Wait a minute. He was coming into the audition with me? Why would he be doing that unless he was involved in casting—

  “Sorry, everyone,” Jude announced while entering the room, “I was trying to get a bottle of water when one of those backlot tours came through. Thank God for this girl—she saved me from an onslaught of selfies. Threw herself under the bus for me.” He offered me an encouraging smile before taking his chair at the long table of people ready and willing to tear my soul apart.

  Though the table of people acknowledged me, said hello, and welcomed me, there was an energetic wall. A wall that separated them from us—it was an unspoken audition rule that yes, they speak to you, but no, you are not on equal ground. And yet, Jude got me water. He helped me through my panic attack and I repaid the favor in the face of the crowd. And now, he sat at the table of power. He was both my peer and my superior. Both peasant and king. He knew how it was on both sides of the aisle and his kindness, his humbleness touched some flame deep inside me that I’d been almost positive Hollywood had long ago tamped out.

  A woman stood at the end of the table and held out a hand. “I’m Nicole Stevens,” she said, then quickly directed me to another man who stood from behind the table.

  He took my hand and offered a lopsided grin, curly red hair flopping over onto his plastic rectangle glasses. “I'm Seth, an executive producer. This is Ash Livingston—he'll be directing the film.” He continued down the line of people, introducing them one by one until he finally reached Jude. “And of course, I'm sure you know Jude Fisher already. He'll be playing the role of Leo.”

  Jude hadn't torn his eyes from me since we had entered. I felt his stare, heady and electric through every handshake and pleasantry. And now we were face to face, shaking hands. While every other member at the table sat behind their glass wall, he sat on top, teetering over the edge. I swallowed and it felt like a ball of yarn going down a sand paper tunnel. “Yes, of course. Thanks again for the water.”

  “Here you go,” Seth handed me the audition sides. “Jude will be reading opposite you today.”

  I gulped and my knees locked. Jude terrified me in a way I couldn't describe. Our chemistry was as palpable as an active volcano and I was the lava, ready to erupt at any moment.

  Seth continued, walking around the table and taking his seat. “Today's audition is just all about the chemistry. We want to see you—well, Holly, submissive to Leo. We want to see sparks.”

  Sparks? The way I was feeling inside, I could give them a freaking Fourth of July fireworks display.

  Seth grinned. “And … off you go.”

  Grab it here on Amazon!