The Real Thing (Sugar Lake Book 1)

by Melissa Foster

  “Oh no, babe. Four weeks? Can’t you pull some strings?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. I’m a mere mortal.”

  “Well, I’m not. Let me see what I can do.” He made a mental note to check into it.

  Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “I met Remi! We’re having dinner with her Friday night.”

  He laughed at her non sequitur. Gotta love tipsy Willow. “Sounds great. She seems like a nice person.”

  “Super nice. Do you know what a fluffer is? In porn, I mean?”

  “Um. Is this the type of trick question girls ask to turn around on guys? Like if I say I do, then you get mad because I’ve probably watched porn?”

  She grabbed his face. “No. I assume you’ve watched porn. But no one is fluffing you, got it?”

  He rocked his hips beneath her. “You’re all I want or need, baby.”

  “Good. As long as we’re clear.”

  “Perfectly clear, sweet cheeks. But you can fluff me after I shower.” He pulled her T-shirt—his T-shirt, he realized—off her shoulder and kissed her there.

  She wiggled her butt, fluffing him right up.

  “Are you too tipsy to read a scene in the screenplay for me?” He’d decided to show the screenplay to the director, and he hoped to give it to him tomorrow. Steve Hileberg might be a hothead perfectionist, but he was without a doubt the best director in the business. Getting Steve on board with the project was the first step toward moving forward.

  “No.” She watched him flipping the pages. “But I don’t want to skip ahead to the end.”

  He’d covered his muse pretty well by mixing up the locations and particulars of the story. But he knew the girl who’d taught herself calculus by reading a book would see right through it. And he wanted her to, so there was no chance for miscommunication. He folded the screenplay over and pointed to the beginning of a scene. “Just read this scene for me, okay, beautiful? I’m going to shower real quick.”

  She slid off his lap and pulled him down for another kiss. “I like Remi. I’m glad you have a nice costar.”

  “Thanks, baby. I’m glad I have you.”

  He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, shaving at the sink as the room steamed up. He stripped out of his clothes and stepped beneath the warm spray, tipping his face up to catch the rain. His mind ran through all the possible reactions Willow might have to the scene. When Willow was in high school, one of the football players had asked her out. Zane remembered how proud she’d been. Her green eyes had twinkled with delight. She’d always thought of herself as awkward and a brainiac, but he knew better, as did half the guys in their school. But of all her luck, the asshole who had asked her out, Butch Clayborne, had proceeded to run his mouth in the locker room after football practice. He’d bragged about asking her out to “get a piece of ass,” among other parts of her, which had sent fire through Zane’s veins. Even in remembrance his fingers curled into fists. He’d waited for the rest of the team to clear out, and he’d grabbed the asshole by the collar and shoved him against the lockers. You’re not going out with Willow. You’re not to talk to her ever again. And if I hear you so much as mention her name, I will kill you. They hadn’t come to blows, but Zane would have taken him down without thought. What he hadn’t counted on was how upset Willow had been for being stood up. He hadn’t told her what he’d done because she’d already felt self-conscious about her breasts, and the last thing she’d needed was to think guys believed she was only good enough for sex, when in reality it was only the scum of the earth who treated women like that. He should have told the asshole to cancel the date, but he’d been too pissed off to think straight.

  He pressed his palms against the tiles, the water streaming down his back, and prayed Willow wouldn’t hate him for what he’d done. The scene in the screenplay wasn’t the same, but he’d left enough clues. And if she didn’t get it because she was too tipsy, he’d tell her outright. But he had faith in his beautiful, brilliant girl.

  When the shower door opened, he hesitated before looking over, taking one last second to throw a plea up to the powers that be. She stepped into the shower, raw hurt glittering in her eyes, slicing through him like a knife.

  “Wills—”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest. Her lush, naked curves molded to his body, arousing more than just his heart.

  “The lunar eclipse,” she said softly.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I should have told you.” The night the date was supposed to occur, there had been a lunar eclipse. The whole town had gone to the fairgrounds to witness it, but he’d found Willow down by the creek behind her parents’ house. Her thinking spot. Two years later, that spot had become theirs.

  Her delicate fingers trailed along his back, and she gazed up at him. “I’m glad you didn’t. It would have mortified me, and there’s nothing I hate more than being embarrassed. That’s why you came looking for me that night. I remember. You said my mom was worried about me and you offered to go find me.”

  He nodded. “One day when Ben and I were playing basketball, you said you were going to the creek to read. I saw you heading for the woods a few weeks later, and Ben said that you went to the creek to think. When you didn’t show up with everyone else at the fairgrounds that night, baby, I assumed you were there.”

  Her hands slid to his ass, holding her body firmly against him and making him hard as steel. “You really have loved me forever.”

  “I’m pretty sure we’ve determined that you’ve had me since I first set eyes on you.”

  “Do you remember the very first time you saw me?” She swayed against him and flicked her tongue over his nipple.

  “I can barely think when you do that, much less retrieve a memory from so long ago.”

  She sucked the pebbled peak into her mouth, and he groaned, backing her up against the wall. When she clamped her teeth around the sensitive nub, he pushed her legs open with his knee and thrust the head of his arousal against her center.

  “Fuck, baby.” He rocked his hips, teasing her slick flesh. “I don’t have a condom, and I want to make love to you so badly.”

  “I’m on the pill and clean,” she said urgently. “But the question is, are you?” She was breathing as hard as he was.

  His pulse skyrocketed. “Yes. I wouldn’t have let you put your mouth on me if I wasn’t.”

  All his blood rushed south as he lifted her into his arms, unable to wait another second to make love to her. Water ran like a river between her breasts as her legs wound around his waist. He loved the feel of her warm thighs against him and her hands on his cheeks as her tight heat swallowed his shaft. Their mouths came together in a smoldering, greedy kiss. She clutched at his shoulders, moving with him in a mind-numbing rhythm. Lust and love pulsed through his veins as they quickened their efforts. More, his body demanded, thrusting harder, kissing rougher, almost violently, needing to be even closer. Her back met the wall as he drove into her. He broke away from the kiss to make sure she was okay, but she crashed her mouth to his, giving him the green light he needed. He sped through that sucker, eating at her mouth, slamming into her time and time again, driven by the heat pooling at the base of his spine. Pressure mounted with every sweet moan. Her head tipped back, and he took her breast into his mouth, sucking and teasing the peak.

  “Z—harder. So good—”

  Hearing her desires took him right up to the edge of sanity. He sucked harder, and she cried out, gasping for breath. Her inner muscles pulsed around him, and his release crashed over him, pulling him under, drowning him in ecstasy.

  Her body shuddered with aftershocks, and he moved her beneath the warm water.

  “Z,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, sweetheart. Did I hurt your back?”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder. “No. I just want you to know, I love that it took us so long to finally come together.”

  He pressed his lips to hers and lowered her feet to the floor, holding he
r close as they rinsed off. “Why? I wish we had all those years together.”

  “Because you’ve had time to become the man you are, and I’ve had time to become the person I am. And those feelings are still here, only stronger. And now you’ve written a story about us, straight from your heart. Nothing could be more perfect than that.”

  “You’re wrong, baby. As cheesy as it sounds, every day we’re together will be more perfect than the last, because every day I’m learning how to be a better man for you.”

  “You’re the king of cheesy,” she teased.

  “I love you, too. Now finish up so I can take you home and devour you properly.” He smacked her ass.

  She squealed and spun out of his arms. Her gaze turned sinfully seductive as she cupped his balls and said, “Why wait?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  PATCH LOADED UP a plate with gluten-free pancakes, breakfast pizza, and fruit Friday morning as he pleaded with Payton to put in a good word and get Willow hired to cater all the future set breakfasts. He looked like a rebellious teenager with his black jeans, shock of brown hair sticking up in all directions, and strands of leather and silver wrapped around his wrist. Willow knew he and Piper had met for drinks, and when Piper came by that morning, she’d claimed that was all they’d had. Willow tried to picture Zane’s chilled-out assistant in a relationship with her high-strung sister, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t see it. She had a feeling they were both barking up the wrong tree. Then again, until she and Zane had come together with this zany plan and cleared the air, she might never have visualized the two of them in a lasting relationship, either.

  “Come on, Payton. Can’t you pull some strings?” He took a big bite of the pizza and closed his eyes. “Mm. Willow Dalton, you are amazing.”

  “Thank you, but I have a bakery to run, remember?” Willow had picked up a new wedding cake job last night, and she’d spent half the night coming up with ideas. Her love for baking had only increased since she’d started her business, but the truth was, she loved spending the mornings on set, too. The cast and crew were friendly, funny, and appreciative of every little thing she did, which made her want to branch out and do more, like adding pancakes and pizza for restricted diets to the menu. She’d never considered herself much of a cook beyond baking, but their praise had her considering expanding the bakery menu in addition to her other ideas. She could hardly believe the week of filming had passed so fast. Tonight she and Zane, along with Bridgette and Ben, were having dinner with Remi and her brother, and tomorrow morning they were heading back to LA. This weekend she would see Zane on his turf, in his home. She was nervous and excited to see how the man she’d come to love more than she’d ever thought possible fit into a world she had such conflicting feelings about.

  “Details, details,” Patch teased. He draped an arm over her shoulder and lowered his voice. “Maybe I can get Zane to convince you by some other means.”

  Little did he know that no matter how amazing sex with Zane was, it wasn’t her motivator to do a darn thing. It was the look in Zane’s eyes, the loving pitch of his voice—even when he was teasing—and the complete and utter happiness he instilled with nothing more than a smile or a shrug. It was crazy how much she loved that humble shrug.

  Payton tucked her long red hair behind her ear. “Willow knows I’d happily take her on as a regular. You might be interested to know that we’re going to be ordering gifts throughout the year from her, so be a good boy and maybe I’ll send you something sweet.”

  “They’re setting up for the kissing scene down by the lake. Are you going to watch?” Patch asked as they walked out of the tent.

  Willow glanced at the commotion taking place down the hill. She had surprised herself this morning when she’d told Zane to “kiss the hell out of Remi,” and she’d meant it. Being with Zane had opened her eyes to a lot of things, but one of her biggest realizations was that her mother had been right. Every kiss counted. Last night Willow had finally gotten up the courage to read the scenes leading up to the kiss and the actual kissing scene. She’d found herself rooting for the characters, hoping they’d get together, just like she had with Zane’s screenplay.

  “Of course,” she answered. “This is a pivotal scene, and I definitely don’t want to miss it. Keisha offered to take care of things here so I could go down and watch.”

  “Cool,” Patch said. “I’ll see you down there. Remi has nixed an audience, so once they’re set up, only key people will be allowed on set. You’re with me, so you’re cool. If anyone gives you a hard time, just tell them to speak with me.”

  “Thanks, Patch.” Willow watched him head down the hill and wondered about Remi’s request. She really must hate kissing scenes after all.

  “Ever wonder what it’s like?” Payton asked as they returned to the tent.

  Willow busied herself straightening up the tables. “Hm? What what’s like?”

  “For the actors? The kissing scenes?”

  Yes, way too much. “Remi said she hates them.”

  Payton poured herself a cup of coffee. “Imagine you wake up feeling cranky, or bloated, or stressed about forgetting your lines. Then you get to the set, and the makeup artists are fussing with your face and hair, wardrobe is nipping and tucking, and across the set you see this incredibly hot guy. But he’s People’s Most Beautiful or he’s won an Oscar, or he’s an actor you haven’t worked with before. Other than your work on the current film together, all of which has been stressful, he’s basically a stranger. And you can flip that around for the guys, because it’s just as bad.”

  “Gosh, and when I see it on the big screen, it seems so easy.”

  “Want to know another trade secret that’ll burst your bubble?” She waggled her brows with a mischievous grin that reeled Willow’s curiosity right in.

  “You know I do.” She leaned in closer.

  “Okay, well, in the love scenes, not only are they often in full-body makeup, but the guy puts all his goodies in this flesh-colored bag and the girl wears a vag pad, which is stuck to her skin, covering up her naughty bits. And there’s often fake sweat and fifty crew members watching and the director telling them, ‘Move your hand, lift your leg, don’t smile.’ It’s awful. I’d never want to be an actress because of those scenes.”

  “A flesh-colored bag?” Willow couldn’t suppress a laugh. “That sounds horrible. But it shows how good the actors and actresses are. Most love scenes look natural.”

  “That’s why they get paid the big bucks.” Payton popped a blueberry in her mouth. “You’d better get down there if you want to see the scene.”

  Willow walked down the hill toward the set, acutely aware of her heart ricocheting inside her chest. She’d convinced herself not to worry about this scene, but now that it was imminent, she was torn by conflicting emotions. She tried to distract herself by focusing on her surroundings.

  A group of people traipsed up the hill a good distance away, and she wondered if they’d been sent away from the set. There were only a handful of people within the cordoned-off area. Zane came into focus, standing tall and handsome while one woman applied makeup and a guy fussed with his clothes. She recalled what Payton had said and wondered if all of the preparation and fussing was uncomfortable for him. Was he nervous about the kiss? If so, he’d been too cool to let her in on his anxiety, but still she had to wonder.

  She knew a loving kiss and a kiss given to fulfill a work commitment were miles apart, but no matter how supportive a fiancée she wanted to be, she was still a sensitive female. Wasn’t it in every woman’s fiber to be possessive of her partner? To nurture and care for, yes, and to have and to hold? Nowhere was it written that a significant other had to support in the sharing of their partner’s toe-curling kisses.

  Patch waved Willow over, and Zane’s gaze landed on her. She felt his sexual magnetism and his eager affection encircling her like a blanket. Inhaling a deep breath, she reached for her inner calm. Then she dug a little deeper,
past her conflicted, jealous heart, all the way to her core, where reason rose above all else, and prepared herself to watch her man kiss another woman.

  IF ZANE HEARD one more Go get her, buddy, he was going to lose his shit. Jesus, they’d built this scene up to epic proportions, as if there wasn’t pressure to do every scene as perfectly as possible. He’d come to the realization that this was it for him. The end of the line. Changing genres hadn’t given him any better sense of fulfillment than acting in action movies had. Did all actors eventually feel like they were playing with water instead of working with clay? No matter how different the set, the cast, the location, it was all still pretending to be someone another person had created. Yes, he was bringing the character to life, but it was still carrying out someone else’s vision. It was time to take the next step, and after handing his script over to the director this morning, he hoped like hell luck would be on his side. If Steve liked the screenplay, anything was possible.

  He took his place on the set, mentally playing over his lines and hoping Remi had pulled herself together. She’d been a nervous wreck, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like they were hijacking a plane and jumping out midair. That was something to be nervous about. This was a piece of cake.

  Thinking of cake brought his mind to his beautiful girl. He popped an Altoid and stole a quick glance at Willow, who was talking with Patch. He should be pissed at his loose-lipped assistant for spilling his secrets about his house and what was—and what had never been—in it. But it was hard to be angry at the guy who’d helped bring him and Willow together in the first place. Like a kid awaiting show-and-tell, Zane couldn’t wait to show her his place.

  “Quiet on the set!”

  Steve’s voice snapped Zane into acting mode, but as he caught sight of Remi nervously fidgeting with her hands, the part of him that should want to do whatever it took to make her comfortable sort of wanted to give her a little shake and say, It’s a kiss. Lighten up.

  It was definitely time to get out of this business before he turned into an asshole.