Adapted for Film

by Stacey Rourke

  “Cue lights and roll sound!” Kole hollered. The set brightened to a midday glow. A soundtrack of sweet singing birds and the trickle of an active babbling brook added ambiance to the majestic scene. “Annnd, action!”

  Completely in character, “Aiden” led “Paige” to the gazebo. They paused for a moment to marvel at a butterfly sipping from the bird bath—that wasn’t really there, but would probably be computer generated in during post production.

  Instinctively, my mouth moved in time with the actor’s as they recited the words I’d written.

  Paige – “We shouldn’t be here, you heard what the studio said. If they find out, you could lose everything. Aiden, I can’t let you take that risk.”

  Aiden – (Turning to face her, he gathered her hands in his and peppered them with kisses.) “Let them take it all. I would trade everything I am, and all that I have, to spend one more minute with you.”

  “You know,” Tandy leaned in to whisper in my ear, her stare never leaving the unfolding scene, “if this whole writer thing doesn’t work out, you could script pick-up lines for guys without game. I guarantee you could get some computer geeks laaaiid.”

  “Where do you think I got the money to contribute to the production costs?”

  Aiden tenderly slid his hands up Paige’s arms, brushing over her cheeks until he cradled her face between his palms. “Every moment of my life, every trial that I’ve faced, I would gladly endure again, because they all led me to you.”

  Tears welled in Paige’s eyes—kudos to Willa on that one—as she caught one of his hands and attempted to extract herself from the bliss of his touch. “Because I remind you of Sydney. I’m not her, Aiden, and I will never be able to fill the void she left in your heart.”

  “No,” Aiden stated, his chest expanding with the intensity of his declaration. “She reminded me of you, I just didn’t know it then. You share the same enchanting beauty, and that’s where the similarities end. You possess a tender innocence that life stole from her long before we met. It’s that innocence and unsophisticated, natural grace that I fell in love with. I will never belittle what she and I shared. Even so, I see it for what it was now. Sydney was fate’s way of pointing me in the direction of where I was meant to be—with you.”

  “Aiden,” Paige gasped. Her lips trembled, her voice heavy with desire.

  Snaking one hand around her waist, he crushed her body to his and claimed her lips. Her clawed hands raked across his back, earning a low, appreciative growl that bubbled up his throat.

  Glancing around, I found several of the women in the room fanning themselves as the heat in the room hitched up a few passion-filled degrees. Meanwhile, I was gnawing on my bottom lip and trying to figure out how a perfectly staged scene had veered so far off course.

  The actors lost themselves in the sizzling chemistry of the moment, the script all but forgotten. “Paige” morphed back to Willa, her fingers weaving into Greyson’s golden strands and tugging hard. Her back arched into him, her breasts heaving as a breathy sigh escaped her reddened lips.

  “Aiden’s” simmering heat boiled over into Greyson’s raging desire. While one hand kept her body molded to his, the other followed the dip of her waist, down to the curve of her hip. Hooking his fingers just above the back of her knee, he drew her leg up to wrap around him. A roll of his hips and he nestled himself between her thighs.

  Mateo picked that moment to saunter in, adjusting the black driving gloves wardrobe had fitted him with as he walked. “They’re shootin’ some sort of TV show about teenage superheroes next door. There’s an old lady in the cast rockin’ a leopard-print bikini. Reminded me of my mimaw.” Glancing up, he froze at the spectacle the rest of us were gaping at like a slow-motion train wreck. “Whoa. My ese, Miguel, shoots movies like this in his basement. Nice, though, that you guys are makin’ it all classy and shit.”

  “All right! Cut!” Kole hollered. Rising to his feet, he flung his headphones on to the seat behind him, irritation clenching its way across his jawline.

  Tandy rose right along with him. Skirting around her chair, she seized Mateo by the shoulders and spun him away from the NC-17 scene. “You don’t need to see this. If you become any more of a horn-dog we won’t be able to allow you on the furniture.”

  Scooping up his megaphone, Kole clicked it to life with a rush of static. “Cut, dammit!” he bellowed at the twosome still locked in their compromising hold. “I will turn the hose on you!”

  When they didn’t budge, he dropped the mega-phone to his side and shot Duncan a stern glare. “Get the watering hose and see if you can get the damned thing above the soft mist setting.”

  I didn’t want to trudge over to Kole’s side and get involved just to defend my characters’ honor. I wanted to respect our newfound friendship and trust that he would handle the matter effectively. Unfortunately, Greyson and Willa’s fevered smacking and panting compelled my livid creative muse forward by no fault of my own. Our truce had lasted … what, three hours? That was more than some people got in a lifetime. We’d had a good run.

  Before I could utter even a syllable, Art darted forward to insert himself directly between Kole and me, close enough for me to get a whiff of the pungent onion funk permeating off of him. “Is there a problem, Ms. Evans? I believe our director has this situation handled.”

  “Handled?” Kole snorted, with a humorless laugh. “There was a whole lot of handling going on over there, but none of it was by me.”

  “Good God, Camden, you can’t even accidentally help me out, can you?” Art grumbled over his shoulder.

  “I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes,” I corrected, playing the diplomat whilst mentally outlining a short story about an obnoxious studio executive that gets lost on a tour of central Africa and ends up the mate of an amorous and open-minded silver-back. “However, I did write the scene and might be able to give the actors better insight into it.” Ducking around Art’s shiny bald head, I caught Kole’s gaze and held it. “This is a pivotal moment in the story. We have to get it right.”

  Art spun away from me. Catching Kole by the sleeve, he yanked him a few feet away and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper that failed to drop in volume, “You are under no obligations to cater to the author’s whims.”

  The way he spat my job title you would’ve thought I weighed elephant dung for a living.

  Kole extracted himself from the sweaty man’s hold with an uneasy lift of his shoulder. “I’m not catering. I’m a desperate man that needs someone to handle the porn stars over there while I get their mothers on the phone to lecture them about appropriate public conduct.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Shooting Art a triumphant smirk, I turned to my task with a flip of my hair.

  Ten steps and reality faded away in a clever trick of the lights. The world I created enveloped me. Peering around, I was swept away by the subtle nuances I missed on the sidelines; birds softly chirping, rocks crunching under my feet, intermingling floral scents filling my lungs with each intoxicating inhale.

  “Do I need to turn off the ambiance?” I jumped at the sound of Kole’s voice booming through the megaphone, his grin audible.

  Glancing back over my shoulder, I shielded my eyes and squinted to see past the lights. “The fake lightning bugs really glow!”

  “Yes they do!” Kole called back. A quick nod to Duncan and the romantic atmosphere morphed back to a studio set with the click of a switch.

  “Bummer,” I huffed. Shrugging off the disappointment, I rushed my quest to its fateful conclusion by taking the shallow, slate stairs two at a time.

  At the sound of me breathlessly lumbering up beside them—you never really know how out of shape you are until you run up a flight of stairs—Willa and Greyson finally tore themselves apart. Greyson wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Unfortunately, that did nothing but smear his co-stars lipstick across his cheek. Willa’s icy façade snapped back into place, smoothing her demure, shi
n-length skirt back into place after her soft-core antics.

  “Sorry that got out of hand,” she stated, her flat-tone and slack expression making the words ring hollow. “His lips are soft and feminine, reminded me of my girlfriend.”

  “That’s funny,” Greyson ran one hand through his golden hair, leaving it in a sexy disarray, “I was picturing your girlfriend, too.”

  Willa’s emerald eyes narrowed to malicious slits, her nostrils flaring.

  “It wasn’t … bad.” My attempt to defuse the situation would’ve been more effective had my voice not betrayed me by coming out a few octaves too high for anyone to take seriously. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “For later scenes that heat will be great. Right now, though, we’re looking more for symbolism. Do you know what that is?”

  “No,” Willa dead-panned, “I’m a complete fucktard.” Her bored gaze traveled to Kole, beseeching him to save her from the boredom inducing pest—me.

  “You’ll have to excuse her,” disapproval sharpened Greyson’s features, somehow managing to make him even more painfully attractive, “Willa sold her soul and personality to the devil in exchange for a string of hit romantic comedies.”

  “I wasn’t trying to offend anyone,” I clarified. “Just trying to share my vision for the scene.”

  “We are your clay to mold.” Greyson bowed his head for me to continue—a gesture that earned an exaggerated eye roll from Willa.

  “Okay, let’s start with the basic scientific logistics,” I began, my fingers spread wide as I talked with my hands for useless emphasis. “If they release the butterflies and you two are grinding together in that same hot-monkey love, you’re going to slaughter quite a few sweet, unsuspecting insects that think they are being released into Butterfly Utopia.”

  Willa’s hand flew to her mouth, a shocked peep escaping her trembling lips.

  “Hate most of mankind, but butterfly genocide sets you off? Good to know where your morality line is,” I muttered under my breath to the floor. Tipping my face up to Greyson, I carried on with my explanation, “Besides the aesthetically pleasing aspects, there was another reason I chose the butterfly house for this scene.”

  “I assumed it was your literary brilliance that decided things like that,” Greyson murmured, glancing up at me from under his lashes in a come and get me look that would make women everywhere forget the name of their own husband.

  “Ugh,” Willa dry-heaved. “Is it in your contract to make every woman you meet think you want to nail her?”

  “Sure.” Greyson caught my eye and winked. “Just like it’s in yours that you will be suddenly straight for the opportunity to work with DiCaprio.”

  My eyebrows rocketed into my hairline, my head whipping from one of them to the other in anticipation of the explosion I was about to witness.

  To my surprise, Willa’s pinched lips twisted to the side. “I can’t argue with that.”

  Blinking my confusion at the enigma that was Willa Lane, I steered around her conversational landmines. “Aiden and Paige both have experienced real pain and loss in their lives. Emotionally, they are fragile and delicate, just like the butterflies flitting around them.”

  “Real deep stuff,” Willa grumbled, picking at her cuticles. “Got that from some college book learnin’, didja?”

  Filling my lungs, I exhaled slowly and mentally counted to ten. “Didn’t I read that you’re a goodwill ambassador?”

  “Yes, I am.” Willa beamed, her shoulders arching back with pride. “Gossip just did an amazing spread about all my efforts. Did you see it?”

  “And I’m guessing part-time is really all you can manage for that?” Turning my back, I purposely left her to chewing on that.

  Greyson welcomed my direct attention with a smile as inviting as a sunset over a white sand beach.

  Careful not to wade too far and get lost in those welcoming waters, I did my best to focus. “Because of the pain from their past, every touch is an unspoken question. They’re putting their tender and battered hearts on the line with each caress, and asking the other to treat it gently.”

  “What a load of shit,” Willa snickered. I didn’t completely disagree with her there.

  Pinching two fingers together, Greyson waved his wrist in a zip-it motion.

  “Hush, she-devil,” he hissed at Willa, his warm mocha gaze then fixing on me. “I think I get it. If a butterfly were to land on you, its touch would be so delicate that you would wonder if it had really happened at all, or if it was merely your mind fantasizing that such a rare beauty would honor you with the gift of their touch.”

  A gorgeous man uttering such poetry temporarily short circuited my brain. Catching myself doing the slack-jawed fan-girl thing, I quickly snapped my mouth shut and averted my gaze to a nonthreatening cement turtle by the edge of the gazebo.

  “Yep,” I muttered to the turtle. “I think you’ve got it.”

  Unfortunately for my last remaining shred of dignity, Greyson wasn’t done with his tutorial. He closed the distance between us with a burning hunger blazing in his eyes. A hot flush rose in my cheeks, creeping clear up to my earlobes as his sculpted body skimmed against mine. Toned, rigid perfection only a few thin layers of fabric away …

  “What are you doing?” My voice failed me, coming out in a raspy yelp.

  “Making sure I’ve got this right.” Temptation, of the most carnal variety, emanated off of him. His focused gaze followed the curve of my lips, the lift of one brow promising toe-curling fun.

  It had been a really long time since someone had looked at me like that. Much less one of the sexiest men on the planet. That almost never happened.

  “Aiden wouldn’t grab Paige, wouldn’t pull her to him.” Raising one hand, he traced the length of my arm with two fingers.

  Starting at my wrist, he worked his way up. His skin never actually made contact, but whispered over mine in an electrifying rush that rolled and built. Bowing his head, his silky locks tickled my cheek. Hot breath teased over my collarbone, awakening a need so powerful my hands curled into tight fists at my sides. Agonizingly slow, he raised his head. The blissful torment of his lips teased over mine, setting the veil of energy between us alive with desire.

  “He wouldn’t want to crush her lips with his need,” he murmured against my mouth, “but would wait … patiently for her to close that last … remaining … space.”

  Despite our audience, it took every ounce of willpower I had to fight the urge to rise up on tiptoe and let my lips find his in a moment of blissful rapture that would make my eyes roll back and the heavens sing. Before that bothersome whim could stomp down the last of my common sense, I stumbled back a step and inserted some much needed distance between us.

  I took great pleasure in seeing Greyson as flushed and ruffled as I was. “Yeah, that was … good,” I panted. “I think you got it.”

  Only then did I take a sweeping inventory of the room. What I found successfully squashed that pesky aching warmth surging through my veins. Every camera man, producer, extra, caterer, and random body that occupied space in the sound stage was fixated on Greyson and me.

  “Wh–what?” I stammered, blushing bright tomato red for the second time within five minutes. If that kept up, I was going to pop some blood vessels.

  Willa sashayed up beside me and threw one bony arm over my shoulder. Her scent was floral muted musk. “That, my dear girl, is a crowd discovering untapped potential. Everyone here wants to bone you or be you.”

  Purposely ignoring her hitched eyebrow and lingering gaze, I sought Kole out in the crowd, hoping to gauge his satisfaction on my coaching session. I found him locked in a heated discussion with Art, his jaw clenched for battle. Meanwhile, Art licked his plump lips and peered my way like a starving man bellying up to Thanksgiving dinner. Whatever was said between them snapped Kole’s head in my direction. There, in his sapphire stare, swirled an ominous warning.

  Chapter 8

  “The towering structure of metal and glass se
emed to expand and contract, eagerly anticipating the moment it could swallow me whole.” With my head tipped back, I gaped up at the foreboding threat that was the Raven’s Claw Productions building.

  A Taye Diggs look-alike—in an insanely expensive suit—politely held the door open for me.

  “Still deciding,” I clarified with an apologetic grimace.

  Confusion creasing his brow, he released the door and strode on.

  “It’s not a revolving door, I’m sure you can figure it,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear.

  My head whipped around, my loose ponytail tickling across my shoulder blades. Kole stood beside me, his hands nonchalantly slung in the pockets of his slacks.

  “It might as well be, since they invited me here just to officially boot me out.” I tried to laugh off my claim, but the lump that rose in my throat soured it to a whimper.

  “You think that’s what is about to happen here?” Kole yanked the door open, and gestured for me to enter. When I didn’t budge, he grabbed my sleeve and dragged my shuffling feet forward.

  “It’s either that or …” My eyes bulged, my jaw swinging slack. “I’m so scared I can’t even come up with a witty retort! They’ve broken my spirit without saying a word! I’m going to leave here a mindless drone that scripts the trailers for all of their straight-to-DVD movies.”

  Pulling back, Kole glanced at me with a liberal slathering of unease. “The mind of a writer is a terrifying place.”

  “You have no idea.” My entire life, no one had ever spoke truer words.

  My ballet flats scuffing against the white tile floor, I crinkled my nose at the musky smell of intermingling colognes wafting through the foyer. Kole followed me into the elevator and pressed the button for the twelfth floor conference rooms. When the doors finally opened, it was to a long hall that ended at a glass door. Beyond that all the Raven’s Claw executives were already seated and waiting for us. The moment was here, just as Art had threatened. They were about to slaughter the dream of my book becoming a movie in a horribly bloody fashion while I was powerless to do anything but watch.