Red Carpet Kiss

by Melissa Brown

  “Morning.” Rob tipped his baseball cap to Elle before taking a bite of his cherry Danish. “Rough day? You look—”

  “—like hell.” Elle heard the unmistakably blunt voice of Whitney.

  “Well, good morning to you, too.” Elle took a bite of the buttermilk doughnut, allowing the ridiculously sweet pastry to soothe her distressed mind. She took another, and then another, oblivious to the crumbs accumulating on her chest.

  “With the way you’re going to town on that doughnut, I’d say something is definitely wrong.”

  Elle polished off the doughnut, brushing the crumbs from her top before hopping from her chair to grab another. Whitney’s mouth was agape when Elle returned to her chair.

  “This must be serious.”

  The slightly acerbic tone of Whitney’s observations annoyed Elle. She didn’t need sarcasm. She needed to be left alone to do her job. If she needed to run on her treadmill that night to make up for the pastries, she would. She didn’t need Whitney giving her a hard time.

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Fine, okay. Whatever.” Whitney grabbed a fruit cup from the table. “If you want to get drinks tonight, I’m free.”

  “Thanks. I just need to get through the day. I’ll be fine.”

  It was a blatant lie, but Elle was tired of talking about her problems all the time. She was torn between two men, dealing with the guilt and actions of her past, and attempting to go about her life as if nothing had ever happened. For just one day, she wanted to give 100 percent of her energy to her job without all of those other emotions creeping in and ruining her composure.

  “Message received,” Whitney muttered. “We’ll chat later.”

  “You two having trouble?” Rob was once again meddling. Perched in his seat, he leaned on the arm of his chair, his chin in his hands, waiting to hear the dirt. Elle grimaced in irritation. As much as she liked Rob, she was in no mood to deal with his prying nature.

  “No, we’re fine. Everything’s fine.” She glanced down at her watch and sighed. “Shouldn’t we have started already?”

  “I was waiting for you. Luke should be out in a minute and Gina’s ready to go.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’m fully aware of that.” Elle ran her hand through her hair while her foot tapped against the linoleum floor.

  “Alrighty then. Let’s get started.” Rob stood, walked next to camera one, and gestured for Tim to bring out the marker. “Places, people. I need quiet on the set!”

  Luke emerged from the hallway, wrapped in nothing but a towel. His hair was wet, as the character of David was supposed to be fresh from a morning shower. Elle swallowed hard as they locked eyes. He winked at her before joining Gina on set. Gina lay on the bed, wrapped in her sheet, and Luke positioned himself under the door frame to the bathroom. Steam billowed behind him as one of the makeup artists touched up a spot on his chin. He lifted his chin to accommodate her, still locking eyes with Elle. She shifted in her seat as she observed him. The way he looked at her, no matter where they were, was exhilarating. She felt naked and exposed, yet sexy and sensual just from one look from that man.

  And now she had to watch that deliciously sexy man look at another woman that way. She was used to the banter, the kisses and the exchange of smoldering looks between her characters, but seeing them in such an intimate position was grating on her, and they hadn’t even started to film!

  Tim waited until the makeup artist had retreated from the set, then he held the marker for camera one. “Follow the Sun, episode fourteen, take one.”

  “And action!” Rob yelled. Elle sat back in her chair and braced herself for the agonizing set of takes that would make up her entire morning. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad . . .

  It was worse than she could have ever imagined. Take after take of kisses, arms stroking skin, moans and murmurs between their lines—the lines Elle had written. She cursed herself as she watched them. Gina was in rare form and Elle was convinced several of her “mistakes” were planned, only to grate further on Elle’s nerves.

  “Cut!” Rob yelled after Gina said the wrong line yet again. The third time in less than ten minutes.

  “Oh, damn.” Gina giggled before glaring across the soundstage at Elle. “Looks like I messed it up again.”

  “No big deal.” Luke shook his head, allowing his makeup artist to wipe the smudged lipstick from his face.

  The makeup artist then leaned in to reapply Gina’s crimson lipstick before they began another take.

  Elle leaned toward Rob. “She’s doing it on purpose. You know that, right?”

  Rob brushed her off. “She’s probably nervous. These scenes are difficult.”

  If Luke was annoyed by it all, he certainly wasn’t exhibiting any signs of it. That, in and of itself, made Elle squirm in her seat. She wanted him to sigh, to roll his eyes, something—anything—to exhibit frustration in doing multiple takes of each kiss, each embrace, each line delivered between moments of physical contact. It was grating on her nerves, and yet she was berating herself for caring so much. He was doing his job. And she needed to get her head on straight and do hers. But first, she desperately needed a reprieve from a morning of watching him touch, stroke, and kiss someone other than herself.

  “We should break for lunch.”

  “You got it.”

  When the scene reached a decent breaking spot, Rob stood and dismissed everyone for an hour-long lunch break. Elle breathed deeply as she watched Gina saunter from the soundstage. Feeling a new sense of purpose, Elle strode toward Luke.

  “Hey, babe.”

  With no worries as to who might see them, Elle took Luke’s hand. “Come with me.”

  He chuckled, but followed behind her, his hand linked with hers as they made their way down the hallway leading to his dressing room. She held her head high as they walked, undeterred in her desire for time alone with Luke. She was tired of sharing him with Gina.

  They entered the room and Elle slammed the door, locking it behind them. She pressed Luke into the cold wood, stripping him of his towel and boxer shorts. A cocky grin crossed his face as he lifted her blouse over her head, pressing his lips to her collarbone. His tongue felt hot against her skin as it traveled up to her neck, over the curve of her chin and finally to her lips. Meanwhile his agile fingers unzipped her pencil skirt, dropping it to the floor.

  Elle stood in her bra and panties, lust growing inside her. She needed him inside her, needed to feel him, to join him in the exquisite agony of mounting pleasure. She hoisted one of her arms around his waist and moved her pelvis toward his. He moaned into her mouth before pulling back.

  “Come with me.”

  He led her to his makeup chair, where he sat down, his hands on her bare waist. Slowly, he tugged her panties until they dropped to the floor. Elle removed her bra, her eyes locked with his.

  “You’re in charge, remember?” Luke said. “Show me what you want.”

  “You,” she murmured. “I want you.”

  “Show me,” he whispered, digging his fingers into her hips. Elle straddled him, her knees bent against the smooth leather, her arms wrapped around his muscular neck. She eased herself onto him, and watched as he closed his eyes and dipped his head back as she took every inch of him into her body.

  Ever so slowly, Elle rocked above him. Luke’s fingers dug into the skin of her hips, and she welcomed the sensation as the arousal within her built steadily. Luke pulled her close, taking one nipple into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth.

  “Oh God.”

  Elle quickened her pace, thrusting again and again.

  “Come for me, baby,” Luke whispered.

  Elle cried out as her orgasm consumed her entire body. Sweet and satisfying electricity spread through her nerve endings and a feeling of euphoria consumed her as her body remained wrapped around Luke’s. She could tell he was close to his own release. His hands, still digging into her hips, were urging her movements faster and faster until he threw his
head back in ecstasy, groaning into the thick air of the dressing room.

  Elle collapsed onto him, her heart pounding out of control, sweat running down her back. Luke wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. After a quiet moment spent in one another’s arms, Elle slid from the chair. She attempted to stand, but found herself clutching the counter. Her legs felt like jelly, and she was having trouble getting her bearings. She’d never had orgasms like the ones she had with Luke. Their intensity was simply incomparable to anything else she experienced with any other lover.

  “Well, that was hot.” Luke sat in his makeup chair, looking spent. Elle handed him his boxer shorts, after she found them draped over a lamp in front of the expansive mirror on the wall. “We should do that more often. I don’t know what came over you, but I like it.”

  His tone of voice was playful. He was teasing her. Clearly, her intentions were more than obvious.

  “Don’t be a smartass. You know what came over me.” An image of Gina popped back into Elle’s head and she remembered the insinuation about a publicist. “By the way, she said you have to make a decision? Something about her publicist and needing an answer . . .”

  “Oh.” Luke ran his fingers through his mussed-up hair, and his nose wrinkled slightly as he licked his lips. “That. I wanted to talk to you about that, but we haven’t seen much of each other lately.”

  “What is it?” Elle hoped it was nothing serious, nothing that would jeopardize their budding relationship.

  “There was such a great reaction to that Perez Hilton thing that her publicist thinks we should have a showmance.”

  Elle’s jaw dropped. She had no idea what to say. Luke sighed. “It’s this thing where we pretend to be a couple—”

  “I know what it is, Luke. I’m in the business, remember?”

  “So what do you think? It wouldn’t be real. Just like two or three months of being seen in public or whatever to get the tongues wagging.”

  “Is this really what you want for yourself? Fake romance to boost your career?”

  “Well, when you put it that way—”

  “And where is the line drawn? Will you be kissing in public? Making out in restaurant booths, what?” Aggressively, Elle slid her panties up her legs as aggravation threatened to change the tone of their discussion. Gina’s lips on Luke in the studio was difficult enough; the last thing she needed was to see them on gossip rags and websites.

  He rose from his seat, stood before her, and ran his hands down her arms still beading with sweat. “I like when you’re jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous.” Elle slid her bra back on her thin frame. Luke tipped his chin and raised his eyebrows. “I’m not!”

  “Okay, okay, whatever you say. But for the record, it’s hot as hell. And I like this side of you.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest, widening her stance. “And what side is that?”

  Luke wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck with his nose. “The side of you that reacts. Instead of being all stoic and strong, you took what you wanted. And I was more than happy to give it to you.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “That’s because I’m trying to keep you on your toes.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “I’m telling her no, Elle. I was always going to tell her no. I just wanted to see how you feel about me . . . how you really feel about me.”

  Elle’s lips parted. “Seriously? You have no intention of going along with it?”

  “Absolutely none. I want to make a name for myself the right way—with my work. But you have to admit you’ve been pulling away from me. One minute, we’re having a great time, the next you’re somewhere else completely. I had to know how you really feel.”

  Elle’s voice came out in a whisper. “I’m crazy about you . . . obviously.”

  “It’s good to hear.” He shrugged, his eyes sincere and vulnerable. “I know you’re seeing him, I can feel it.”

  “W-what? How did you . . . I mean—” Elle rambled, taking several steps back. How did he read her so well?

  “Look, I get it, all right? I know you need to figure this out.” Luke paused and looked up at the ceiling, avoiding Elle’s eyes. His tone had changed. There was a bite to his words, a tick in his jaw. “And I also know you won’t be able to move on until you do. But the thought of you with him . . .”

  “What? Tell me.”

  Luke clenched his fists and pursed his lips. “Let’s just say I’d rather you didn’t. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not about you? Of course it is.”

  “Not all of it.”

  Elle glanced down at the floor. Right then and there, she knew Luke was falling for her just as much as she was falling for him. Gina wasn’t the issue, she was. A tremendous amount of guilt was going to swallow her whole. Part of her heart still belonged to Troy. Was she a terrible person for seeing them both at the same time? Despite any titles or proclamations of exclusivity, she was fully aware of the negative impact she could have on either or both of the men in her life. The thought of hurting either of them made her chest ache.

  Luke walked to her, wrapping his arms back around her waist.

  “But as much as it pisses me off, knowing you’re still seeing him, I’m willing to wait. You, Elle Riley, are worth the wait.”

  “That may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

  She ran her fingers through his wavy hair, feeling choked up. “Why do you always say the right thing? I mean, seriously, how did you get to be so damn wonderful?”

  Luke shrugged, his cheeks scarlet. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Not ever.”

  Elle’s eyes moistened and a lump formed in her throat as she processed what Luke had said. Not ever? She was overwhelmed, but, she was surprised to realize, not scared. Reluctantly, she glanced at her watch. More than anything, she wanted to stay and finish their conversation, but the lunch hour was almost over and she needed to clear things up with Whitney. “You must be starving. You should grab a sandwich back on set.”

  “Good idea, that was quite a bit of exertion.” He laughed, kissing her gently on her ear. Her muscles relaxed beneath his lips, until she remembered what she had to do.

  “I have to see Whitney, I was pretty rude to her earlier and I want to apologize.”

  Elle finished dressing, smoothed down the chaotic curls on her head, and kissed Luke one last time. She was dreading a blowup with her best friend. It was only noon and she was already processing more emotion than she usually did all day.

  “Hey,” he murmured with his arms wrapped around her back. “Are we okay? Your muscles are tense all of a sudden.”

  “I’m not thrilled with your little trick . . . but yeah, we’re just fine. More than fine. Just promise me you’ll tell Gina.”

  “I’ll tell her the minute I see her. I meant what I said, Elle. It’s not something I’m even remotely interested in.”

  “I know.”

  Elle smiled and kissed him softly on the cheek before walking to Whitney’s office with her tail between her legs. When she knocked on the door, there was no response, which was odd since Whitney typically worked through the lunch hour. From the other side of the door, she heard a moan. And then another, and another. First a man, then a woman.

  Elle laughed silently to herself, realizing she wasn’t the only one who used the lunch hour for a quickie. Curious as to who might be on the other side of the door, she mentally gave Whitney a high five before digging through her purse for a notepad. When she found it, she scribbled a short apology and slipped it under the door, hoping she and Whitney would be just fine as soon as Whit read the message. There was no way in hell she would interrupt what was happening on the other side of that door.


  In haste, so as not to draw attention to herself, she slipped back down the hallway and returned to the set, bracing herself for several more hours of torture. Only this time, she could watch Luke with satisfaction, knowing she, not Gina, was the one he desired when the director said, “Cut.”

  The shrill sound of her house phone woke Elle from a deep sleep. An unexpected deep sleep. It was the morning of the Golden Globe award nominations. In years past she had trouble sleeping longer than a few hours. Perhaps it was the fact the fall season of Follow the Sun was dominating the number-one spot in the Nielsen ratings, or Elle’s confidence in her show’s role within the network, but for whatever reason she had slept in, only to be woken by the excited voice of Whitney.

  “Oh my God, did I seriously just wake you?”

  “Yes,” she grumbled into the receiver, unable to focus her hazy eyes.

  “Hurry up! Best Drama is next!”

  Elle reached out her arm, still heavy with sleep, to grab the remote. Her nerves got the best of her and her fingers fumbled with the numbers.

  “Oh my God,” Whitney grumbled on the other end of the line. “You’re going to miss it.”

  Elle struggled to focus her eyes. “I’m doing the best I can. Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

  Finally, Elle turned to the proper channel just as Follow the Sun was read from the list of nominees. She and Whitney sat in silence for a moment. She’d done it. They’d done it. Elle’s eyes filled with tears and she bit down on her bottom lip to prevent her emotions from spilling over.

  “You did it,” Whitney whispered.

  Elle took a deep breath to calm her pounding heartbeat, and swiped a tear from her cheek. She had to remember to keep things in perspective and not to get her hopes up. “It’s just a nomination.”

  “Stop it. Don’t do that. Don’t you dare do that. You freaking did it! This is something to celebrate!”

  “I know, I just—I’m overwhelmed.” Elle stared at the screen in awe.

  “Just soak it in, my friend,” Whitney said. Elle could hear Whitney’s smile in her voice. “Soak it in.”