“Hollywood.”
“Hollywood?”
Bay’s eyes lit up. “The big screen.” She splayed her hands through the air. “You could be the next big thing.” Her hands landed on his chest, and her eyes dropped to his lips. “You have everything you need right here.”
“I never— ” He may have been a gentleman, but he was still a man, and when a beautiful woman advanced like a tigress, he couldn’t turn himself to stone. Kirke grappled to take in the idea of a life in Hollywood, making Hollywood money, and Bay’s advances. “Cheese,” he blurted.
Bay lifted one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Kirke put his hands over hers and moved them off his chest, clasping them tightly. “Let’s eat.”
Her appraising gaze swept over him. “Sounds wonderful.”
Two quarter-cup servings of cheese, a bunch of grapes, six strawberries, and a sleeve of crackers didn’t look like much, considering what he’d paid.
Bay nibbled on a strawberry as she scrolled through her phone.
Kirke slathered a cracker with the yellow cheese. The white one smelled sour. “Do you really think I could sell a screenplay?”
Bay’s phone disappeared. “I do.” Slowly biting into a strawberry, she moaned. “This is delicious.”
“Thanks.”
“One of your best ways to break into the business is to write a screenplay a big name can’t say no to. Think Sandra Bullock, Jennifer Aniston, or Bay Barington.” She bit her lip and looked away. “I mean, if you wanted to. I would love to be in a movie— written by you.”
Flattered, Kirke pushed the crackers away. “I don’t know. Part of why I love what I do is developing the characters. I’d feel like I was inserting you, or anyone else, like a paper doll.”
That delicious lower lip appeared again. “I think you’d be brilliant!”
“Thank you, Bay. That means a lot to me coming from someone who is a big part of the business.”
Bay’s eyes flicked side to side as she searched his face. “You’re unlike any man I’ve ever met, Kirke.” She slid her hands over his shoulders.
“You’re one in a million yourself.” Kirke’s voice took on a husky tone as his awareness spiked.
Before he could recall his vow to be a gentleman, Bay kissed him with passion, and Kirke enjoyed every second. She moaned lightly, and Kirke recognized the noise from times when she’d kissed men on the show. He pulled back, searching for sincerity. Her smile was full of sweetness, and he reminded himself that she was a reality TV star, not an actress. The sun set behind Ruby Mountain and a chill swept over their little clearing. “We’d better get back before they shut the lift down for the night.”
He packed up what was left of their meager meal, and Bay once again tucked herself into his side. The walk back to the lift was slow because of Bay’s heels. She prattled on about her producer and his latest idea to send them all to a small village in South America to build a school.
Kirke was only half listening. He should be the happiest man alive— he had his dream girl on his arm. But something was off. Bay’s kiss had been exciting but lacking in depth, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
“MOM! IT’S NOT DUE for two weeks,” said Kaitlyn Johanson.
“If you don’t start reading, you’ll never get it done,” admonished her mom.
“Ugh!” Kaitlyn tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder.
“What are you reading?” Jennifer asked Kaitlyn. At seventeen, Kaitlyn was willowy with huge blue eyes and had everything going for her. Not only did she play in the orchestra and get good grades; she was truly kind and helped out with her mom’s charity efforts. Tonight, that included the Harvest Hurrah. Since Jennifer had signed up to help on Brooklyn’s committee, they’d agreed that a strategy meeting was in order. Brooklyn had asked her daughter to put the phone away several times while she and Jennifer worked on plans for the fundraiser, and her waning patience came through in her tone.
“The Scarlet Letter.” Kaitlyn flipped her phone onto the table, rolling her eyes at her mom.
“Oh, I loved that one.” Jennifer pressed her hand to her chest. The familiar rush that came when discussing a good book had her leaning forward and her mind sparking. “Hester Prynne is one of the bravest women in literature, and she was so rock-and-roll.”
Kaitlyn and Brooklyn turned to stare. “What do you mean, rock-and-roll?” Kaitlyn flipped through the pages as if Elvis’s pulsating hips were concealed within.
Pressing both palms into the Johanson’s granite countertop, Jennifer explained, “Here she is, sentenced to a lifetime wearing this mark that identifies her as a sinner, right? But she doesn’t just stitch this block letter A or even do a thin outline or something. She goes all out and turns the letter into a work of art.”
Kaitlyn nodded. “Like she was proud of what she did.”
“Maybe.” Jennifer cocked her head. “But I like to think of it as an expression of her love. Like the time she spent with the father of her daughter was beautiful to her. She cherished it and didn’t want to cheapen it by doing anything less than her best. She gave him her best.” She sighed. “So romantic.”
Brooklyn shifted in her seat. “It’s supposed to be a cautionary tale.” She tilted her head towards Kaitlyn with a look that said don’t give her any ideas.
Jennifer scrambled. “It is— there are always consequences for our actions. But I think it also says that you can turn even the most awful circumstances into something beautiful.” That was a little close to home. Jennifer’s whole childhood could be summed up by the term awful circumstances … and yet she was here, in Brooklyn’s home, working beside her and feeling like she belonged. Not everyone issued the same courtesies, but perhaps some of Jennifer’s efforts to make a name for herself were paying off. Her cheeks burning, Jennifer shuffled papers around.
“Would you read through my assignment before I turn it in?” asked Kaitlyn.
Pleased, Jennifer said, “I’d love to.”
Kaitlyn stuck her finger between the pages. “I’m going to read in my room where it’s quiet.” She was halfway out of the kitchen when Jennifer noticed her phone on the table. She pointed at it, and Brooklyn put a finger over her mouth.
Once Kaitlyn had disappeared into the vast house set on Ruby Resort Drive, Brooklyn placed her hand on Jennifer’s forearm. “I think she really intends to read. Thank you.”
Jennifer blushed. “It was nothing.”
“That whole bit about the rock and roll, that was brilliant.”
Jennifer grinned. “Maybe my view of Hester Prynne isn’t the same as the rest of the world’s, but that’s what’s wonderful about good books— they speak to many different people.”
Brooklyn repositioned her papers. “I wish they had someone like you at the library. Kaitlyn is scared to go in there. Marian terrifies her.”
Jennifer chuckled. “Marian does have a stiff bark. And I’d love to work there, but there aren’t any positions open, and I’m not after someone’s job. Besides, I’m still in school.” She glanced down at the planning sheets before her. “Have we covered everything?”
Brooklyn nodded. “Yes, we’ve figured out the prizes for the fishing pond and bean bag toss, scheduled the volunteers, completed the layout of the games, and you got Kaitlyn to read her book.”
Jennifer stood and gathered her things. “Then I should be going. I have early inventory in the morning.”
Brooklyn saw her through the expansive living room and grand entryway. “Thanks for all your help.”
“Anytime.” Jennifer’s soul hummed, happy to have helped Kaitlyn with her English assignment. She’d spent the night with people she respected and who in turn respected her. Which blew her away, considering that they lived right next to the ski resort and she lived in a small apartment. Maybe she’d been guilty of judging the Johansons because of their wealth, just like others judged her because of her lack of wealth.
Hmm, something to think about …
The autumn sun had set, but the interior lights were on in the car, giving Jennifer enough light to make out Kirke and a woman sitting closely in the back seat. Bay Barington was talking a mile a minute while taking liberties by running her hand up and down Kirke’s arm and across his shoulder. He turned to Bay with that playful tilt to his mouth that Jennifer believed had been for her and her alone, and said something that had Bay laughing.
For Jennifer, standing on the curb and watching this transpire was like watching the Ruby Mountain Horror Show. Her body trembled, and her mouth went dry. At the last second, she ducked behind her car, gulping in breaths and hoping Kirke hadn’t seen her gawking at the two of them. They drove past, not slowing, and Jennifer let out a sigh of relief as she climbed into her car. Settling behind the steering wheel, she gave it her best scowl. Maybe she should take a lesson from Hester Prynne and find a small cabin in the woods to hide away.
Mentally shaking herself, Jennifer started the car. One date and some laughter didn’t mean Kirke was in love with Bay or that Bay was in love with Kirke. Bay would be gone in a few days, back to her life of glitz and glam, and things would return to normal.
She groaned. Normal was no longer enough. Not with her thoughts centered around Kirke’s strong frame and penetrating brown eyes; nor with his fingers grazing her cheek and lower back. How was it possible to crave something you’d never tasted? Jennifer didn’t have the answer, but she did have a hankering for a huge slice of Fay’s chocolate cake.
“At least there’s one yearning I can count on satisfying tonight.” She flipped on her blinker and headed to Main Street and Fay’s Cafe.
KIRKE HURRIED TO GET the last lines of scene two out of his head. His afternoon had been productive, and he was looking forward to a good round of edits in the morning. With any luck, he’d be able to give this section to Jennifer in a couple days. She read all his work first. Her vast background in literature gave her a masterful grasp of story and plot. She never expressed a desire to create stories. No, her desire was to consume stories, her mind brilliantly capable of retaining every one.
He smiled, already picturing her reaction to the banter between the hero and heroine. He couldn’t wait to read through the lines with her, adding a touch or a twitch of an eyebrow here and there. She was so good at becoming a part of what she read, like the words he wrote created delicate swirls in her thoughts that she spun into magic. If he had anyone to thank for getting him to this level, it would be her.
Clicking save, he shoved his chair back and stretched his neck before ducking into his room to finish getting ready for his second date with Bay.
Bay was … intense.
Bay had all these ideas about Hollywood and screenplays, and the figures she threw around were pretty impressive. He could afford to live in Hollywood if he made that kind of money. And he’d written a screenplay back in college as a course project. The romcom wasn’t anything outstanding, but with a little work he could make it sellable.
That was the trouble. He was cheating at life, and he knew it. He got to get up every day and do something he loved. That just didn’t happen for most people. His mom, dad, and brothers worked nine-to-five jobs that they tolerated. None of them rolled out of bed and thought, “I get to be an accountant today,” or a nurse or a programmer. They liked their professions well enough, but retirement was always the big goal. Kirke didn’t think he could retire from writing plays.
Bay insisted there wasn’t that much difference between a screenplay and a Broadway script. Maybe there wasn’t. Broadway was about showmanship. They packed the seats and sold tickets at outrageous prices. It was beautiful, and yet it was a business.
Off Broadway, where most of Kirke’s plays were produced, was about the art. You couldn’t even get to off Broadway unless you’d honed your talent. Kirke had done just that, with Jennifer’s help. The resulting script had given Kirke his lucky break.
That lucky break would go broke if Kirke didn’t turn out something soon. He should stay and work, but Bay was only in town for a couple of days, and he wanted to take advantage of the time they had together.
Grabbing his bike and duffel bag with a change of clothes, Kirke put the bike on his bike rack and sped up to the resort. He walked through the front doors just as the elevator opened. Bay looked him up and down, her eyes dancing.
“This is different.” She pointed to his biking shorts.
Kirke’s face burned as he looked around the lobby. He was dressed in skintight spandex and while he didn’t think much of it while biking, standing amongst the crystal vases and priceless antiques, the song One of These Things is Not Like the Others played in his head. “I wanted to take you down a few trails, let you really experience the mountain.”
Bay sidled up to him. “Kirke, honey, I spend a couple hours a day with a personal trainer. If I work too hard, I’ll get all bumpy and muscly. I have to keep a specific body type for the show.”
“I didn’t realize.” Kirke’s neck burned as he thought of how bumpy her lips felt when she kissed him. He’d Googled it and determined Bay must have had injections. The idea didn’t bother him, except that on the show she was constantly telling her friends to celebrate their natural beauty and not try to change who God made them. Jennifer always looked thin and pretty, and she didn’t have to put in hours at the gym. Of course, she was happy to hit the trails with him anytime.
“Of course not. That’s the whole idea.” Bay beamed as she trailed her hand up his arm.
Kirke didn’t want to upset her, even though he’d been counting on pushing himself physically to release his pent-up energy from sitting at the computer for hours. “What would you like to do this afternoon?”
“An early dinner would be great. I’m not allowed to eat after seven.”
“Your producer tells you when to eat?” Talk about control issues.
“No, silly.” She swatted his arm. “My nutritionist.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to change, and then we can go to Fay’s.”
“That diner on Main Street? How quaint. I just wonder if the menu will coincide with my diet.”
How she lived with all these restrictions was beyond him.
“The Overlook has what I need.”
Kirke swallowed. Another meal to put a dent in his savings account. “Sounds good,” he choked out. “I’ll be right back.”
After changing in his car, Kirke returned to find Bay surrounded by a gaggle of preteen and teen girls. Smiling apologetically, Bay held up a finger.
Kirke nodded and held back.
“And who is this for?” Bay asked as she accepted the paper and pen to sign an autograph.
“Mary,” replied the girl.
“Mary, you have dazzling eyes.” Bay dictated as she wrote.
Mary blushed. “Thanks.”
“I’m Evie.” A blond, taller than the rest, shoved paper at Bay.
“Evie, that’s a pretty name.”
“Thanks.” Evie flipped her hair over her shoulder.
Bay worked her way through the group, handing each one a specific compliment and asking questions about boys and school. The girls giggled and blushed. Noticing one youngster hanging back, Bay parted the crowed with a wave of her arm and beckoned the child closer. Leaning over she asked, “Would you like an autograph too?”
The girl nodded, her lips pressed tight.
Bay’s smile softened as she wrote a note. “Can I have a picture with you?”
“Me?” The girl looked frightened.
“Yep. You’re my newest friend.”
“Okay.” They posed for the selfie, and then the child melted back to the fringe.
“Thanks for stopping by to say hi. I’ve got to get going.” Bay waved and made her way over to Kirke.
Kirke offered his arm. “That was very nice of you.”
Bay shrugged. “I remember wh
at it’s like— teen girls can feel isolated even inside a group of friends.”
Kirke and Bay walked over to The Overlook and were seated immediately. It was still early in the evening, and the restaurant wasn’t crowded. Their food arrived in record time.
Bay blotted her lips. “I’ve been meaning to ask you who your contacts are in New York.”
Kirke paused, his water halfway to his mouth. The hair on his neck had stood up, and he wondered why he was anxious at her question. She’d been dropping names since the day they met. The truth was, he didn’t know much about that end of things. He’d done a trip to New York two years ago and circled the meet-and-greets, and every once in a while he’d hit opening night of a play and attend the after-parties, but he wasn’t really that guy. “To tell you the truth, Bay, I leave most of that up to my agent.”
Bay gasped and pressed her splayed hand to her chest. “You can’t be that trusting. How do you know your agent is honest?”
Kirke took a sip and set his glass down. “Because he was my friend before he was my agent.”
“Darling, they all act like your best friend and pick your wallet at the same time.”
Kirke shook his head. “Doug wouldn’t do that to me.” Of course, Doug probably thinks I’m hard at work right now …
“What you really need to do is put your face out there.” Bay flaked off a piece of tilapia.
“How would my face help me get ahead?”
“First off …” She dabbed the corners of her lips. “You’re adorable. Women would flock to your plays if they thought they could see you there.”
Kirke grinned. Bay was so good for his ego. Her continual touching his arm or leaning against him had his chest out and his shoulders back. Years had gone by since he’d really dated anyone, and the physical contact felt good. Really good. “Well, there’s that.” He winked.
“If you moved out west, we could really get things going.”
There it was again— moving. “I don’t know that I could write in California.”
“You’re so good, you could probably write on the moon. But that’s not the point. What is it about this place that holds you here?”
Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2) Page 16