His Larkville Cinderella

by Melissa McClone

  He noticed movement on the patio. He caught a glimpse of a pile of curly dark hair. Megan, the intern from Texas. That explained her slight twang.

  A smile tugged on his lips. At least one good thing would come out of the casting change. Her internship would continue for at least another week. Eva would be too busy getting new costumes ready to fire Megan.

  The thought of her sticking around longer made him happy. That was a little bizarre given she was a total stranger. But something about her appealed to him. Her eyes, yes, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what else it might be. Maybe her apparent dislike of him.

  He looked up on the patio again, but didn’t see her. No doubt she’d been ordered to do something else for someone.

  Megan should make the most of her internship and time in Hollywood. She might have received a reprieve from being sent home in the next day or two, but she wouldn’t last. Her quiet personality and self-conscious demeanor weren’t cut out for Hollywood, but Adam hoped she would be here long enough to figure that out herself.

  It was better for a person to change their dreams than have them stripped away. That had happened to his mother. His father had broken her heart when he took off. Since then, Adam had watched her chase pipe dreams and men. Nothing mattered to her except grabbing the golden ring—another wedding band. She would give up everything, including him, to find her one true love. Adam didn’t want a broken dream to have that same kind of effect on anyone else, especially someone so quiet and shy, like Megan Calhoun.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THREE days later, Megan opened the hatchback of her car. Shoes and shoeboxes were strewn everywhere. She swallowed the sigh threatening to escape. She’d been sighing too much the past few days.

  Besides, she had only herself to blame for this latest mess. She’d put down the backseats to give her more room to transport items. That hadn’t worked out so well with the shoeboxes.

  Megan tucked the car keys in the front pocket of her jeans.

  She must have taken a few curves too fast. Not surprising, she’d been running late. Again. Driving was where she could make up time, if, and it was a big if, there wasn’t any traffic on the road.

  But standing here staring at all the sandals, pumps, flats and boots wasn’t getting it done. She needed to put the shoes back into their boxes and carry them inside before Lane Gregory’s fitting. That was the reason Megan had been given strict instructions with an impossible time frame.

  Eva must want her to fail. Megan matched up boxes with lids. That was the only explanation for being stuck in interning purgatory. A headache threatened to erupt.

  She rubbed her temples. It didn’t help. More caffeine might. That stuff had been keeping her going the past two days. What she needed was a sit-down meal with fresh vegetables and a decent night’s sleep. Neither looked likely in the near future.

  Megan arranged the boxes so she could see what was missing what. Gathering the pieces for today’s costume fittings had meant killer hours, irregular meal times and little, if any, sleep. Not just for her, but everyone working wardrobe and costumes on the film.

  Talk about an insane schedule.

  But she couldn’t give up. That wasn’t the Calhoun way. Her dad might not physically be here any longer, but his spirit and memory lived on. She wanted him to be proud of her.

  She picked up a shoebox with a single silver slingback sandal inside. The matching shoe had to be here somewhere.

  As she sorted through the shoes, putting them into the correct boxes, she imagined what awful task they—okay, Eva—would assign next. A long list of horrible, degrading tasks ran through Megan’s mind. She half laughed.

  Hard to believe she was working so hard for free.

  Not only working, but driving.

  She’d put a couple hundred miles on her car running errands around town for Eva and company. Granted Megan would be reimbursed for mileage and gas, but hazard pay for being forced to drive on the L.A. freeways should be included.

  Something silver near the left passenger door caught Megan’s eye. The sandal. She grabbed hold of it. Her cell phone vibrated in her back jeans pocket.

  Unbelievable. She grimaced. As soon as she was close to finishing an errand, a text would arrive telling her what to do next. It was as if a camera followed her every move so she would never have a spare moment. Coincidence, yes. She didn’t think Hollywood was that wired, but it was still weird.

  She removed her phone from her pocket, but hesitated looking at the display screen.

  Please don’t make me go back to the warehouse clear across town. The one I just came from.

  That had happened twice yesterday during bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 405. She’d had to drive from Santa Monica to Van Nuys and back again.

  Talk about a total nightmare. She shivered.

  But if asked to make that drive again, Megan would. She would smile and drive wherever they asked. She would do whatever it took in the hopes of gaining real costume design experience with this internship.

  However unlikely that looked at the moment.

  She placed the shoe in the box with its match, put the lid on top, then read the name on the cell phone’s display screen.

  Rob.

  Finally.

  Usually a thrill shot through her each time she heard from him, but today she felt a sliver of annoyance. She’d been sending him texts all week, but he hadn’t replied to any of them. No doubt he’d been as busy getting settled in Austin and starting his new job as she was here in Los Angeles. But she didn’t see why he couldn’t take two minutes out of his day—thirty seconds even—to text her back.

  Megan read his message.

  How’s showbiz?

  She thought about everything she’d been doing, from driving all over L.A. to meeting Adam Noble. The guy, or at least images of him wearing only a pair of shorts with water dripping down his tanned skin, had taken up permanent residency in her thoughts. She chalked it up to him being nice to her. But she’d much rather think about someone else.

  Someone like Rob.

  Her perfect guy. Even if he wasn’t the best at keeping in touch with her.

  She typed a one-word reply summing up her first week in town.

  Exhausting.

  Everything about her internship tired her out. But in spite of the exhaustion, she honestly couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be than here in Hollywood. Well, except Austin with Rob.

  “So you can smile.”

  The familiar male voice startled her. She glanced up from her phone display to see Adam Noble standing next to her. He wore a pair of khaki cargo shorts with a button-down, light blue, short-sleeved shirt and hi-tech-looking sports sandals. His brown hair was casually yet artfully tousled. His easy smile showed a gleaming row of straight, white teeth. He looked...good.

  Not that she cared how he looked outside of him wearing one of the costumes. She slid her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Everyone can smile, Mr. Noble.”

  “Adam.”

  Oh, yeah. He’d told her to call him by his first name. She stared at the shoes scattered in her car. She needed to get busy.

  “You didn’t smile at Chas’s place,” Adam said.

  She put a pair of black ankle boots into a large shoebox. “I was working.”

  “You’re working now.”

  “Trying to work,” she mumbled.

  Her cell phone beeped. Rob. Anticipation at his quick response to her last text surged—the way it did on the day her copy of Vogue arrived in the mail. Maybe absence was making his heart grow fonder. Megan fought the urge to whip out her phone, but that would be rude with Adam here. She didn’t want to get in trouble for texting when she should be delivering the shoes. Not that Adam would tattle. Or maybe he would...

  Not worth the risk. She matched another pair of shoes.

  “I know why you’re smiling.”

  Adam’s playful tone drew her attention away from the shoes and on to him. “W
hy?”

  His green eyes twinkled with mischief. “I saw you with your phone. Your boyfriend is texting you.”

  In her dreams.

  Okay, Rob was a boy. He was also her friend. But he wasn’t her boyfriend. Not yet, anyway. Sometimes—a lot of times lately—he frustrated her. But she hoped once he realized how good they would be as a couple everything would fall into place.

  Still, who she exchanged texts with was no one’s business, especially Adam’s. “I’m sorry, but I need to get these shoes sorted and inside before the fittings begin.”

  “You’re discreet.”

  His charming smile sent her pulse skittering. She chalked up the reaction to tiredness.

  “I like that,” he added.

  His compliment made her straighten. She wasn’t used to being complimented. Most people in Larkville had pegged her as an oddity years ago. Being friends with Rob, who might be a geek but was also the mayor’s grandson, was the only thing that kept her from being an outcast.

  Megan reached for another pair of shoes. Her hand trembled.

  Uh-oh. She couldn’t let herself be affected by Adam. The guy was an actor, a player who had more lines than a pad of graph paper. The realization irritated her. “I don’t have time to talk right now. I’m running late.”

  “You have a mess on your hands.”

  Captain Obvious seemed as fitting a name for him as Adam. She searched for a red leather pump. It had to be here somewhere. “Yes.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “That’s not...”

  Her cell phone vibrated again. Rob.

  Adam held up the missing red shoe. “Where does this go?”

  Okay, maybe she could use the help. The sooner she finished this task, the sooner she could get back to Rob. “In the brown box.”

  Adam helped her sort the rest of the shoes. Having his assistance made the task go faster. She put on the lids, then stacked the boxes. “Thanks so much. I won’t have time to grab lunch, but I won’t be in too much trouble for being late.”

  “You haven’t eaten?”

  The concern in Adam’s voice surprised her.

  “I’ve eaten. Well, not today. I’ve been living off pizza, fast food and coffee. I was hoping to have a sit-down meal. Maybe tomorrow.” Megan picked up five boxes. The different sizes made balancing difficult, but she managed. “I’d better get these inside.”

  Boxes slipped.

  Adam straightened the stack with one hand while his other rested on the small of her back. “Be careful.”

  No kidding. The jersey knit fabric of her T-shirt kept their skin from touching, but awareness seeped through her. Heat, too.

  The imprint of his large, warm hand left her tongue-tied. She took two steps back. “Th-thanks. I’ve got them.”

  “You have a lot of boxes,” he said. “I’ll carry some in.”

  Megan’s brow knotted. “But you’re the star...”

  “I was trying to get a rise out of you by saying that.”

  “It worked.”

  “And now you’re not going to let me forget I said that.”

  “You are the star.”

  He shook his head, but looked amused.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be able to remind you about it too much. I doubt our paths will cross much after filming begins.”

  “They call it shooting, not filming.”

  “I didn’t know that. Thanks.”

  Not seeing Adam would be kind of a bummer. He was the only person who had not only been nice but also offered to help her. That made Adam Noble the closest thing to a friend she had in Los Angeles. Not that she had anything in common with him.

  His eyes darkened. “I was a jerk to you at Chas’s place.”

  Megan drew back, careful not to let any of the boxes fall. She never would have expected Adam to own up to his behavior. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Him. Hollywood A-lister and all-around nice guy seemed to be contradictory terms, yet he appeared to be both. “I’m figuring out that’s how things work here when you’re new.”

  “That’s not how things should work.” Adam picked up several of the shoeboxes, enough to save her two trips. “Let me make it up to you.”

  Once again, Adam had done—make that said—the unexpected. His display of chivalry confused her. He seemed so different from everyone else she’d met this week. She wanted to know how he thought things should work in Hollywood, but he didn’t need to make anything up to her. Not really. “You are, by helping me.”

  “This is nothing,” Adam said. “Let me buy you lunch after the fitting. We can have a sit-down meal in the commissary. No eating on the run or in your car.”

  She hadn’t known what he’d meant by making it up to her, but a lunch invite hadn’t been it. A part of Megan wanted to accept. She could use some company and conversation. Both were sparse around here. Not to mention she was hungry. But his reputation as a ladies’ man made her wonder if he had an ulterior motive. Maybe he was the type of man who always wanted women to like him. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to.”

  “I might not finish at the same time as you.”

  “I’m not in a hurry.”

  “I might be sent on another errand.”

  “You might not.”

  His attention flattered her. Until Megan remembered how he’d focused on each person at the table in Malibu. Maybe Adam was the kind of person who didn’t like to feel under obligation.

  “What do you say?” he asked. “Give me your number and I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

  If Adam felt he owed her, her accepting his invitation would make things square between them. If he had asked her out for more nefarious reasons, she could handle it. Him. Nate had taught her a few self-defense moves he’d learned in his military training. But she honestly didn’t think she had to worry about that with Adam.

  Truth was, having lunch with him appealed to Megan. Eating her meals on the go and alone was getting old fast. She was figuring out the people you knew in the business were as important as what you knew. Being on good terms with a movie star of Adam Noble’s stature couldn’t hurt her, especially when it came to finding a permanent position. She would need people to give her recommendations. His name would carry weight.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’d like that.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Adam stood in one of the dressing rooms in the wardrobe department. People, mainly women, scurried in and out, buzzing around him like bees as they scribbled notes.

  He was nothing more than a living, breathing mannequin. Clothes came off. Others went on. His white boxer briefs were the only item that remained on his body the entire time.

  A mix of perfumes wafted in the air. Adam recognized the scent of one, Chanel No. 5. His mother wore that.

  He preferred the way Megan smelled—like springtime. Light, sunny, a little flowery. Not a chemical scent manufactured in a lab, but the real deal.

  He was looking forward to having lunch with her. She was different from the people he normally came in contact with, so unaffected.

  She’d disappeared after they’d brought in the shoes. He kept hoping she’d breeze into his dressing room.

  The costumer, a woman in her early thirties named Kenna, straightened the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket. “I’d forgotten how well this tuxedo fits you. Forty-two long, right?”

  Adam nodded. He’d worked with her before on the Roman gods epic blockbuster that had made him a bankable star. Her hair had been blond then, not a flaming red. The new color suited Kenna as did the vintage clothing she always wore. “Thanks to you.”

  With a grin, she adjusted his sleeves. “I wish all actors had wide shoulders like yours. Suits and tuxedos look so much nicer.”

  Adam would wear the tux during the first turning point when his character, Maxwell Caldecott, became the scapegoat for his wealthy father-in-law’s illegal activity and was arrested. But the tux made him think of some
thing other than that pivotal scene—award season. He was banking on this drama, a character piece with big emotions, to catapult him into an award nominee and winner.

  He winked. “I bet you say that to all the actors.”

  The set costumer, a woman in her late twenties named Rosie, tied his bow tie. “Only the hot ones.”

  “The truth comes out,” he teased.

  The women smiled at him. These weren’t flirtatious come-ons, but genuine grins.

  Adam appreciated their good humor. He couldn’t imagine the past few days had been easy on them. They both had the same dark circles under their eyes as Megan. He wondered what she was doing right now.

  “Turn,” Rosie said.

  He did.

  “Now for the accessories.” Kenna glanced at her clipboard. “We’ve changed a couple of things so they wouldn’t clash with Lane’s costumes. She’s not a big fan of gold.”

  Rosie glanced in a marked container. “Speaking of which, where is the new wedding band?”

  “Eva had it earlier,” Kenna said.

  Rosie sent a text. “We’ll have it in a minute. Once we get Eva’s approval on this ensemble, you can go.”

  Kenna nodded. “We’ll tag the items, then it’s time for a much needed lunch break.”

  Her words made him think about Megan again. He thought she would say no to his invitation, but he was pleased she hadn’t. Buying her lunch would make up for the way he’d teased her at Chas’s house.

  As if on cue, Megan entered the dressing area with a small ring box in her hands. She didn’t look at him.

  All business. Adam’s grin widened. Well, except for her casual clothes. She’d removed her jacket. She was wearing the same baggy pink T-shirt and jeans she’d worn at the beach. Her wild, curly brown hair was piled and clipped on top of her head once again. But the earrings were new. She hadn’t worn jewelry before. Add a pair of smart-girl glasses and she really would have the geek-chic look down. Her cheeks were flushed pink, as if she were exercising. Most likely running errands.