What if he really liked Megan? She was different enough she could turn his world inside out.
Not worth the risk.
* * *
Monday, Megan couldn’t believe how the atmosphere on the set crackled with tension, a one-hundred-eighty-degree shift from Friday. Unforeseen delays had put a wrench into the schedule. Tempers flared. Voices rose. The background artists sat around with nothing to do except take up space.
An unexpected break gave Megan time to return Adam’s sunglasses. He’d forgotten them at her apartment yesterday. Passing them off in public rather than private would have been better. His friendliness and confidence appealed to her and sent her hormones into overdrive whenever he was near. But she hadn’t seen him on the set.
At his trailer, Megan removed his sunglasses from her pocket. She’d cleaned the lenses last night and placed them in a padded holder so they wouldn’t get damaged.
She had it all planned out—return the sunglasses, thank him for keeping her company yesterday and then say goodbye. No matter how much fun she had with him or how attractive he might be, keeping her distance was the smart thing to do.
This morning Eva had mentioned staying away from the lead actors. It was a generic warning, but a warning nonetheless. One that set warning bells ringing in Megan’s head. A good thing Adam seemed satisfied with being friends. What guy spent an afternoon sitting on a bed and watching movies without making a move? Not one who was attracted to her. She must have her own spot reserved in the friend zone.
His trailer door was ajar.
Megan heard a voice, Adam’s voice. He was rehearsing lines.
She waited at the door. He stopped talking. Something thudded. A book?
Megan knocked.
The door opened more from the weight of her hand against it.
“Not now,” his harsh voice barked.
Megan felt like she’d been slapped, but she didn’t think he knew it was her. She couldn’t see him through the crack in the door. He doubted she could see him. “I have your sunglasses.”
“Keep them.”
She tried not to take his impatient tone personally. His moodiness was a total shift from how lighthearted he’d been yesterday. But she wasn’t keeping his sunglasses. She wanted nothing to tie her to Adam, not even a little bit. For the sake of her internship, she rationalized. “I’ll set them inside the door.”
“Whatever.”
As Megan opened the door farther, she saw Adam. He faced to the right side of the trailer, giving her a view of his profile.
Deep lines on his forehead and around his frowning mouth matched the tension in the air. He stared at the script in his hands. His grip tightened until an edge crinkled. With a shake of his head, he smoothed the wrinkles on the page with his thumb.
She hated how pained he seemed. But he’d made it clear he didn’t want company. Time to get out of here. She set the sunglasses on a table.
As she backed out of the trailer, the door creaked.
He cursed. “Just go.”
She hesitated. Adam looked like he needed a friend or a hug, but she doubted he’d admit it. “I’m going.”
He glanced up from the script. “Megan?”
The emotion in his eyes filled her with compassion. His gaze, usually full of confidence and strength, contained a look she knew well—one of nerves and self-doubt.
Megan’s heart melted at his unexpected vulnerability. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I wanted to return your sunglasses.”
He dragged his hand through his hair, looking tortured. “Ignore me. I’m in a bad mood. The scene I’m shooting soon is killing me. I can’t get the lines right.”
She had no idea he took his acting so seriously. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“There is.” He handed her the script. “Read Calliope’s part.”
Maxwell’s wife. Lane Gregory’s role. Megan’s stomach knotted. “O-kay, but I’m better dressing and undressing actors than being one.”
Adam didn’t crack a smile. He pointed to a line. “I’m going to start here. Ready?”
She nodded, even though she felt completely out of her element.
“Tell me the truth.” He gazed deeply into Megan’s eyes, making her insides quiver. “Are you involved in this?”
Megan glanced at the script. “Unbelievable. After everything we’ve been through...”
“Calliope.”
His anguish, both visible and verbal, gave Megan goose bumps. “Max.”
“Answer my question.”
“You know my father. He thinks women are incapable of anything other than shopping and sex. He has never involved me in his business dealings. Legal or otherwise.”
A beat passed. And another.
His nostrils flared. “Do you love me?”
His words sounded...mean. Spiteful. Wrong.
“Of course, I, um...” Her tongue stumbled over the next word. She lost her place in the script. “Sorry.”
“It’s not you,” Adam said. “Those four words get me every time.”
Do you love me?
A warm and fuzzy feeling flowed through her. She could fall in love with him.
Correction. Not Adam, Rob. She could fall in love with Rob.
Wait. She was already in love with Rob. At least she thought she was. She clutched the script.
“The emotion is off,” Adam continued.
“You sounded mean, angry.”
He blew out a puff of air. “I’m hitting the wrong notes. Maxwell wouldn’t feel that way here. He’s confused, trying to figure out what’s going on and who set him up.”
The frustration in Adam’s voice tugged at Megan’s heart. She wanted to help him. She’d never acted, but she’d spent plenty of time at the theater in college. She’d taken film courses because character and story could be enhanced by costumes. Surely all those hours hadn’t been a waste of time and tuition.
She thought for a moment. “What do you want Calliope’s answer to be? Not you, I mean, Maxwell.”
Adam’s brow furrowed. “I know what she says.”
“So do I.” Megan waved the script. “But is that the answer Maxwell wants to hear? Is he expecting her to say she doesn’t or is he hoping she does? That might help you figure out the right emotion to use.”
Adam closed his eyes. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
She stayed quiet so she wouldn’t disturb him.
A minute, maybe two, passed. His eyes opened. The creases on his forehead remained, but they weren’t as deep. The lines bracketing his mouth relaxed. “Let’s try it again.”
The dialogue flowed smoother this time. Megan still wasn’t sure what she was doing, but knowing she was helping made her relax a little.
“You know my father. He thinks women are incapable of anything other than shopping and sex. He has never involved me in his business dealings. Legal or otherwise.”
A beat passed. And another.
“Do you love me?” Anxiety gave an edge to the anticipation in his voice.
“Of course I love you.” She sounded husky, unnatural.
“Prove it.”
The potent mix of hope and fear in Adam’s gaze mesmerized her. The line she was supposed to say flew from her mind. She glanced down at the script but the words had blurred.
Megan parted her lips, as if that would be enough of a prompt to make her remember what she was supposed to say.
“If you won’t,” he said. “I will.”
Adam lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss jolted her. She gasped, but didn’t back away.
Heat. Sparks. Proverbial fireworks.
His lips moved over hers with an expertise that left her breathless and wanting more. He touched her with only his mouth, but sensation pulsated through her until she curled her toes.
She arched against him, wanting to be closer to him. Her arms circled him. Her hands splayed his back.
The fireworks continued. The kissing, too.
Slowly Adam ended the kiss and stepped back.
Her lips tingled. Her heart pounded.
Adam looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something.
Another kiss? Anticipation soared. “What?” she asked.
He blinked twice, then turned the script toward him. He ran his finger along the page, as if he’d lost his place, too, and pointed. “It’s your line.”
He sounded a little breathy. From the kiss? She hoped so because that was exactly how she sounded, too.
Megan focused on the words and reread. The script called for a passionate kiss between Calliope and Maxwell. Her heart dropped to her feet. The kiss hadn’t been an impromptu one. It had followed one of the lines of dialogue.
Adam must have gotten caught up in the scene and kissed her, assuming she was going along with it, too.
Except she’d thought the kiss was for real. But while kissing him might have felt like the Fourth of July, the fireworks hadn’t been real. This was a rehearsal for when he kissed another woman, a beautiful, sexy woman. Nothing more.
Instead of fueled by a mutual attraction and heat, the kiss had no real emotion to it. At least not from Adam. He flirted and was used to kissing women while acting. This wasn’t about her or him but his career. That was where his vulnerability lay. If he truly had any interest in something deeper than friendship, he couldn’t have kissed her so passionately, then stand there like it meant nothing.
But he was standing there as if nothing had happened between them.
Megan struggled to breathe. She needed to get away from him. Now.
“I need to get back to work.” She handed him the script. “You don’t need me anymore. You nailed the line.”
His gaze remained on her. “Thanks for the help.”
Megan didn’t know how to reply because right now she was wishing she’d never stepped foot in his trailer. That kiss would stay with her a long time. Maybe forever.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
With that, Megan exited the trailer. She hurried back to the costume area. She touched her lips, still tingling and swollen. Losing herself in Adam’s kiss had been a severe lapse of judgment, one she couldn’t repeat. And wouldn’t.
No matter how much she might want to kiss him again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A THIRTYSOMETHING makeup artist named Basil patted Adam’s forehead with a towel after the shoot had finally ended. The man beamed as bright as the silver earrings dangling from his earlobes. “You were simply amazing, Adam. If that kiss with Lane isn’t nominated for an award, if it doesn’t win, I’ll eat a big fat beef burger.”
He looked at Basil. “But you’re a vegan.”
Basil winked. “Exactly.”
A satisfied feeling settled in the center of Adam’s chest. The big emotional scene with Lane had gone off without a hitch. He wished he could take credit for his performance during all the takes this afternoon, but that belonged to one person—Megan. He’d gotten himself so worked up about flubbing his lines and making a fool of himself that he hadn’t been able to think straight. She’d been a voice of reason, an angel saving him from embarrassment, a devil kissing him until the only thing he could think about was her. And more of her kisses.
Aware of Basil’s gaze, Adam smiled. “Thanks. Appreciate your support.”
Basil pulled the towel away with a flourish. Not surprising given the makeup artist’s passion for flamenco dancing. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Adam glanced around to see if Megan was on the set. Producers and invited guests sat in an area to the right of the set with cushy leather couches to lounge on and monitors to watch. The rest of the crew was either scattered among the cameras, lighting or other equipment.
No Megan.
He’d wanted her to see how well he did. He wanted to thank her. The way she’d kissed him this morning had rendered him speechless. He’d been turned on and uncertain at the same time. Not a good combination.
“You naughty boy,” Lane whispered from behind him. “Not letting me know you kissed like that. I was hoping Damon needed another close-up.”
Adam hadn’t been thinking about Lane while kissing her. Calliope hadn’t entered his head, either. Only Megan. She might seem like a forever type of girl, but she had kissed him back eagerly, almost recklessly. Maybe acting the part of Calliope had given her the chance to break free of whatever was holding her back and making her cling to her so-called plans. He had to wonder how reckless she might be willing to be with him.
“Just playing my part,” he said.
“We should practice for our upcoming love scene.” Lane blew softly in his ear, making him want to scratch the affected skin. “Your trailer or mine?”
The woman was relentless, even though her fiancé was somewhere on the set. “I told you my rules.”
Lane frowned. “I thought you were a player.”
Adam wasn’t about to play with her. “You’re in a league by yourself. I wouldn’t want to try to compete there.”
Confusion clouded her gaze.
This was his opportunity to go. “I need to change. So do you.”
As Adam walked toward the dressing rooms, crew members gave him kudos and atta-boys for his work. Everyone said they couldn’t wait to see the dailies. Neither could he. That acting nomination was getting so much closer Adam could taste it.
It took him over a half hour to reach the dressing room due to receiving so many accolades. Rosie was waiting for him. Megan, too.
Today kept getting better and better. Adam smiled at the two women, but his gaze lingered on the intern.
Megan’s cheeks were no longer flushed. Her lips didn’t look as swollen from kissing him this morning. A lanyard with laminated pictures of actors in their costumes hung around her neck. Comparing a character to the picture gave the costume dressers a fast and easy way to determine continuity between takes. He kicked off his shoes. “Sorry it took me so long, ladies.”
“No worries.” Rosie placed his shoes into a labeled bag. “You earned every single one of those compliments. Great job.”
“You were watching?”
Rosie nodded. “We all were.”
Megan must have watched, too. That pleased him. But she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Adam didn’t know if that was because of their earlier kiss or the scenes he’d shot. He liked the idea she might be jealous of him kissing Lane all afternoon, but that was probably stretching things given her feelings for Rob, the engineering bozo with the supposedly high IQ.
“Thanks,” Adam said.
“Texas has been enlisted to help today,” Rosie explained. “Kenna was called in to assist with Lane, who’s acting more like a spoiled brat than America’s sweetheart.”
His fault. Now the crew would have to put up with Lane being in a bad mood. He’d be buying the rounds on Friday night after Damon showed this week’s dailies. Spending money on the crew was better than fooling around with Lane. “I’m sure you’ll show Megan the ropes.”
“Speaking of ropes.” Rosie winked. “After seeing the way you kissed Lane, Texas might have to tie me up to keep me in line with you.”
Adam’s gaze met Megan’s. “Promises, promises.”
She blushed, turning her cheeks a pretty pink.
“Let’s get you out of this costume,” Rosie said.
A wicked idea formed in his head. Remembering the feel of Megan’s lips on his, her sweet, warm taste, he wondered what it would be like to have her undress him. Adam flexed his fingers. “I have stuff on my hands. Would you mind?”
“I’ll get a wet cloth,” Megan offered.
“No, we’ve taken long enough. We still have to get ready for the close-up shot.” Rosie removed his accessories, checking them off on her inventory list and placing them in Ziploc bags. She pinned that to the accessory holder, a muslin sleeve that was a foot to a
foot and a half long. “Unbutton Adam’s shirt for him.”
Megan inhaled sharply.
He almost felt bad for her deer-in-the-headlights expression. Emphasis on almost. He planned to make the most of this unexpected opportunity.
Megan’s fingers trembled as she reached for his shirt button.
Her nervousness tugged at his heart. “I don’t bite.”
“He doesn’t.” Rosie removed his watch and placed it in a Ziploc plastic bag. “Adam’s more a nibbler.”
“You know this how?” he asked jokingly.
Rosie grinned. “I have my sources.”
“Sources that are wrong,” he countered.
Megan’s fingers fumbled. She finally unfastened one, but she wasn’t smiling.
Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
“So you’re a biter, then?” Rosie teased.
Megan’s fingers slipped off the next button. Her fingertips brushed his chest. Heat pooled where she touched him.
Some strong physical attraction...chemistry there. But he’d known that from their kiss.
Her flushed cheeks deepened from pink to red. “Sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I should have had Basil deal with my hands before coming here.” Adam wanted her to laugh, not be nervous and tense. “You’re doing great.”
Rosie’s phone beeped. She checked the touch screen, then grimaced. “I’ll be right back.”
With that, she dashed out of the dressing room.
Megan’s hands froze. “Your hands are fine. Basil took care of them, didn’t he?”
Adam smiled sheepishly. “I knew you were a sharp one.”
She placed her arms at her sides. “Hurry up and unbutton your shirt before Rosie gets back. Pants, too. I’m not unzipping your zipper.”
Adam would have loved her to unzip him, but he’d given Megan enough grief. He did as she’d asked.
She readied a hanger for his shirt. “You and Lane were great today. You, especially. I didn’t think you could be any better than you were this morning. I was wrong.”
Others’ compliments paled in comparison to hers. “I was hoping you were there.”
“I wanted to be there,” Megan admitted. “But I didn’t realize there would be so many takes for one kiss.”
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