“Compromise?”
Taylor inclined her head. “I’m listening.”
“Breakfast Club.”
“You’re on.”
Isabel popped popcorn and joined Taylor on the couch. They spent the evening quoting the film and losing themselves in the ease of classic dialogue. “This would never work today,” Isabel said midway through the film. “You leave those kids alone in a library and they’re going to be glued to their cell phones the whole time.”
She glanced back at Isabel and couldn’t help but notice the smooth column of her neck. She swallowed the visceral reaction and focused on the words Isabel had just spoken. “It’d be a much quieter film. That’s for sure. You know Hughes wrote the draft, tossed it in a drawer, and left it there for a very long time?”
Isabel leaned back. “I can’t imagine having written something so profound and then throwing it aside and going on with my life.”
Taylor nodded. “Yeah, well, that just shows that we’re not always the best judge of our own—” Her cell phone buzzed loudly from its spot on the coffee table. “Sorry,” she said, embarrassed. She glanced at the readout, cringed at yet another flirtatious invite from Aspen, and slid the phone into her pocket. But not before Isabel had a chance to see it.
“She texts you a lot, doesn’t she? That makes four or five times tonight.”
“She’s still not out of the transition phase. She’ll get there.”
“Is that what you want, too?” Isabel asked. “To be out of the phase?”
Taylor sighed, feeling the need to be up front with Isabel but not wanting to get into Aspen and all of the issues that came with her. “It is. And I think she means well, she’s just locked in a pattern.”
“The pattern of wanting you with her twenty-four seven?”
Isabel wasn’t wrong, and sooner or later something was going to have to give. Taylor turned to her. “If it’s okay, I’d rather not dwell on Aspen. I’m having too good a time.”
Isabel grinned. “Then we won’t.” They readjusted, closer now on the couch, and focused on the film, a bowl of popcorn between them. Twenty minutes later, Taylor glanced down and noticed that her left hand lay in front of the bowl in very close proximity to Isabel’s right. She wondered how long they’d been sitting like that and if Isabel had noticed. Should she slide her hand away, or would that just make it weird? She raised her gaze to find Isabel watching her, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. With her pinkie, Isabel lightly touched Taylor’s, just for a moment. When she pulled her pinkie away with raised eyebrows, Taylor laughed. A burst of warmth blossomed in her chest and spread. With a shake of her head, they turned back to the film and, for its duration, relaxed further and further against each other, enjoying the movie, each other’s company, and the night. Well, as much as one could relax with Isabel Chase next to them, smelling like cucumber body wash and looking like a model for moisturizer.
Somehow, she managed.
*****
It was after midnight by the time the credits rolled, and Isabel found herself wishing the night could go on. “Another one?” she asked with a sly smile.
Taylor turned to her, sleepy and sexy. “Tempting, but no. Thank you for hosting, and for the invitation tonight. It was nice to just…escape for a short while.” Isabel understood the sentiment entirely.
“You’re welcome to escape here anytime you like,” she said quietly. They stared at each other for a moment, and Isabel enjoyed the light flecks of turquoise that swam in the green of Taylor’s luminous eyes. She wondered what the name for that color combination was. She was tempted to look it up. Eyes like those didn’t come around too often.
“Whoa!” Taylor said, shattering Isabel’s daydream and jerking upright on the couch. “What was that?”
She knew exactly what it was. “Did it feel like the swipe of a furry paw on a mission?” Taylor nodded, her feet suspended in midair. “That would be Fat Tony, who is most likely stalking us quietly from beneath the couch. He’s my cat. He’s probably been asleep. I should have mentioned him.”
“A cat? You have a cat.”
“I do. He’s a total jerk, so I like him.”
Taylor chuckled nervously as Isabel ducked down in search of him.
“Tony, come out and say hello, you adorable ball of fur.” His answer was a roundhouse swipe of epic proportions.
“Wow. He doesn’t mess around,” Taylor said. “Why Fat Tony?”
Isabel met her eyes. “If he’d show himself, you’d get it.”
“Oh no!” Taylor said, lifting her feet at lightning speed. “Another one. He’s bound and determined. I don’t think he likes me.”
“He doesn’t like anyone.” The sound of hacking floated their way next. “Hairball,” Isabel informed her quite seriously, as Taylor fell into laughter. “Come on. He’s a cat with a lot going on.”
“I’m gathering that,” Taylor said, sucking in a breath as the laughter faded. “I can identify.” Just as she lowered one foot to the ground, Tony swiped again mid-hack, which only made Taylor laugh harder. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It’s just the hacking in combination with the attack. It’s…unexpected.”
“You have a great laugh,” Isabel told her, enjoying the fullness of the sound. Maybe she shouldn’t have said so, but in that moment, she couldn’t make herself care about studio protocol.
“It’s not my most delicate attribute. My father said I sound like a drunken sailor when I get going.”
Isabel nodded. “That’s a unique descriptor. I can’t say I disagree.”
“Hey!” Taylor said, but she seemed to be okay with the declaration.
“If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I call ’em like I see ’em.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware.” Taylor glanced at her bag that sat near the door. “So, do you think it’s safe to…?”
“I’ll run interference. Follow me.” Isabel stood, crouched low, and reached behind her. Taylor placed her hand in Isabel’s and was led the short distance to the doorway, unscathed by her stalker of a cat. “Delivered safe and sound,” Isabel said, turning back to Taylor. The two inches Taylor had on Isabel in the height department were especially noticeable as they stood in such proximity. She had to say that she didn’t mind those two inches at all. Not one bit.
“I appreciate the escort,” Taylor said quietly, releasing her hand. It still buzzed with warmth from the contact.
“Tony’s all talk. He really is a good boy underneath all his bullshit. He’s my guy and he also happens to be the best cat in the world. You don’t have to worry about him.”
“Good to know I’ll live to see another day.” She slid her bag onto her shoulder. “Where’d you get him?”
“I found him when he was a kitten, mewing between two trash cans outside a restaurant I worked at on a brutally cold Christmas Eve. Brought him home, fed him, took his photo inside a stocking, and he never left.”
“Aww, you’re a kind soul.”
Isabel made a point of darkening her stare. “Swear to me you won’t tell anyone.”
Taylor turned the lock on her lips and smiled. “Take care, Isabel Chase. I’ll see you at the studio.”
“Do we have to say good-bye?” Isabel asked, the air between them popping with all kinds of electricity.
“I think we do.” They stared at each other until Taylor pulled Isabel into a tight hug. The kind of hug where she could smell her wonderful hair and feel each and every curve as it pressed against hers. She experienced Taylor all over and didn’t want to let go. It seemed Taylor didn’t either, as her hands moved slowly down Isabel’s back, stopping at her waist. The result was a staggering shot of arousal, and Isabel was about to embark on a mission to satisfy it.
“Good night,” Taylor said, releasing Isabel with a final squeeze.
Isabel smiled back. “Good night, Taylor.” She opened her door and Taylor walked through it. “Will you do me a favor?”
“And wh
at is that?”
“Just send me a quick text when you get home, so I know you made it safe.”
Taylor seemed to take a minute with that one. Finally, she nodded. “I can do that.”
“Is that an annoying request? I’m sorry. It just puts me on edge to think of you out so late on your own and—”
“No. The opposite,” Taylor said, running her hand through her hair, looking thoughtful. “It’s been a while since anyone’s…” She waved her hand as if to move past it and adjusted. “Thank you. Let’s just leave it there. I’ll be sure to text you. Good night, Isabel.”
“Good night, Taylor. Tonight was…” Isabel grappled, not sure what word would do it justice.
“Yeah, it was.” Taylor smiled and headed off across the courtyard and Isabel watched, filled with so many conflicting feelings she wasn’t sure which end was up.
Thirty-five minutes later as she pulled back the blankets to climb into bed, Isabel’s phone buzzed.
Safe and sound, the text message read. Thank you for caring.
Isabel smiled and typed back, Fat Tony will be glad to hear it. I am, too. As she clicked off the light and slid between the cool sheets, she ran a hand under her shirt, across her stomach, landing on one of her breasts. She gasped at the little pulses of pleasure that hit and radiated outward. While her brain relaxed and craved respite, her body felt alive, awake, and anything but sleepy. Taylor had done that. Her nipples ached with sensitivity and her skin tingled almost uncomfortably.
If only she’d made a move. She hadn’t been alone in that moment at the door. Taylor had felt it, too.
She shifted beneath the weight of the covers and couldn’t help but wish it was Taylor pressed up against her. She blew out a slow breath, closed her eyes, and let herself imagine. Was her ridiculous heart beating way too fast, all inspired by a hint of pinkie action on a couch and a long hug good night? Why, yes, it was.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twelve
When Taylor arrived at the Water offices on Monday morning, she found a sixteen-ounce cup of some of the best coffee she’d ever experienced waiting for her on her desk. The dark blue to-go cup came with the logo of a cartoon cat wearing some very loud pajamas. She smiled at just how quickly it brightened her day.
“Courtesy of the newest staff writer,” Scarlett told her from the doorway. She held up a cup of her own. “Why is it so good? Why?”
Taylor took a moment to bask in the amazing sip she’d just taken. “Something to do with the roasting technique. I’ll need to investigate further.”
Scarlett sighed. “We needed this today.”
“Don’t remind me.” She powered up her laptop, ready to tackle all the email that had slipped past her over the weekend.
“Are you ready for it? The table read?” Scarlett asked. It was a big day. The cast and crew would gather for a table read of one of the more controversial scripts they’d put out, and Taylor, for one, wasn’t sure how the new storyline reveal would go over. With Aspen in particular.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. Would you let Lyric know that I’ll head to the Sister Dale set later this afternoon? Remind her that we have a story meeting so she doesn’t book a manicure or something.” It sounded snarky, but she’d already been stood up for a variety of spa appointments in the middle of the workday and wasn’t about to let it happen again. But first, she anticipated fires on her own set and needed to be present to put them out.
Her fears were not misplaced.
“Wait. What?” Aspen said loudly, glancing up from her script in horror. The cast and creatives dotted the long table, assembled for the read-through. Isabel sat across the table from Taylor, looking on with a steady gaze. She was bound to be nervous. This was her baby. But Taylor had anticipated Aspen’s reaction and had prepped her staff well in advance with a “leave her to me.”
“Lisette is stealing her sister’s fiancé?” Aspen spat out. “Do I have that right? The very couple that you guys have been writing as endgame since last season? She would never do that. She would never break them up. She loves her little sister.”
“So much for America’s Sweetheart,” a male cast member said, with a smile.
Taylor shot him a look. Not helping. Not helping at all.
“I think that’s why it works, honestly,” Isabel said. “We’re exploring a new side to Lisette, one the audience, and maybe even Lisette herself, hasn’t seen. She’s only human.”
Taylor had to give her credit. Not too many fledgling writers would publicly push back against the star of the show.
“You wrote this?” Aspen asked, holding up the script.
Isabel nodded, steady as ever. “I did.”
Aspen turned her focus to Taylor. “And you greenlit her script?”
“Why don’t we finish the read before we move into discussion?” Taylor said professionally. She needed to steer them back on course and avoid a tantrum in front of the very cast Aspen was supposed to lead.
“Because I’m not sure I want to finish.” Aspen looked Taylor straight in the eye and sat back in her chair, arms crossed like a petulant child. The challenge was clear. This wasn’t about the storyline as much as it was Aspen’s need to be universally loved and revered, even via her character, which was unreasonable. It probably didn’t help that Taylor hadn’t answered her texts Saturday night.
Taylor stood and addressed the room. “Let’s take ten, everyone, and meet back here for the rest of the read then.” She watched as the cast and production team exchanged nervous, knowing, and in some cases, amused looks across the table. Aspen, however, stormed immediately to her trailer.
Isabel turned to her, eyes wide. “What do we do?”
“Let me handle it.” She rose from her chair calmly, grabbed a bottle of water from the craft services table, and walked the row of trailers outside until she found Aspen’s. No big deal. No need to draw attention to an already unfortunate situation. People would look to her for cues, and she would be the picture of serenity if it killed her. She knocked softly and smiled at the second AD as she walked past.
“Come in,” Aspen called, sounding as if someone had died. Taylor didn’t let the dramatics faze her. She let herself in and found Aspen sitting on the couch, perusing a magazine, her eyes never leaving the pages. “I’m not okay with this,” she said without looking up.
“I’m gathering.” Taylor took a seat across from her. “Tell me why.”
“Because Lisette is an icon, damn it. She struggles. She has her flaws, but she’s not a man-stealing whore without any loyalty. She has to be the glue at the center of all their lives, or the whole thing doesn’t work.”
“She’s been the morality police for four seasons. Don’t you think it’s time to shake things up?”
“Not at the expense of Lisette,” she said with an aggressive flip of the page. Totally unreasonable.
“We haven’t written the rest of the arc yet, but the goal is a Lisette and Thomas relationship at the expense of her relationship to her family. Think of what a compelling playout that would be for you. You’d slay those scenes.”
“Maybe.” But she could see the spark of interest shoot to life behind Aspen’s stare. She was also fluffing her hair, which meant she was feeling energized.
“Do you trust me?”
Aspen set the magazine down, and her expression dropped to sincere. She had always been good at trading one emotion for another on a dime, especially when there was something to gain. “You know I do. I’ve always trusted you. You’re my Taylor.”
“Then don’t stop now, okay?”
Their eyes met, and those feelings from the past floated to the surface just enough for Taylor to remember how things used to be. They’d laughed together a lot, stolen moments for themselves during downtime on the set. Aspen liked high-risk situations and got off on the adrenaline. Kissing just around the corner from where people were working was a favorite of hers, and she sometimes pushed for more. Yes, life
with Aspen had been exciting and unplanned, like a drug you couldn’t get enough of. But that kind of high only lasts for so long, and on the flip side, Aspen was also manipulative, working things out so that she always got her way, playing the victim if necessary. She went out of her way to do nice things for Taylor. Aspen was known to surprise her with elaborate dinners or romantic evenings away, complete with expensive lingerie, Champagne, and a choreographed seduction. It had been nice at first, but then the fact that everything had to be over-the-top and orchestrated started to wear thin. Aspen never went small, or simple, or everyday, which proved exhausting. Sometimes it would have been nice to just sit on the couch and talk or read books together. With Aspen, those things weren’t really an option.
She also learned that for every nice thing Aspen planned for them, Taylor was expected to reciprocate quadruple-fold or never be forgiven. The relationship had taken its toll on Taylor, to say the least, and that hadn’t even touched on Aspen’s fiery temper tantrums. No dish was safe when Aspen’s ire rose to the surface, another example of her overly theatrical tendencies. In the end, Taylor had to ask herself what kind of life she wanted and whether she’d be okay replacing her dishes for many years to come. The answer had come easily. Aspen’s acceptance had not.
“You really think this is good for the show?” Aspen asked.
Taylor nodded. “I do. Can we get back to the table read?”
“One question first. Where were you Saturday?” She fluttered her eyelashes and set the magazine down. “You avoided me all day, and you know how much that hurts my feelings. I waited to hear from you. Canceled any and all plans, just in case I did, because that’s how much I care.”
Taylor closed her eyes. “We’re not together anymore, Aspen.”
“I know that,” she said, placing a hand on Taylor’s knee and giving it a tiny shake. “We’re not together right now.”
“Not just right now, though. At all. We’re colleagues.”
Aspen shook her head, but a slight smile still played. “If you say so.”
Eyes Like Those Page 15