by Lexi C. Foss
“Got it,” said one of the techies.
“You’re going to need a wardrobe change before we continue filming.” Paul was looking at me when he said it.
“Uh, it’s almost midnight. My only wardrobe-changing plans are to put on pajamas and go to bed.” Preferably in Evan’s arms again.
“Oh no, we have too much time to make up here.” He poked Evan’s shoulder. “You’ve been holding out on me. I wasn’t sure how to handle you dismissing Leanne ahead of schedule or insisting on the graveyard date, but now I can see the real you. All those other kisses were shit compared to what you just did with Sarah. I need more of this Evan”—another poke—“for this series to sell.”
He turned to another crew member. “Grab Amber and put her in that dress from their date. Get Tiffany and Kristin, too. And Georgiana. We’re redoing everything.”
Evan faced the director and folded his arms. “I have no interest in redoing that scene or any others. They’re fine as is.”
“Look, Evan, sex sells, and so far, all I have on film is a bunch of virginal shit no one is going to want to watch. That kiss you just landed on her is what I wanted the first night of filming. You’ve been holding out on me, and it stops now.”
I was starting to hate this guy.
“I’m not contractually obligated to make out on film,” Evan pointed out.
“No, but you are contractually obligated to do what I need you to do to make this show a hit. If you don’t, I have to tell the producers that you were disagreeable, which is a violation of your contract. Ask that fancy lawyer of yours what will happen then.”
From what I understood, if Evan didn’t try to make this work, they would take the company away from him. Rachel said Garrett was one of the best attorneys in the South. He no doubt looked for a get-out clause in whatever legal document Evan’s parents were holding over his head. That meant he had to do whatever was best for the show and go along with Paul’s rules, or he risked losing everything. What a predicament to be in.
“Look, it’s my job to make sure this show takes off, and if you continue holding back, I’m going to fail, which means you fail. So we’re redoing the kisses with Amber, Tiffany, and Kristin, adding a few more scenes between you and Sarah, and we’re doing it all tonight. I have six weeks to turn this shit show around, and we’re already behind schedule. So get with the fucking program.” He clapped his hands at the crew and started shouting orders while Evan’s expression blanked.
I placed a hand over his heart. It was the only comfort I could give him. This wasn’t how I wanted to spend tonight. His pupils were so dilated I couldn’t see any of the dark chocolate I loved so much. I leaned up to kiss him. It was meant to be a tender touch, to offer him peace, but the lights flickered on and ruined it.
Instead of pulling away, he deepened the kiss and gave them more of what they wanted. But it wasn’t the same. The passion was replaced by a man going through the motions. It was all skill and no depth. My toes didn’t curl, butterflies didn’t form, and my panties were dry. It was like kissing a robot. Not sexy, and it became the theme of the night. Every room they put us in, every kiss they forced on us was all the same. It lacked passion, but Paul liked it and said our chemistry was what the show needed.
I didn’t see the scene he recaptured with Amber or the ones they ended up redoing with Tiffany and Kristin. I was too busy putting on the assistant dress from last week and redoing my makeup and hair.
It was five o’clock in the morning when they put us back in the office together. I was exhausted, grumpy, and not in the mood to flirt with anyone, which was why I did everything Paul told me to do. I wanted it over with so I could get the hell away from everyone. Evan and I ended up making out on the assistant’s desk. It was so slutty and wrong that it turned my stomach. I had to bury my head in his shoulder after they were done filming to hide my revulsion.
“That’s enough for tonight. We need to sleep.” The authority in Evan’s voice reverberated in my chest. I wished he would have stepped in hours ago, but he went along with Paul’s requests on autopilot. He was picking his battles. I couldn’t blame him, but that didn’t mean I was happy to be awake and dressed in a tight black dress with my legs wrapped around his waist.
When I got back to my room, I collapsed onto the bed in the stupid outfit, kicked off my shoes, and curled into a ball. The whole office scene degraded my character, and that fucking pissed me off. I was not the kind of woman to bend over and pick up a pencil in an attempt to seduce my boss. But Paul insisted, and I was too exhausted to fight him on it. There were angry tears in my eyes when my phone buzzed. I picked it up to read Evan’s message.
They’re making me redo interviews now. Get some sleep, Sarah. We’ll talk tomorrow.
I texted back, Okay. I wasn’t in the mood to see him after all the crap the show put us through tonight. The emotional roller coaster that was today needed to end. I set my phone aside and refused to look at it again until the morning.
* * *
Paul’s madness continued the next morning.
There were eleven of us left after the recent eliminations, and we were all required to attend a pool party with our prince. I was surprised the director didn’t organize this scene sooner. Bikini-clad women groping the man of the hour in the hot tub seemed like opening-credit material after last night’s shenanigans.
Despite being surrounded by half-naked women, Evan’s smile never reached his eyes. He kissed women indiscriminately throughout the day, giving Paul exactly what he wanted and making me feel ill. The worst was Amber straddling him in the hot tub and sticking her tongue down his throat. I was trapped across from them and forced to watch thanks to the camera in my face. Acting wasn’t necessary. All the warmth drained from my body, making me frigid as ice.
When the torture ended, I couldn’t look at Evan. It was irrational and childish to blame him. I knew why this was happening, and it was my fault for developing feelings for him beyond lust, but did he have to grab Amber’s ass like that?
He texted me while I was packing my suitcase, something we were given minimal time to do. I knew we were headed to his house next, but that didn’t explain why I needed to be in my formal wear.
“Be in the lobby by six o’clock in the formal gown we left outside each of your doors,” Carrie instructed after our playtime in the pool.
I scanned Evan’s message. I’m so sorry, Sarah. He sent a similar one after I fell asleep last night. I never replied and felt obligated to do so now.
Not your fault. I blamed Paul, and the archaic contract that forced Evan into this mess, more than anyone.
Every scene today left me feeling degraded and sick to my stomach, but I only had to film with him. I couldn’t imagine how he felt kissing a dozen girls on command and letting them grope him. I doubted he hated it—he was a man, after all—but he couldn’t love it either. The intensity never touched his eyes today, nor did his dimples flash. Despite the easy smiles and laughs, there was a depth to every move that was missing, like he turned off his emotions to get through today.
It killed me. My heart hurt each time he touched another woman, and yet I felt worse for him than I did for myself. This was why I didn’t want to get involved with him beyond a sexual connection. It was too complicated. There wasn’t a future between us. There wasn’t even a now between us. Falling for an unavailable man was a stupid thing to do, yet my heart had other ideas. At some point, he cracked my emotional armor and wormed his way inside.
The solution was obvious. We needed to keep our relationship professional. That meant kissing for the cameras only and no more midnight rendezvous in my room. It would kill a part of me to do it, but better to feel that pain now than to let this go any further.
I turned off the phone and packed it deep in my suitcase. I wouldn’t put it past the crew to search my belongings. I hid the cord in a different compartment and put everything by the door. My laundry was in its own bag; one of the few perks of the show was tha
t I didn’t have to wash clothes. Someone else would be doing that for me and leaving it in my new room at Evan’s estate.
I shivered. I’ll be sleeping down the hall from him. Last night, I was elated. Tonight, I was nervous. Putting a stop to our intimacy was going to be hard enough without the added temptation of him being a few feet away. I could kiss him mechanically on film. I did it all day. In private? There was nothing mechanical about it. Fuck. It was going to be a long night. I hoped the door came with a lock.
20
Friends with Minor Benefits
The key Evan handed me during the surprise elimination ceremony was a prop. The ceremony was an elaborate ordeal where he invited ten of us to move into his house. Kathy was sent home, while Amber and I were given the keys to his wing. I didn’t know what the damn thing opened or unlocked, but it wasn’t the door to my new suite.
The Mershano Estate was gorgeous, sitting on several hundreds of acres about thirty miles from New Orleans. It was dark when we arrived, but the grounds surrounding the illuminated mansion were astounding. We didn’t have to report to Paul until noon tomorrow, giving me all morning to explore. I planned to go for a run. My body was complaining about the rich food and lack of exercise over the last two weeks. I could also use the mental freedom that accompanied a good workout.
My room was about twice the size of the one I stayed in at the hotel, with a full couch, entertainment center, king-size bed, and windows that overlooked the back of the property. The pool was lit up outside and being used by a few of the girls. It was huge, with hot tubs on either side and lounge chairs sprawled around it. Heavenly. Too bad everything else was a nightmare.
I unpacked my suitcase and took advantage of the empty closet and dressers. If I was going to be here for a month and a half, I would at least make myself at home.
The bathroom was as gorgeous as the room, with a walk-in shower, Jacuzzi tub, and double sink. As amazing as a bath sounded, I was worried I might fall asleep after the day I had, so I rinsed off in the tiled shower. Evan knocked and entered the room as I was pulling a tank top over my head. I grabbed my shorts to tug them over my thong and raised an eyebrow at him.
“Typically, it’s customary to wait until the girl opens the door.”
He swallowed. “Sorry, you weren’t answering the phone.”
“Yeah, it’s on the nightstand and currently off.” I walked back into the bathroom to grab a comb for my hair. He stood off to the side, leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes pensive. His red shirt stretched across his chest, and his feet were bare. This was like being on a diet and trying to say no to dessert. The devil on my shoulder was whispering all sorts of naughty things in my ear.
One bite won’t hurt you, Sarah. Just a few licks. You’ll be okay. You can start the diet tomorrow.
“I think we need to talk.” He took the words right out of my mouth.
“I think we do, too.” I set the brush down and followed him over to the couch instead of the bed. It seemed we both had the same conversation in mind. The realization made my chest hurt. I knew this had to happen, but that didn’t mean I wanted it to. Breaking up with my boyfriend of eighteen months hurt less than ending this, and Evan and I weren’t even dating. It was because I had a chance to grow tired of Kevin, but what I had going with Evan was new and fresh. We were killing it before it had a chance to bloom, and that’s why this bothered me.
I would get over it.
Eventually.
“So today sucked,” was his eloquent start.
“An understatement.” I hugged my knees to my chest. He sat opposite me on the couch, leaving a foot of space between us.
“I’ll get right to the point, Sarah. I don’t want things to end between us, not when they’ve only just started, but I also don’t want to hurt you. The way you wouldn’t look at me today tells me I’ve already failed on that front, so I need to know, what do you want to happen here?” His matter-of-fact tone was a breath of fresh air. No games. No apologies. Just a straightforward assessment of the issue. Very businesslike.
“You’re right; today hurt. I don’t want to stop these nightly visits either, but it’s what we need to do. Before whatever this is gets messier and hurts me more.” I bit my lip, contemplating what else I needed to say. “I went into this with my eyes wide open. I knew what would be required of you, and I accepted it, but today taught me there’s a difference between acceptance and handling the reality. I don’t think I can handle it. It’s not your fault; it’s mine. And I’m sorry for it.”
His brow wrinkled. “Did you just apologize to me for not being able to handle my dating nine other women and making out with them in front you?”
“Well, yeah. I told you it wouldn’t bother me when this started, but now I’m saying it does. That’s not okay.” His gaze was assessing, and then he shocked me by laughing. A full-hearted, belly-aching kind of laugh that could no doubt be heard in the hallway. Affronted, I glared at him. “This isn’t funny, Evan.”
“No, it’s not,” he agreed, still laughing.
“Then why are you laughing at me?”
“I’m not. Well, I am. A little.” He chuckled again, making me want to kick him. “Any other woman—hell, any other person—would expect me to apologize in this situation. Not you.”
“And that’s funny to you?”
“Not at all. I’m shocked. I came here tonight expecting to grovel, and you’ve thrown me for a loop. Of all the scenarios I expected, this was not one of them.” He gave me a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry for laughing at you.”
It was the dimples that did me in. I missed seeing them today. “Fine. You’re forgiven.” His laugh was so full of life and pent-up emotion he needed to let out. I couldn’t fault him for that. And he was too adorable to stay angry at.
“Look, I’m sorry for the last twenty-four hours. Paul was out of line, especially when it came to you. I should have put a stop to it.” He lifted his hand as if to touch me, but thought better of it. “I’m sorry.”
“I should have stopped him, not you.” I didn’t need him to fight my battles for me. “You don’t need to apologize for anything here. I get it. And if we weren’t involved in this damn show, things between us might be different.” I would have never met him, for one.
“Sarah, I like spending time with you. I like kissing you as well. But I can keep my hands to myself if that’s what you want. What do you think?”
I think that I like kissing you, too. And I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself at all. But I couldn’t tell him that. “What exactly are you proposing?”
“That we still see each other at night, just without the physical component.”
“Like friends.”
“Exactly. We’re going into business together, after all—might as well start building that relationship now.”
“No benefits, except for the kissing on camera.” Which would be robotic and lack passion. I could handle that.
His gaze smoldered as he took in my bare legs. “If that’s what you want, then yes.”
“You can’t look at me like that.”
“The no-touching aspect I can manage, but sweetheart, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop looking at you like this.” At least he was honest. “I can promise not to act on it unless given permission.”
“You make me sound like a chaste virgin or something.”
He chuckled. “With that mouth? Never.”
“Friends don’t talk to each other that way.” My nipples were hard under my shirt. Another thing friends didn’t do around each other.
“We’ll have a unique friendship, then. What do you say, Sarah? Please don’t shun me. I know I deserve it after all the crap today, but I’m hoping you’ll take pity on me.”
“Yes, poor Evan had to kiss eight women today.”
“Nine,” he corrected. “And trust me, that took work.”
“You were just making up for lost time.”
He
huffed a breath of irritation. “I’m going to punch Paul in the face if he says that to me again tomorrow.”
“I would really enjoy seeing that.”
“Then I’ll make sure you have front-row seats. Oh.” He jumped up to do something to the television. It flickered to life, and he grabbed a remote. “Before you decide, I want to show you something.” He collapsed back onto the couch and pulled up a movie menu.
When he hovered over a title, I jumped up and down in my seat, excited. “You downloaded Nosferatu.”
“I told you I wanted to watch it. I meant it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Nothing sexy or romantic about this, right?”
Other than you showing interest in something I love? “Nope.”
“A good friend movie?”
“Yep.”
“So I can stay and watch it with you.”
It was half past ten, and the movie was close to an hour and a half, putting me in bed around midnight. Plenty of time to get some sleep and go for a run in the morning. “I’m only saying yes because it’s what a good friend would do in this situation.”
“Duly noted.” He got up to turn off the lights and then settled down beside me on the couch with his legs sprawled out. “Snuggling is permitted if you get scared. As friends.”
“Uh-huh.” I extended my legs so my calves rested against his thighs. “Foot massages are friendly, too.”
“Sneaky,” he murmured. “I like it.” He hit play and dropped the remote in favor of my right foot. His thumb hit my arch, sending electric shocks up my leg to the apex between my thighs.
Okay, so maybe not entirely friendly.
Nosferatu was one of my favorite movies, but for the first time, I wasn’t engrossed by it. Not with Evan’s hands running up and down my calves and massaging my feet. He never took it further, always staying below my knee. Not that my hormones cared. I was so turned on by the time the movie ended, I couldn’t breathe.