Just a Little Camera Shy: A Scripted for Love Novel

by MK Meredith

  In the kitchen, he’d intended to thank her for stopping him the other night, but he’d been tired of fighting for the film, fighting the pull she had on him, and all thoughts of gentlemanly grace fled. He’d wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her and forget about the film for a while.

  Damned if it didn’t do the trick, too.

  Fuck.

  Business was business. Sex was sex. And he’d just taken Addi in a very un-businesslike fashion. He rubbed his hand over his face, and Addi scooted closer still, sliding a thigh up and over his. She wiggled a little.

  Shit.

  When she’d refused his “beautiful” compliment, he almost laughed at the absurdity until he’d recognized the sincerity in her face. She’d been serious. How in the hell could that woman think she was cute? Cute was a damned puppy. She was all hot flesh and warm curves wrapped around a tireless work ethic and compassionate heart. For fuck sake, even Jimmy adored her, and Jimmy didn’t adore anyone.

  Addi stirred and then stretched out, arms above her head, toes pointed long, her arched back pushing her breasts high and toward his face like an offering from heaven.

  His mouth watered. Roque wanted nothing more than to go another round, but it was late. His dick disagreed, desperately disagreed, growing to uncomfortable proportions thanks to the silky warmth lying next to him.

  What in the hell was he going to do about Addi Dekker?

  A sigh escaped his lips, already turned up in a satisfied grin. Almost as quickly, her eyes shot open and she stilled.

  Intrigued, Roque watched the emotions flitting across her face. Shock, worry, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on.

  She sat up, grabbing the sheet to her chest, and looked at him over her shoulder, biting that damn lip again. He swore that was what did him in every time.

  He reached up and ran his thumb along her lip to release it from the sharp grasp of her teeth. “Hey.”

  She darted her eyes around the room, then to the clock. “Wow. It’s late. We really need to go.”

  Roque studied her a beat. No demands, no questions about a relationship. And why did her silence sting? That was a question he didn’t want to answer.

  Addi scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up, the sheet wrapped around her lithe form. What a shame.

  She waved her finger in his direction. “You need to go. Tomorrow starts early.” Grabbing her pants, she slid them on and threw him a wink.

  He could watch the sway of her breasts as she hurriedly changed all day long. She shimmied into her top, effectively hindering his view, and he scowled.

  Raking her fingers through her hair, she waved her hand in a looping gesture hinting he should get up and out. “I’ll make the bed and lock the house. I have a few things I need to do before I go, anyway.” Throwing him a brilliant, if a bit forced, smile, she disappeared through the door and down the hallway.

  He flopped back on the bed. He’d just experienced the most mind-blowing sex he’d ever had, yet Addi got right back to business as if it were just another ordinary day.

  “Shit.”

  She called from the living room. “What was that?”

  Roque threw back the sheets and stood. “Nothing.”

  Once he was dressed, he made his way through the house to find Addi in the kitchen.

  While she stood next to the counter rummaging through her bag, he took the opportunity to study her. He was beginning to think it was his new favorite pastime. Shit, okay, second favorite pastime where she was concerned.

  Her white jeans and cream top glowed against the golden tan of her skin, lips swollen and pink, hair mussed. He liked this Addi. He liked knowing if he walked over and breathed her in, he’d smell himself as well. He liked knowing he’d made her scream and beg in pleasure—he liked knowing what that sounded like.

  He liked way too many things.

  Clearing his throat, he grabbed his keys. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Addi shot her eyes to him, that slight look of panic he couldn’t quite figure out. This time it was gone as soon as it came. “No, that’s all right. I have a few more things I want to do here first.”

  “Addi, you’ve done enough here today.”

  She rolled her eyes with a chuckle. “Seriously, this is my house. Do you know how many times I’ve walked around this yard at night, walked to and from my car at all hours?”

  He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t back down. The idea of leaving Addi to close up and walk out to her car alone didn’t sit well with him. “I insist.”

  She stared at him, then sighed. “Fine. Let me turn off the lights in here and grab my bag. I’ll meet you by the front door.”

  Stepping out into the cool, humid air, he paused and listened to the rhythmic crashing of the waves on the beach below. He closed his eyes. He needed a hammock. How perfect would that be? The moon high in the sky cast the world in a yellow glow, the crashing waves, the salty, humid air as he floated back and forth. He could see it play out perfectly on-screen. The cares of the world wouldn’t be able to intrude so easily in such a peaceful scene.

  Addi stepped out to join him, and he opened his eyes. Should it bother him that in his vision she swung with him, nestled against his side as she had only moments before? Naked, the moonlight highlighted her curves and shadowed her secrets. Any hot-blooded man would want the woman naked on a hammock.

  With a shake of his head, he stepped forward, set the alarm, and closed the door.

  She glanced back at the door longingly.

  He could relate. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to go back inside, to her bed.

  The husky purr of her voice broke through his musings. “Be careful going home, Gallagher.”

  He laughed. “Gallagher? Really?”

  “I’m trying to keep this easy.”

  The devil made him do it. Stepping close, he wrapped his hand around the back of her head, the other snaked about her waist and hauled her up to meet his body. He took her mouth before she could utter a word. He wondered if he’d ever get enough when a punch of lust hit hard and swift in his gut. All the blood rushed from his head to another less conscientious part of his body.

  She softened under his demanding mouth immediately. Diving her hands into his hair, she pressed her breasts into his chest, and he wanted to shout in victory. Tilting his head, he swept his tongue in her mouth, gliding against the silk of her. She tasted sweet with a bit of spice.

  His body tightened with need, and for a split second he considered dragging her back inside. The sun had hours before it had to get back to work, and so did he. There was a lot that could be accomplished in a few hours.

  Coming to his senses, he gently but firmly disengaged from Addi’s tempting embrace and set her back on her feet. Dropping his forehead to hers, he stole one last kiss. “One more thing.”

  “As long as it isn’t another kiss. I can barely stand as it is,” she said with a giggle.

  He grinned and cupped her cheek. “I don’t want you worrying about your job. I’m going to fix this. Got it?”

  “I know you’ll figure it out. Hollywood always finds its way.”

  “Yeah, Hollywood.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. If only Hollywood would be a bit more accommodating, he’d already have this situation figured out. But she was right. He would figure it out somehow.

  “Night, Dekker.”

  Taking her keys from her hand, he unlocked her car and held the door as she slid into the front seat. Once he was certain she was good to go, he slid behind the wheel of his own car and followed her out of the driveway.

  Addi was a distraction he didn’t have time for, but damn if he didn’t want to do that again.

  And soon.

  Addi yawned as she headed back to her house. Unfortunately, she had to drive practically all the way to Huntington Place before Roque turned off on another road so she could turn around. This idea of hers was showing its spots.

  Her fingers drifted to her swollen
lips. She could still taste Roque, smell him—feel him. She’d watched movies and read books—hell, she’d written them—where sex like that was reality, but never had she imagined it to actually be true.

  The memory of his skin sliding against hers had her legs pressing closed against the sensations. He was like the worst kind of drug, one taste and you’d kill for more. She wanted him again, naked, willing, and ready.

  Roque Gallagher knew his way around the bedroom. He was a pretty boy, Hollywood elite, who was used to getting his way by the Gallagher name alone even if he claimed to not want it. He chose a career immersed in society’s overinflated expectations and impossible standards. His work ethic was unparalleled. He treated his crew like family and put their needs ahead of his own as long as it didn’t burn the bottom line of the film.

  She grinned.

  And boy, was she glad because every bit of his experience translated into fireworks in her bedroom.

  Just then she passed Decker Canyon Road. She stared at the sign as she approached. She and her sister Sam always fancied the road was named for them, just misspelled of course. They could forgive that minor oversight. So many memories. Aunt Addi, the bungalow—her self-respect. That sobered her up a bit.

  She had to get to a place in her life where she felt good about her accomplishments. Anything else would muddy the waters, make her question her ability. The first thing was saving her home. Thanks to the film, she was well on her way. Second, start bringing in an income beyond her temporary gig as Roque’s assistant—hopefully with her writing, but she knew how slow the whole process could be. At times, she felt as if she were a mountain climber at the base of Mount Everest or a newbie actress wishing for an Academy Award. Writing was no different. The hurdles and obstacles alone were daunting, but when you added the individual subjectivity of editors, the chances became slimmer and slimmer like finding that one grain of sand on the world’s largest beach. She really wanted to be that grain of sand.

  Parking down the road under a tree overhang, she locked the car and quickly made her way down the path to her bungalow. The night was cool and a little humid; she could taste the salt of the ocean in the air.

  As she approached the front porch, she glanced around then pulled her flashlight out of her purse and unlocked the door. She quickly put in the code to satisfy the alarm, and then she closed and locked the door and reset the alarm. Its glowing light caught her attention, and she stared at the time stamp.

  Her stomach turned on end, and she shook out her hands. “Crap, crap, crap. Maybe he won’t notice.” She paced in front of the door, and then stopped again to stare at the time. “Of course he’ll notice.”

  She contemplated all the excuses she could come up with until she tasted the slightest hint of iron. Releasing her lip from its sharp enamel shackles, she swore. Damn it.

  Okay, okay, it will be fine. I’ll just say I forgot something and had to come back.

  Blowing out a breath, she willed her heart to slow. She grabbed her bag and headed to the bathroom.

  The risk was high, but she had to take a shower. Personally, she’d prefer to keep Roque’s scent on her throughout the night, but there was no way she could face him in the morning, smelling just like he did—he’d know. Whatever her lustful thoughts were, he didn’t need the ego boost.

  With the flashlight pointed straight to the ground so she could see without being plunged into darkness or allowing the light to be visible from outside, Addi grabbed her bag from under her bed and jogged to the bathroom. The quicker she could shower and get back to the attic, the better.

  Would you listen to yourself? This is ridiculous.

  After leaning the flashlight against her towel so it offered a gentle glow, she made quick work of her clothes. She stuffed them in the bag, pulled out soap and, after securing her hair on top of her head, stepped under the hot spray. She rubbed the soap until she worked it into a thick lather. Sliding her hands down the front of her body, she stilled from the sensations that sparked to life. Her nipples were still sensitive from Roque’s teeth and tongue; she slid her hands over the still swollen globes and down the plane of her stomach. Tentatively, she slowly slid her fingers between her legs. Swollen lips met the pads of her fingertips. A tightness coiled in her stomach as she experimented with a slow slide of her fingers between her folds. Every part of her was on fire. And it was damned Roque Gallagher’s fault and the images of his naked body hovering over her, pressing into her.

  The house alarm beeped, and she froze.

  Crap! Wasting no time, she turned off the water and grabbed her towel. Standing completely still she strained to listen for any sign of who was in the house.

  Her eyes fell on the glow of the flashlight. She lunged to put it out. Wet porcelain released its grip on her wet feet, and she flailed her arms to keep from falling. Her elbow connected with the shower wall in a loud thunk. Straining to hear over the blood roaring in her ears, she froze.

  Quickly, she turned off the flashlight, now more scared of being caught than being in the dark. What did it matter anyway? She wasn’t alone. Which was no comfort at all.

  She dried off, holding her breath, afraid to make a noise. Shoving her things in her bag, including the flashlight, she prayed no one had heard her. Towel and bag in hand, she stepped into the shower with care and pulled the shower curtain. Slowly, so as not to make a sound, she dragged the shower curtain closed, praying all the while for small favors, or big ones.

  Addi rubbed the walls and the sides of the tub dry. There was nothing to be done with the curtain. Just as she’d finished, the bathroom door opened.

  She held her breath. No, no, no.

  This is what her mother always told her about. Lies and tricks always caught up with a person. Would she never learn?

  Her mind screamed for her to run, but where could she go?

  The curtain flew open just as she stepped up on the edge of the tub. Squeezed against the wall, Aunt Addi’s flowing eyelet curtain settled with a swirl, obscuring her view—and hopefully the view of her company.

  She held her breath, her heart pounding so loud in her ears she was sure it could be heard a mile away. Her stomach twisted; her head pounded. Had she heard this story from a girlfriend, she’d have laughed herself silly, but in this moment, it was nothing but pure torture.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  One second, two seconds—it felt like an eternity. The dark shadow stood still.

  She knew that stillness. She knew.

  Roque.

  Chapter 13

  Roque strained to hear a sound. Any sound. He swore he’d heard something fall, a loud knock—something. The bathroom was humid and warm as if someone had just showered, but there was no sign, no sound.

  Shit, I’m losing my mind here.

  He let the curtain fall and rubbed the back of his neck. If he wasn’t going crazy, he would be by the time this film wrapped up. Between the house and Addi, he couldn’t pin down which would be the end of him first.

  At least one of them would leave a smile on his face on the way out.

  His body kicked at the thought of Addi, wanting more of their earlier activities.

  “Shit.” He padded back through the bungalow to the kitchen, picturing Addi on a Friday night, curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. He chuckled. Who was he kidding? It would be a plate of éclairs, and half of it would be smeared on her face and dripping down the front of her shirt.

  The better for you to lick it off then.

  Roque shook his head. Grabbing a beer out of the well-stocked fridge, he opened the French doors that led out to the backyard and leaned against the doorjamb. One swig, two. He released a sigh. Better already.

  After turning off Highway 1 to go home, he hadn’t been able to get Addi, the loss of his director, any of it out, of his head. Time with Addi had left him revved up, energized. If he was awake, he might as well work, so he’d turned the car and headed back to the set.

  T
here was always something more to do. Go over and approve script changes sent to him this afternoon, prepare for his next meeting with his key creative team, and Jimmy dropped off a few location proposals he needed to take a look at. There was only so much he could do out of business hours and only so much he could do in a day. With this project being his baby, he’d assumed more responsibility to offset cost. Scrimp on help, not on quality. Besides, if he was doing it, he knew it would be done right.

  He downed another long swallow of the pale ale and let the rhythm of the crashing waves below lull his racing mind as he took in the cozy details of the backyard. A large flat-stoned patio invited guests to rest in the generous lounge chairs. Lush foliage offered privacy all along the perimeter, with trees contributing shade. Off to the far right side stood two tall palms. Roque blinked. “What the hell?”

  He didn’t know how he didn’t remember, but hanging between the two palms was a well-netted hammock.

  An immediate vision of Addi lying with him, swinging a lazy sway late in the afternoon sun, came to mind.

  Shit, get your head out of your ass, man.

  His legs moved of their own accord. He lowered his weight onto the netting and leaned back.

  “Ohhhh…fucking heaven.”

  The dark sky made a velvet backdrop of midnight behind the deep green of the palm leaves. A few stars twinkled and teased. The salty ocean air and resident honeysuckle tickled his nose. Resting one hand behind his head, Roque crossed his legs at the ankle and took a long draw from his bottle.

  He stared at everything and nothing. Emptying his brain of the past few weeks as it filled with every memory. What the hell was he going to do about his film? Why, when he wanted to cleanse his brain of everything, did it stubbornly put all his problems in a “to do” order front and center?

  He’d been studying, planning, working. Busy with life and his own ambitions—just as his mom had taught him. She didn’t want to get in his way she’d said. Didn’t want him to lose momentum.

  Working was what kept his heart beating; it was what he woke up for each morning. What the fuck would he wake up to if he couldn’t find a goddamn investor before it was too late? His stomach rebelled against the thought. He loved being a producer. Having the responsibility for a whole production, beginning to end, was like a drug. The more he had, the more he needed.