To Be or Not To Be: The Actors

by Cathrine Goldstein

  For one thing, if she thought there would ever be the real possibility of a man in her life, being an egg donor…damn…and for another, she had no time or interest in a relationship. Relationships cloud your judgment and make you lose yourself and your dreams, just as it did for her dad, and there was no way she would let that happen. But despite all that… “Your eyes,” she muttered, momentarily transfixed. “They really are incredible.”

  “Thanks.”

  He didn’t move. Despite everything, Jenna felt so close to Trevor right now, she longed to stand there forever, safe, inside this bubble he created by his masculine, protective aura. She bit her bottom lip.

  “Yours, too.” He took a step closer, but Jenna stayed still. “Your eye color, I’ve never seen it before. Hazel, I guess, but they’re so light.” Trevor took another step and lifted his hand to touch her.

  Jenna froze. Oh, hell no. She would not be seduced by Trevor Hughes. She cleared her throat and backed away. “Guess our kids would have some pretty freaky eye color then, huh?”

  Trevor dropped his hand and nodded slightly. He knew what she was doing. This guy had been around the block so many times, he had worn out the pavement. He knew women and this was a classic female move. Nothing scares off a guy like talking about kids before you’ve even been on a date. If he only knew the truth—talking about kids probably terrified her even more than it did him.

  Trevor stood up straighter. He was taking control again and in some strange way, she wanted him to. He put down his empty paper cup. “Can we sit on the couch, maybe?”

  “We can but it’s a futon.” She pointed over her shoulder at the pile of dirty clothes she had stacked on her bed. “It’s impossible to close.”

  “Any reason?”

  “It’s too heavy.”

  “Maybe I can give it a try?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Trevor stood over the futon as Jenna made her way to the kitchen area. She stuck her coffee in the microwave and watched it spin around and around. She looked at Trevor. “I warned you, it’s too heavy.”

  “It’s not that, but it won’t close with all this stuff on top.” Trevor turned back to her.

  “Oh, right.” Jenna’s cheeks heated. In a flash she was there, knocking the dirty clothes and blankets off the bed and onto the floor. She left the pink flannel sheets.

  “You like pink, huh?” Trevor’s eyes made their way to hers.

  “I guess. But they’re the only pink thing here.”

  Trevor’s gaze dropped down to her t-shirt.

  “Oh.” Damn, he could probably see her bra through the flimsy t-shirt material. Jenna draped her arm across her shirt, her blush threatening to overtake her entire body.

  To his credit, Trevor only smiled at her. He turned back to the futon and closed it with one hand.

  “Oh.” Jenna was surprised by his strength. She had imagined all those years in a cushy job made him weak. She almost said something to that extent but clamped her mouth shut just in time. “Let me grab our coffees and scripts.” Jenna took her coffee out of the microwave and pulled a sugar dish from her cabinet.

  Trevor was suddenly there, sending a vibration through her. “Did they forget your sugar? I double-checked with them.”

  “Un-uh. I like six sugars.”

  “You said four.”

  Jenna shrugged. “I wanted to make a good impression.”

  Trevor laughed and fixed his smile on Jenna.

  It made her squirm. She needed to do something. “Hungry?” She tossed her head toward her fridge.

  “What do you have?”

  “Um…” Jenna stood on her tip-toes to look into her cabinet. “Ramen Noodles and peanut butter.”

  “That’s all the food you have in your house?”

  “Well, I only spend money on food to cook for my acting coach. We have a deal; I don’t pay for classes and in return I cook for him whenever I can.” She pointed to the fridge. “I have cream for coffee. Oh, and I have two kinds of peanut butter. Crunchy too.” Jenna grabbed the jars from the cabinet and held them up victoriously. “Oh wait, wait.” She stretched up again, and this time her t-shirt pulled up from her sweats. “Seaweed.”

  Jenna turned just in time to catch Trevor staring at her lower back. She shook the package in her hand.

  “What?” Trevor snapped out of his daze.

  “Dried seaweed. Want some?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing.” Jenna tore open the bag and crunched on the seaweed.

  “Aren’t you ever hungry for more? Like, I don’t know, a steak?”

  “Sure.” She kept crunching on her seaweed. “But being hungry is good. It keeps you real. Even if I make it big someday.” She bounced on her toes as she spoke. “I’ll still stay as connected to grunge as I can—shopping in my cheap vintage stores; walking down hot dirty streets in late August, choking on the overpowering smell of urine; listening to start-up bands in dive clubs while drinking watered down whiskey; eating lousy but free hors d’oeuvres on opening nights of new gallery shows…” Her eyes were closed as she rattled off her reasons for loving New York, which were almost identical to most people’s reasons for hating New York.

  Trevor smiled as she shoved in one last piece then wiped her hands on her sweats.

  “Okay. Well then, come on. Let’s go see what Willy has to say.”

  “Willy?”

  Trevor bristled at the mention of another man’s name, and Jenna tilted her head, trying to understand. “Willy? William? Shakespeare?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Trevor took another big slug of coffee and together they made their way to the couch.

  ****

  What the hell? That was all the food she had in her house? Watching Jenna in her kitchen—if you could call that tiny galley area a kitchen—was incredibly endearing, although Trevor repeatedly fought his impulse to pull out his cell, call his grocery service, and have real food delivered. When she reached up for the bag of seaweed exposing her beautifully toned lower back with two little dimples, placed just so…damn. He fought his every instinct to cross to her and kiss the small of her back, over and over again. He adored those dimples on a woman’s lower back—Dimples of Venus—and they were incredibly rare.

  Sitting on the futon with her hair draped over one shoulder, legs curled beneath her, script in one hand, coffee in the other, Trevor couldn’t remember a time he had ever seen a more beautiful woman. She blew on the steaming cup of coffee, rolling her neck, and her nose ring sparkled. Trevor was transfixed. He dropped his head, shaking it. Damn it. No. He had no business being attracted to her. His feelings were an occupational hazard. Period. He was supposed to have them; they were only natural. Hamlet needed to fall in love with Ophelia, and sometimes, those feelings transferred offstage and into real life.

  Still balancing her coffee, Jenna moved to stretch her back and Trevor felt an unexpected urge. Quickly he sat down next to her and opened his script. Great. The nunnery scene. This wouldn’t help. Something on the wall caught his attention—a poster with a picture of a rainbow, and one single word: “Dream.” He took a moment to process this. Aside from a few photos, this was the only piece of artwork hanging in Jenna’s entire apartment.

  “Nice poster.”

  Jenna looked at her wall. “Oh, thanks.” She blushed. “My dad gave me that.”

  “He’s a dreamer?” Trevor pushed more than he should, thrilled to discover anything about her.

  “He was.”

  “Oh.” Crap. “Uh, Jenna, I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes glassed over and Trevor shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He wasn’t equipped to fix this. He wracked his brain, thinking of any advice he had heard. “Sometimes talking helps. Do you want to talk a—?”

  Jenna shook her head, and the conversation was over. His jaw clenched. He was angry with himself for pressing her but he also felt like he missed a real opportunity to know Jenna better. How could an actor of her ca
liber be so disconnected in real life? He glanced at the poster again. Something else was attached to it…Trevor stood and walked over for a closer look. A tiny sticker read: “Save the Turtles.”

  “You have to be kidding me.”

  “What?” Jenna’s eyes followed him.

  “This ‘Save the Turtles’ sticker. Why do you have it?”

  He ran his finger across the sticker then turned to see Jenna’s face redden and her eyes narrow. She got up from the couch and walked to him.

  “Really?” Jenna crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her nostrils flared as she spoke. “You really want to know?”

  “Yes.” Trevor nodded.

  “Well, this was a cause my dad cared about—greatly.”

  “Okay…”

  “And we took a trip once. Just us. The two of us. When we first found out he was sick. We couldn’t afford it and I don’t know how he did it but we did. We flew down to Florida to watch the loggerhead sea turtles hatch. And while we stood there, witnessing life begin, my father told me about his love for these little creatures and how they were nearly endangered and how he wished he could have done something for them.”

  A tear slipped down Jenna’s cheek, and Trevor desperately wanted to wipe it away. Instead, he backed up, giving her space.

  She lifted the corner of her t-shirt, dabbing at her eye. “It was all a metaphor, of course. That wasn’t lost on me. I knew it wasn’t just the turtles, I knew he wished he could have done more with his life. So I stood near a man with a death sentence, witnessing new life and it changed me. I swore then and there I would do something for those stupid little turtles and honor his dying wish.”

  “So you support the cause?”

  Jenna glared at him, fury dancing in her eyes. “I did more than hang a dumb little sign, if that’s what you’re referring to.” She turned away, anger shaking her tiny body.

  Trevor moved toward her, wanting to reach for her, wanting to fix this. “I don’t understand why you’re mad at me.”

  “Really? Really, Trevor?”

  “Jenna, you’ve been angry at me since the day you met me. Just tell me.”

  “When my father passed my mom was a wreck, as, I guess, she should have been. So it was my job to take care of the finances.” Jenna shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult; he left just a tiny bit of money, barely enough to pay for his small funeral with just a little left over.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Anywayyyyy…” Jenna exaggerated her words, obviously wanting to regain control of the conversation. “I took that little bit of money he left and instead of investing back into the family business or tucking it away for my sister’s education, I thought of him and what I could do to make a difference in his name and to make his memory live on. So I donated it to the Sea Turtle Fund.”

  “That was incredibly—”

  “Stupid?” Jenna raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh yes, I know. My mother has informed me of this countless times.”

  “I was going to say generous.”

  “Well, stupid would have been right because in doing that I put my faith in someone who let me down.” Jenna was close to him now, her tiny body moving up and down in time with her seething breath. “I trusted you. You, you asshole.”

  Trevor started at her word as Jenna turned her back and walked away.

  “Jenna, what are you talking about?” If any other woman had called him an asshole, Trevor would have left. For sure. But Jenna’s pain and anger, misdirected as it was, kept him there.

  She stood at the window. “You were supposed to believe in this cause too.”

  “Jenna, I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what I have to do with any of this.”

  “I donated the money right at the time when the Sea Turtle Fund said they were getting a huge endorsement from a celebrity who was about to do a series of public service announcements for them. And when he did, they would be able to do significant research, not just on the turtles, but on all types of sea life. And that would have made my small donation and my dad’s desire, have some…purpose.”

  “Ohhhh…” Trevor walked toward her. “The PSAs. I’m sorry Jenna. I never knew what happened to those. One day I got a call from my agent telling me they were canceled. They never gave a reason why. I assumed they went with someone more high profile. Sometimes my character is such a bad guy, causes are afraid to side with me. Or sometimes they just cancel. I wasn’t happy they were canceled either. I had my own reasons for doing them.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Jenna’s eyes softened. For the first time ever, he saw hope in them. She bowed her head.

  “I—I had no idea. I thought you just didn’t care.” Her words were quiet.

  “No.” Tentatively, he took a step closer. “The truth is I, uh…” He dropped his head and latched his hand to the back of his neck. “I care a lot more than anyone realizes.” He lifted his head, facing Jenna.

  She glanced up at him. “I’m so sorry. I called you an asshole. I don’t usually do that.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve been called worse.” Trevor smiled, lost in her gorgeous eyes, wishing he could alleviate even some of the angst she was feeling. He would gladly stand there, letting her curse and scream if that’s what it took. He understood the pain of loss. He moved closer, and she looked up at him. She didn’t step away.

  “I understand if you want to leave.” Her voice was weak.

  “I don’t want to leave.”

  Trevor fixed his gaze on Jenna and she gave him a small sad smile. She seemed different now—still Jenna, but at least one layer of protection had been stripped away.

  “Jenna…” He very nearly whispered, making his voice soft and calming. “I want to show you something.”

  “Yes?”

  There was need in her, no doubt. Every cell in his body wanted so badly to fill that space, that emptiness, in her…and he wished to God she could fill that void in him. Without a word, Trevor reached up behind his head, and with one hand, yanked off his t-shirt. She gasped, and he smiled.

  It was a natural effortless action for him—one he repeated time after time on the soap—but this time it meant more. This time he was invested. Jenna’s eyes widened, focusing on his chest—not on his perfectly toned abdomen or the width of his upper body, but on what he wanted her to see: the sea turtle, tattooed just over his heart.

  “How? Why?” Jenna stepped forward.

  “I’ve got a nephew. He’s five but he’s loved turtles, forever. Obsessed with them.” Trevor smiled, thinking of Toby. “I got the tattoo a couple of years ago, when Toby and I were…” He stalled for a moment, careful with his words. “Doing some research on turtles, and I learned about their cause.”

  Jenna looked up at him, soaking in his every word.

  “Toby thinks it’s great. Makes him smile every time I take him to the beach.” He shrugged. “And I figured I spend so much time with my shirt off anyway, it might as well do some good.”

  Jenna giggled. The sound warmed Trevor’s heart. He shifted, and her body moved with his.

  “No one knows about the tattoo because the soap covers it. It doesn’t fit Caspian’s bad boy image but I was going to do the PSAs shirtless, making fun of myself.”

  Jenna smiled again.

  “The turtle fund had contacted me to do the PSAs because of my connection to them. I honestly don’t know why they were canceled. I’m sorry if I let you down.” The ache in his gut told Trevor he really was sorry he had disappointed her. “Not that it matches what the PSAs would have brought in, but I make a sizable donation to the turtles every year. I understand your father’s affinity toward them, Jen.”

  Her eyes danced across his as she raised her hand to his chest, placing her warm fingers on the tattoo.

  Trevor inhaled sharply.

  “Sorry.” Jenna pulled her hand away and looked up at him, her eyes wide with wonder. “I never should have—you and Maggie…ugh.” Jenna put her head in he
r hands. “That was so tacky of me. I’m sorry.”

  Trevor wasn’t sorry. He took her hand and placed it back on his chest. She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

  “Don’t pull away. Please.”

  Her shoulders moved in time with her hurried breath.

  Good God, what was he doing? Whatever it was, her hand was so warm, and her touch so gentle…and it felt so…freaking…good.

  She swallowed, hard. “I’m not getting between you and Maggie. And I’m not interested in being some part-time tramp, sneaking—”

  “Shh…” He shook his head, closing his eyes. He flattened Jenna’s palm and held it against his heart, feeling…complete. “Of course not, Jenna.”

  Slowly, her fingers moving beneath his grasp, she traced the outline of the turtle. His breath quickened and his nipples hardened. He opened his eyes and she glanced up at him, her hurried breathing sounding like a growl…passion flickering in her eyes. He grabbed both of her hands and drew them to him. She closed her eyes, and Trevor felt the power was all his…

  But he needed to be careful of how he used it.

  He let go of her hands just to reach out and stroke her soft, beautiful cheek, and in that instant he knew his feelings were not an occupational hazard and this was not some casual theatre romance.

  ****

  Jenna never wanted to move. Ever. The feeling of Trevor’s hand on her face was so intimate and comforting…and now, damn it, her first line of defense was down. That seed of resentment she had toward him was obliterated, and now she wasn’t sure she could trust herself. Correction, she knew she couldn’t trust herself.

  Trevor made her feel warm and safe and so incredibly excited—she desperately wanted him to overpower her and protect her all at once. Her stomach clenched as her breathing grew shallower. She allowed herself a moment, just a moment, and she nuzzled against his hand. He cupped her cheek. She loved the feel of his hand on her; she wanted to step forward, closer to him, burying herself in his chest. She wanted to feel his strong hands wrap around her waist. She wanted to feel his kiss.

  But she couldn’t. No way. Thank goodness Maggie was in the picture; she was the insurance Jenna needed. Jenna would never do anything with Trevor as long as he was with Maggie—and frankly, she’d never respect him if he did. But standing before her without his shirt…how much willpower could she be expected to have? As her body warmed with his touch, her mind wandered. If Maggie were gone…and if his kiss led to more…and if they jumped into a relationship…no, no, no. This was the reason the psychologist recommended it was best to stay single until the process was over. There were no “ifs” here—there were only cold, hard facts.