by Katie McCoy
“We’re needed on set,” Lulu told Jax.
He nodded.
“Thanks for your help,” he told me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “See you later?”
I nodded, still feeling a little stunned by everything that had happened.
He had been acting as Darcy just then, but it had felt real—just as real as what was happening in private between us.
So what was fact and what was fiction?
I liked Jax, and I wanted to be open and honest with him, but that was impossible. My boundaries were getting blurred, and I didn’t know how to change that. Because this is what I had agreed to—non-disclosure contracts and all.
And the worst part was, I wanted more.
More sweet words, more kisses, more believing Jax was really the man for me. It was all pretend, but it felt so good, I didn’t care.
What did that make me: an actress . . .
Or a liar?
12
Jax
I cursed the person who had designed men’s trousers in Austen’s time, because they were uncomfortable as fuck. Especially when you were a man who was having constant sexual fantasies about the girl that everyone thought you were dating, when in actuality, you could barely even touch her.
It had been a week since my hot encounter with Penny at the pub, and I had been on edge ever since. I couldn’t stop thinking about it—how sexy she had been, how wild and passionate. The taste of tequila on her lips and the slide of her tongue against mine. It had taken everything in my power not to drag her off to a storage closet to have my wicked way with her after she pulled that stunt with the pool table and her dress with a thousand buttons. The feel of her body against mine had driven me wild and it had only been a taste. I wanted more.
So much more.
But Penny seemed insistent on maintaining those fucking boundaries. I didn’t understand it—obviously she wanted me—so why wouldn’t she just embrace that and let things develop naturally?
And sexually.
Instead, she kept things professional. On set, in front of others, she played the part of the attentive, doting girlfriend. She was affectionate when it was warranted, endlessly supportive, and kind to everyone. Most of that, I knew, wasn’t an act. But when we were alone, she kept her distance, keeping that adjoining door between our rooms closed.
What I wouldn’t do to join her in her four-poster bed at night. What I would do to her in that bed . . .
My mind raced with a multitude of naughty fantasies, all of them hotter than the next.
I felt my phone buzz in my breast pocket, and since we were between takes, I dug it out.
“Stella,” I greeted my agent, wanting to be distracted from my dirty, dirty thoughts. “Tell me something good.”
“You and Penny are a hit,” she told me, sounding unusually happy. “We’ve planted a few stories about the two of you—about your childhood friendship turned romance—and people are eating it up. They want more.”
“Great.” I was glad that at least all this sexual frustration wouldn’t be for naught. “What’s the next step?”
“We still need to convince people that this is moving towards something serious,” Stella said. “That you’re actually interested in settling down with Penny.”
The thing was, the reality of settling down with Penny didn’t sound so crazy to me. I liked her—I liked her a lot. She was smart, she was sexy, but most importantly she was stable. We were friends at our core, and I sincerely believed that friendship was a much more solid basis for a relationship and marriage than love or lust was. Not that Penny seemed to agree with me.
“Tell us what to do and we’ll do it,” I told Stella.
“How does Penny feel about all of this?” Stella wanted to know.
“I think she’s fine.” I thought for a moment. “She’s still adjusting, but she’s a trooper.”
“We need her to be comfortable with everything,” Stella told me. “We can’t suspect that she’s acting or faking it. So she needs to feel relaxed. Maybe the two of you should spend some time alone, and get comfortable together.”
That was the best idea I’d heard in a long time. Already my brain was spinning with all the things we could do alone together, and only half of them were sexual. I knew that Penny was giving up a lot to help me out with this tabloid mess, so I was willing to do whatever was necessary to make her happy.
“Don’t worry,” I told Stella. “I have some ideas . . .”
That afternoon, I steered Penny across a grassy hill with my hands over her eyes. “What is this all about?” Penny asked. “Seriously, Jax, I can walk myself . . . wherever we’re going.”
“I told you that you’ll see when we get there,” I teased, helping guide her forward.
“Why don’t I trust you?” she asked dryly.
“I don’t know,” I responded. “Maybe you have some trust issues that you need to examine, because everyone knows I am incredibly trustworthy.”
“Mmhmm,” she responded, not sounding like she believed me at all.
I bit back a laugh. I couldn’t help but be amused by how someone like her—who seemed to hold order and rules and guidelines in such high esteem—had ended up here in the first place. Not that I wasn’t grateful that she had thrown caution to the wind, I just wished she was willing to do it a little more often.
Finally we reached our intended destination, and I lowered my hands from her eyes.
“Tah-dah,” I said with a flourish.
Her mouth dropped open and I grinned, relieved at her positive reaction.
I had found a secluded spot along the stream, where—with the help of two generously compensated PAs—I had set up a romantic picnic for Penny and myself. There were pillows and a picnic blanket and a whole tea set, with an amazing spread of scones and tea and little sandwiches and tea cakes and even some champagne. It was pretty magical, and I was glad the prop department had come through.
And Penny seemed to agree.
“You did this for me?” she asked, her voice a little breathless.
I found that I liked her a little breathless. Of course, I’d really like her breathless and naked and beneath me, but I would take what I could get. For now.
“Do you like it?” I asked, helping her sit down on the blanket.
“I love it,” she said, tucking her sundress beneath her legs. I loved her little flowy sundresses. And I especially loved the sexy shoes she always seemed to be wearing—especially those sparkly blue ones that she had worn at the pub. I had lots of fantasies that involved her wearing them—and only them.
I sat next to her and poured some champagne.
“To Jane Austen,” I said, toasting. “For making all of this possible.”
Penny laughed, but clinked her glass against mine. “This is wonderful,” she said with a sigh, picking up a scone.
“I thought it would be nice to get away from the set for a little bit,” I told her. “I feel like we haven’t gotten much chance to be alone.”
Her cheeks went red, and I knew that she was thinking about the last time we had been “alone.” But even though I couldn’t stop thinking about that either, I knew that rushing her wasn’t going to do much good for either of us. Besides, I genuinely did just want to spend time with her.
“Are you having a good time here?” I asked, hoping that the answer was yes. “I hope it’s not too boring.”
Her eyes widened. “Boring? Of course not! How could spending time on a movie set be boring?”
I laughed. “Well, there is a lot of sitting around and waiting in between scenes.”
Penny waved her hand. “I find the whole thing fascinating,” she said. “And I have plenty to do during down time.”
“Oh yeah?” I shifted, stretching out next to her and propping myself up on one elbow. “What kind of things are you doing during down time?”
I hadn’t really meant for it to sound suggestive, but I wasn’t unhappy that it did. Especially when a blush rose o
n Penny’s cheeks.
“I’m just working on something for a friend,” she said, and then told me about everything that was happening with Emmy and the fashion line. “I’m calculating all her sales projections,” she explained, her face lit up with excitement. “And different strategies based on different levels of expenditure and growth.”
Damn, she was sexy when she talked math.
“That sounds great,” I said, glad that she had found something to do that she enjoyed. “You should start consulting for more businesses,” I suggested. “Not as an employee, like you were before, but as your own company.”
She looked surprised, as if she hadn’t considered it. “I don’t know,” she said. “This is just a favor for Emmy, I don’t know if anyone would pay me.”
“Why not?” I challenged her. “You have the experience, don’t you? And this way, you wouldn’t be stuck working for one set of assholes again.”
“No,” Penny grinned, “I could work for a whole range of them.”
I laughed. “You know what I mean. It’s one of the things I love about acting—I’m always working on new projects and meeting more people. You get to see so much more of the world.”
Penny nibbled on a sandwich thoughtfully, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. “Maybe. I would have to put together a real plan, look at revenue streams and how scalable the model would be . . .”
I chuckled.
“What?” She looked self-conscious. “Sorry, I know I can ramble about this stuff.”
“No, it’s great!” I exclaimed quickly. “I’m amazed at how your brain works.”
“My brain?” she asked, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“How good you are with numbers,” I clarified. “And plans, and strategy. Because I’m absolutely rubbish with them.”
She shrugged modestly. “They just make sense to me. Not like acting,” she teased.
“Well, of course,” I said. “Acting makes no sense to anyone.”
“What made you try it?” she asked, looking curious. “I mean, back when we were kids, you hated attention. And now . . . well, you love it. Don’t try to deny it,” she added with a grin. “I’ve seen you in front of the camera. You light up, like things go to a whole new level.”
I looked away, suddenly feeling on display. It was one thing to play a character, but Penny had clearly been watching me.
“Come on,” Penny encouraged me. “I want to know.”
I deliberated answering. “Ever heard of hiding in plain sight?” I asked. “That’s how it started. I got cast in a school play, and it was like something clicked. When I was saying the lines, up on stage, I wasn’t me anymore. I didn’t feel awkward or out of place. And it turned out, I was good. Really good. I had never been much good at anything before—”
“Hey!” Penny protested. “That’s not true.”
“OK,” I agreed. “Besides whistling and air hockey, then.” She laughed, and I relaxed enough to continue. “I guess I just felt the most comfortable pretending to be someone else. But over time, I got more confident. People liked what I was doing, and it felt good to have that, you know? Even with everything being so crappy at home.”
“Your parents must be proud,” she said, nibbling on a strawberry.
I snorted. “Yeah, not so much. You know how they are, all about being respectable and proper. I had to put myself through drama school working and on scholarships. Even when I got my first big roles and was nominated for the Oscar, it wasn’t enough for them. I invited them to come to the ceremony, but they said they had other plans.”
I looked down, remembering the sting of rejection.
“Are you kidding me?” Penny sounded outraged. “That’s terrible.”
I shrugged. “It’s OK. I took Rihanna instead.”
Still, Penny was scowling. “That’s no excuse. I mean, look at everything you’ve achieved! They’re fools if they don’t support you. Even if they’re not proud of you, I am. I think it’s amazing, what you’re doing. And your Darcy is going to blow everyone away.”
Her eyes were blazing fiercely, and she looked about ready to go slap some sense into my stuck-up parents.
I paused. I didn’t think anyone had ever wanted to defend me like that. Except my agents, of course, but they were paid to care about me.
Nobody was paying Penny, and she didn’t bullshit. If she was saying that, she really meant it.
I tried to ignore the warm feeling in my chest. “Here, try this,” I said, and lifted a piece of cake towards her lips instead.
She let me feed it to her and closed her eyes when she took a bite.
Damn.
My career was suddenly the last thing on my mind. She looked hot.
Illegally tempting.
“That’s really good.” She finally opened her eyes, a tiny bit of cream on the corner of her lips.
“You have a little something.” I couldn’t stop myself from reaching over and slowly teasing it away from her mouth. I licked my finger. “Mmm,” I said, keeping my eyes on her.
Penny went beet red.
So, she felt the attraction between us too. So why was she holding back?
I was just about to try feeding her some of those chocolate-covered strawberries when I heard a slight rustling noise in the trees just beyond our little picnic spot.
“Did you hear that?” Penny asked, peering in that direction.
Then she let out a little gasp. Immediately, I saw what she had spotted.
Paparazzi.
A photographer was stationed in the bushes, the light reflecting off of his camera lens. What the fuck? I turned to apologize to Penny, but stopped when I saw the expression on her face. She didn’t look surprised, just disappointed.
Did she think this whole thing had been a setup to get pictures?
“I didn’t know they would be here,” I protested. “But . . . Stella might have called them.” I sighed, remembering that I ran this whole picnic idea past her.
Penny shrugged, the gesture clearly meant to be casual, but I could see the hurt in it.
“It’s part of the deal, isn’t it?” she said. “It’s all pretend. Better that we don’t forget that.”
Dammit. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I told her, feeling off balance. We’d been sharing something real, but now it was all going wrong. “Let me make it up to you.”
She gave me a suspicious look. “Make it up to me, how?”
My mind raced to find a solution. “Dinner,” I suggested. “Just us, no crew, no cast, no cameras. Like old times.”
It seemed like ages before she responded, but when she did, it was with a small smile.
“That sounds nice,” she said. “I’d like that.”
And I’d make damn well sure she did.
13
Penny
I spent the rest of the day staying far away from Jax, trying to figure everything out in my mind. The picnic had been crazy romantic, and I found my resolve crumbling, especially after discovering more about Jax and his life over the past few years. When he had gently removed the cream from my lips and licked it off his own fingers, I almost forgot myself and tackled him into the grass right there.
So maybe it was a good thing that I had seen the photographer when I did. It was the perfect reminder at the perfect time. Even though Jax had looked genuinely surprised that they were there, it was still proof that all of this was an act. A performance. We were a couple in name only.
Which is why I couldn’t figure out why Jax was pushing this whole “make-up” dinner tonight. Did he think that it would end like the night in the pub had? Was he just trying to get into my pants?
Did I care?
Yes. Of course I cared. I reminded myself of my boundaries. I needed to be careful: there was being spontaneous and fun, and then there was being just plain reckless.
Three guesses what I was doing here.
There was a knock a
t the adjoining door between our rooms. I opened it to find Jax in a tight—very tight—black T-shirt and well-fitted jeans. I was dressed similarly in black jeans and a dark blue sweater. After the incident with the dress in the pub, I had made a point to wear something that I couldn’t unbutton. Who knew if there was going to be tequila where we were headed that night?
“Ready?” Jax asked me, giving me a slow look from head to toe.
Oh boy. It was a good thing I was button-free, because they would have popped open under that smoldering gaze.
“Where are we going?” I wanted to know, letting him lead me out of the hotel room.
“It’s a surprise,” he said with a wink.
“Another one?” I teased. “Aren’t you just full of them lately?”
“You know me.” He held the elevator for me. “I love keeping people on their toes.”
But as we reached the lobby it was clear that I wasn’t the only one who was going to need to be on their toes tonight. Outside the hotel, through the huge glass windows at the front of the building, I could see a crowd of people had gathered. The minute we stepped out of the elevator, everything seemed to happen at once.
The crowd went nuts. There were screaming fans, reporters calling out, and photographers with their flashes going off at a rapid speed. I felt nearly blinded and deafened by the whole thing.
In an instant, Jax was in front of me, shielding me with his body.
“What’s going on?” I asked, overwhelmed.
“Someone must have tipped off the press,” he said. “It always happens at some point during production.” Quickly, he hustled me away from the lobby, towards the back of the hotel. “Come on,” he told me. “I’ve got an idea.”
His idea was sneaking out through the laundry room, snaking around the base of the hotel, and eventually getting to one of the nearby parking lots where a PA was waiting with an inconspicuous van.