by Unknown
Luke reached for my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine. “If there were a no-fraternization rule then they’d have to fire half the cast and most of the crew. Don’t worry about Maggie. We’re off the clock and it’s not her business, or anyone’s business, for that matter.”
He was so right. I wanted to relax but I couldn’t. I kept seeing her dart looks at us and she looked unhappier with each passing second. Little knots formed in my belly.
“I’m probably being paranoid but I swear she’s glaring at us. I-I’m just nervous because . . . well, you see, acting is what I’ve always wanted to do since I was a girl. When I moved to Southern California after high school, I studied acting at UCLA. When I left here that was our plan. Rex was going to have a singing career and I was going to act.”
His fingers stroked along mine. “So what happened?”
I shrugged, savoring the warmth of his touch. “I got a few part-time jobs while I was in college because the money Rex was making from his band gigs was really small.”
“And you didn’t have time for auditions.”
I nodded. “Exactly. Then he got his big break and . . . he didn’t want me to continue my studies. I didn’t mind sacrificing for a little while, because we agreed to come back to me later. But that never happened. I always loved acting, though. Now I know that hasn’t changed. It’s amazing to step into another person’s shoes, their whole skin really and become that person. It makes me happy. I’m sorry, this is getting pretty personal.”
“Don’t be sorry. I want to hear you talk, Charlie. Speaking of . . . is that your real name?”
“It’s Charlotte. But nobody’s called me that since they put it on my birth certificate.”
He chuckled. “Both are nice names. And going on a date is designed to get people to be more personal. Do you want to know why I love acting?”
I nodded eagerly. “Of course.”
His smile was blinding. “Because it has lines.”
I gaped at him. “What do you mean?”
“I was really shy as a kid. I already told you about the stage fright, and the . . . nightmares.”
The server returned and dropped off a basket of delicious rolls and plates of chilled butter. Luke passed me the basket of rolls. I took one and buttered it while he buttered his own.
“I just can’t believe you had stage fright and that you were shy. Thank you for sharing something so personal, for trusting me.” I stared into his blue-gray eyes for a long moment, before he smiled and then bit into his bread.
Then I glanced over and saw Maggie staring at us again. I hastily looked back from her to Luke, trying to brush away the mounting worry that her obvious staring was bringing up in me.
“The stage fright is a challenge, because it’s never really gone away. But I’ve learned to work with it as long as I have lines. Even my interviews are scripted. If I have lines, then it’s not really me who’s on the spot, it’s whoever I’m pretending to be.” He took another bite of bread and then a long sip of champagne. “I’d quit acting if I had to do a live interview, unscripted. I wouldn’t do that to myself for anything in the world.”
I held my breath, because he’d revealed something so personal and meaningful about himself and I didn’t want to break that moment.
Luke sipped his champagne and then set the flute down. “So, as long as I have lines, acting isn’t like that. It doesn’t put me on the spot. I know everyone on the cast and crew is just doing the same thing I am, and that they love it as much as I do. It feels friendly, and warm. And if I blank then there’s somebody there to feed me a line and nobody laughs.”
I squeezed his hand. To hear an actor as amazing as Luke admit to being nervous and afraid was stunning, and it made him even more human. He was so genuine and warm.
Our producer’s head whipped back around, and her staring had become too obvious to ignore or blow off. Not only was she staring, she was outright scowling at us, too. Weird!
“You know the public appearances I do with Adele?” He raised his brows. “They’re scripted. Someone else writes the lines, and it’s part of my contract. I’m bringing it up because we are up for an award. It’s a couple-of-the-year award from Soap Opera Now, and we’re contracted to attend the award ceremony together.”
“You didn’t have to tell me that,” I said, feeling shy.
“I wanted you to know because you’ll hear about it later. Going to the awards show with her is just acting. It’s good acting too, because I seem very confident when I have a script and I know people take that to mean I’m happy being with Adele, so we must be a couple.”
I sighed. “You seem to be pretty confident all the time.”
“I act pretty confident.” His smile was a little slanted. A lock of his thick hair fell across his forehead and I wanted to reach for it, to feel the crispness of his hair beneath my fingers as I put that hair back into place. “The only thing I don’t like about acting is the lack of privacy. I like to keep my life to myself. But that hasn’t been a problem because I never give a real interview.”
I swallowed the bubbly wine. “I’m a really private person, too. There wasn’t a lot of privacy when I was with Rex, and I feel like I’m finally getting that privacy back. Well, until I agreed to let a soap opera film in my house, that is.”
His gaze turned serious. “I’m really glad you did, Charlie.”
My belly fluttered. “Me, too.”
Yeah, I was pretty sure my crush had just escalated at that moment.
The server came back and brought our messy noodle dinners, which we demolished. I ate more pasta than one should in this dress and then I had two more pieces of bread dipped into olive oil laden with roasted tomato and garlic.
I kept catching the producer staring and frowning but every time she saw me watching her she looked away quickly. That should have killed my appetite entirely but I hadn’t had anything since the coffee and the half of a tartlet I’d had way earlier and the food was delicious.
So was the company, and Luke helped keep my mind off of Maggie and her strange staring by keeping the conversation moving along constantly.
“I have to tell you. Your knocking Adele into the ocean is probably going to be the highlight of the blooper reel.”
I groaned. “Please tell me you are kidding and that there is no blooper reel.”
“If there’s not, there really should be.”
I took a deep breath, wanting to open up about the role I’d been offered in Cherries Jubilee. He’d been so honest and open with me, even trusting me with his darkest secret about stage fright unless he had a script. But something made me hold back. Oh, wait. Then I realized. . .
“You ad libbed in your scene with me. That wasn’t scripted.”
“I know,” he said, his gaze holding mine.
“Weren’t you nervous?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t nervous at all. I was too focused you.”
A zing zapped my belly. “Oh, Luke . . .”
Yeah, my feelings had gone way beyond crushing now. Luke was so much more than a handsome, talented actor. He was honest and open and kind, and I was pretty sure I’d fallen for him. No, I was definitely sure I’d fallen for him.
The lights shone down dimly from the recessed lighting above and the candle on the table flickered. The flame cast part of his face into shadow, making him look very sexy and mysterious. I smiled, knowing words couldn’t express all I was feeling.
Finally, Luke set his fork diagonally across his empty plate. “Would you like dessert?”
“No. I’ll explode out of this dress if I have dessert.”
“How about we walk off some of our dinner with a stroll on the beach?”
“That sounds perfect,” I agreed. I was so not ready for the night to end yet.
He paid the check and we headed for the exit. He took my hand and more of that happiness and warmth zoomed into me. I was smiling broadly, eager to take that walk on the beach. Everything was perfe
ct . . . until we stepped out of the restaurant and the dozens of flashbulbs went off all around us.
Great. We’d been ambushed by the paparazzi.
Luke quickly turned me around. Little flashes of light hung all across my vision. I blinked a few times trying to see clearly. Luke went to the little alcove where the manager named Brooke stood behind a desk.
“Do you have a back door?” Luke asked.
Brooke nodded. “Yes, we do. Follow me.”
She quickly walked past the kitchen door and we followed. She opened the door, peeked out and then whispered, “Oh wow. They’re all over the valet parking lot.”
Luke groaned. I slumped against him, my stomach bubbling with worry. He squeezed my hand, but I was too panicked to take much notice. I stared past Brooke’s shoulder and saw dozens of reporters standing around the valet parking lot and near the corner of the restaurant. Obviously they were the last in the pack. There were dozens more gathered right at the front door. I never knew there was so much media in Blue Moon Bay.
Ironically, they were probably in town for the special filming of Just One Love.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
Brooke frowned. “This is most unprofessional. They’re completely blocking our customers!”
I swallowed hard. “I’m really sorry.”
She shook her head. “Not your fault at all. I won’t allow them to turn this place into a circus, either. Come on, we’ll go through the kitchen.”
“We still can’t leave,” Luke pointed out. “They’ve got the car surrounded.”
“They have the customer’s cars surrounded,” Brooke said, smugly. “They’re not in the employee parking lot, though.”
She took us into the kitchen. I could have almost sworn she was enjoying the drama of the whole thing. Probably hoping the attention would increase traffic for the restaurant. But Brooke was definitely on our side, because she grabbed long aprons and chef hats and gave them to us.
Breathing hard, I put the long white apron on and it covered me neatly from neck to ankle.
Luke looked me up and down, then whispered, “You make an apron look good,” and I laughed despite the awfulness of the situation.
Brooke spoke to an older man in a low tone and he nodded and came toward us. Brooke came, too, and she said, “This is my brother, Carl. He works here and he’ll get you home safely. We can have your car delivered to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Luke said.
We dashed out of the back door with Carl, the aprons flapping around our legs and the hats bobbing up and down on our heads. Luke was laughing softly but I was dying inside. I’d known dating someone famous would have this effect, and it had. Between the glaring producer and the paparazzi everything was falling apart and we’d only had one official date.
I couldn’t see Luke anymore, or this would be my life. I’d be marrying myself to the paparazzi all over again, which would be my worst nightmare come true.
Chapter Fifteen
On Saturday evening, I sat in my favorite chair by my living room window feeling depressed. The house had felt empty all day without the cast and crew filming like on the weekdays. I’d thought losing my privacy with Just One Love in the house would be something I had to bear for the entire month. Now that it was the weekend, I surprisingly missed the hustle and bustle of having the show here.
I also missed the camaraderie with everyone, especially Luke.
Claire swept through my front door around eight o’clock, and found me in the living room. “Okay, spill it, sis. What was so awful about your date last night that you don’t want to see Luke again? Did he slurp his soup? Don’t tell me he made you pay for dinner.”
I slumped back in my chair. “No, it was nothing like that.”
Claire grabbed a chair and pulled it closer to mine. “What then? When you called you sounded all horrified and stuff. Like you might jump off the bluffs at any moment.”
“I’m just sad.” I dropped my chin to my chest and sighed.
“Wow, that’s pretty dramatic.” Claire leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or just sit there sighing and acting like you’re about to die?”
“I had to ride home in the backseat of the head-cook’s car, while wearing an apron and chef’s hat last night. And the guy from the restaurant, Carl, had forgotten to take a packet of fish he’d bought earlier out of the car. I had to take two showers to get the smell of salmon off my skin.”
Claire’s mouth sagged open. “Whoa. Wait, did Luke walk out on you and leave you without a ride? I thought you guys took your car.”
“We did. It’s still there.”
She lifted a brow. “I don’t get it. Hold that thought, though, and let me grab us some coffee. You look like you could use it.”
“I really could,” I admitted, feeling numb. I knew I couldn’t date Luke anymore, but the thought of not seeing that happy smile anymore depressed me. “I already made a pot of dark roast. I just haven’t poured it yet.”
“Good, because I make lousy coffee. I’ll be right back and don’t you dare clam up on me.”
She whirled out of the room and came back with two cups of coffee and a package of cookies she’d found somewhere. I couldn’t recall having bought them, but I didn’t even care if they were stale. I’d finally found a man I cared about and my love life was still the pits.
She handed me a cup and I took it gratefully. I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my chilled fingers and then took a long gulp of the strong brew.
“Now where were we? Oh yeah—forgotten fish and chef’s hat. Please, explain. I want to be sympathetic, but the image is kind of hilarious.”
“The paparazzi basically ambushed us and we had to disguise ourselves in aprons and chef’s hats to get out unnoticed and then the cook drove us home.”
“In a car with smelly fish?” Claire took a cookie and nibbled at it. “That’s not the best way to end any evening, but what’s so horrible about all of that?”
“On the way home, I told Luke we couldn’t see each other again. When Carl stopped in my driveway, I jumped out of the car and shut the door before Luke could say anything more.”
“And ran right into the house like a lunatic, I bet.”
I nodded and picked up a cookie. “That, too.”
“Wow.”
“That’s why I’m sad.” I bit into the cookie’s soft and chewy edge, feeling more miserable with each moment. My phone rang. I glanced down at the screen and sighed.
“Is that Luke?”
I considered lying but Claire would likely grab the phone and check for herself if I did. “Yes, it’s Luke. And no, I’m not answering it.”
“Why not? I mean you should at least give the guy a good explanation like you did for me. Wait, you didn’t. Why can’t you go back out with him again? I’m so lost.”
I stared at her over the rim of my cup as the phone stopped ringing. “Um, hello? Paparazzi? Rotting fish? Ring any bells? I need my privacy, you know that.”
“Try that lame reason on someone else. Next.” Claire thrust her chin out, giving me a meaningful look.
I set my cup down, laced my fingers together and told her what Adele had said about me only dating Luke to get more lines for my part.
Claire blew out a breath. “Ouch. But, really, do you care what some diva thinks? She’s probably just jealous that you’re getting more attention than she is. Lame.”
A beep came from my phone. A text. Luke.
Claire said, “Is that really all you’ve got?”
I shook my head. “He’s all wrong for me.”
“Why? Because he isn’t a cheating jerk like Rex? Is someone like that more your type?”
I glared at her. “That was below the belt.”
“Maybe so, but it’s a valid question. You say Luke’s all wrong for you but it sure sounds like you’re making up a million ridiculous reasons why you guys won’t wor
k out when he sounds really nice. Plus, you get that goofy look on your face every time you talk about him, which means you really like him. I haven’t heard one decent reason why he’s wrong for you.”
“He’s famous.”
“So are you, my dear. Does that make me famous by association, by the way? It should, yet I’m pretty sure no paper every mentioned me. So unfair.”
I set the cup down. “You wouldn’t care what people say about you, would you?”
Claire shook her head. “Not so much.”
My phone rang again.
“Just answer it! Or I will . . .”
I grabbed the phone then got up and started pacing. “I can’t. Last night was awful. I don’t want to spend my whole life dodging the paparazzi.”
“Isn’t that what you do now Ms. Big Hat? Hello, Ms. Sunglasses-in-a-Restaurant! Wouldn’t it be more fun doing that with a great guy?”
Claire’s words hit me to the core. “I don’t know.”
She got up and walked over to where I stood near the windows. The ocean was dark and heaving, like my thoughts, and even through the panes of glass I could hear it sighing and calling. “You know I always looked up to you, Charlie. You were always so brave. Right now, though, you’re being a total wimp.”
My phone beeped. Then beeped again. Luke texting me again. If he didn’t stop soon he was going to lose his thumbs.
“I’m being a wimp? How about you? You were too chicken to go on a date with that guy.”
“Oh, I went.”
I turned my head to look at her. “Really? You did? Why didn’t you say something?”
“I was going to, right after you were finished. Besides . . .” She paused and gave the pretty dress she wore a tug. “I figured you’d ask why I was so dressed up.”
I had noticed the dress. I’d also noticed the lipstick and heels. I’d just been so caught up in my own misery to say anything. “You look great. It must have been one heck of a date.”
My phone rang. Luke was persistent. I had to give him that. I spoke loudly, trying to drown out the ringing, “So how was your date?”
Claire spoke even more loudly, of course. “Well, it was awful at first. I almost fried my hair to a crisp because I was waffling between curly or straight hair. Then I realized that the mascara I grabbed had not only dried up but it probably harbored a year’s worth of bacteria. And that was before my date even showed up.”