Limelight and Longing (Movie Star Romance Book 1)

by Jay Shaw

  He pulled his arm from beneath her head, but she didn’t wake. Her hair was a dark red inferno fanned across the white pillow. He flexed his fingers, hissed as feeling returned, and reached his arms above his head. Relished the stretch as it engulfed him from fingertips to where his toes curled in the sheet.

  The light was bright through the huge window, the curtains open from the day before. Tufts of fluffy-white cloud bobbed across cornflower-blue sky, destination unknown - a new day with new possibilities.

  “Penny for them?” Jenna murmured and rolled over to rest her cheek against his chest. Her voice husky with lingering sleep.

  “Wondering how I’m going to get my comforter back, Blanket Hog.” She laughed and shifted her thigh to fall between his, nudging behind his balls. “And dreading the inevitable awkward conversation.”

  He felt her stiffen against his side, tense and wary, and dropped his arm over her back. He didn’t want her to leave, ever. And if she’d give him a chance, he’d tell her that.

  “Sorry about the blankets, it’s been a while since I shared a bed.” Her confession eased something in him he didn’t know was clenched tight.

  He laughed as she tugged both sheet and comforter over his nakedness; right up under his chin, leaving his toes exposed to the dreaded Toe-nibblers who lived under beds.

  “Better?”

  “Better.”

  “So, awkward conversations aren’t a favorite for me.”

  “Hence the word awkward.” He looked into eyes so green and close, and reached up to tug her lip free from her teeth with a gentle finger. “What do we do now?”

  “Room service and shower sex.” Jenna leaned in to steal a kiss before rolling off him to lie on her back.

  “Jenna.”

  She sighed and puffed the comforter over her middle. “I know, back to reality.”

  “Before, or after, the shower sex?”

  “After.” He watched as she twirled her hair up into a loose bun at the back of her head. “Definitely after.”

  Jacob growled; lunging to pull her down on top of him amid Jenna’s peals of laughter, as he tousled her hair loose to fall over creamy shoulders – just as he had the night before. “Works for me.”

  His kiss muffled her reply, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the way she moved her body against his, he doubted either of them would make it to the shower, or anywhere else, for an hour or more.

  ♥♥♥

  The sound of his phone vibrating its way across the bedside cabinet to a tinny rendition of Persephone Jones’ Celestial Blues brought Jacob from post-sex doze to full alert.

  He flung his arm out behind him in search of the offensive device, but didn’t succeed in shutting the thing up. He rolled away from a sleeping Jenna and swiped the screen, switching the caller to speakerphone as he stalked naked to his duffle bag on the sofa.

  “Rick, I said no interruptions.” He growled as he shoved one leg then the other into his jeans, tucked his dick away then thumbed the buttons home with practiced ease.

  “I think I would have remembered, had you issued such orders.” The woman’s tone had a polished pout beneath the eastern European accent. “Jacob, darling, you know it wounds me when you do not return my calls.”

  “Ingrid, babe, I’ve been otherwise occupied. What’s with the sudden desire to get hold of me?” Jacob ran a palm over the back of his neck.

  “Darling, come for lunch at Sergio’s and I’ll tell you all about it. Twelve o’clock?”

  “Ah, yeah…” He swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat. The furious look a sex-rumpled Jenna was giving him from the tangle of white sheet both aroused him and skewered him to the spot. “I can’t make it. I’m in Melbourne.”

  “Australia? Oh Darling, how you love to tease me.” Jenna’s gaze hardened to shards of icy-green flint, cutting right to his core as she flung the sheet away and stood up; searched the floor for her clothes. “Come now, wear your charcoal suit, and the blue shirt we bought you in Milan. And do not be late. You know how Oswald is a stickler for time, he wants to discuss opportunities.”

  “Ingrid, I- ”

  “Twelve on the dot, Darling. Auf Wiedersehen.”

  The call dropped out leaving him in the path of an approaching hurricane. He didn’t know what to tackle first. He wanted to go to Jenna and haul her into his arms, but her stay back posture kept him where he was; with an ever-increasing abyss between them. Morning after awkwardness blown to hell and gone, taking every word he’d ever learned with it.

  Embarrassment burned hot on Jenna’s skin. She had to get out. She’d been a fool to believe him; a silly, stupid, romantic, fool. Of course he had someone. A man of Jacob Starr’s caliber didn’t remain unattached. Not with a smorgasbord of women offering themselves on a platter every time he walked in the damn room.

  She had no claim on him. They’d spent a wonderful night together, had some truly mind-melting sex. But it was a fantasy fulfilled. One she’d treasure and remember, once the hurt morphed into fond memory.

  Jenna felt his eyes on her as she pulled on her dress and shoved her bra and panties into the pocket of her coat. She wouldn’t regret what they’d shared; only the way it’d crashed back into reality with the harsh light of day.

  “Jenna.”

  “I should go…have to meet Cait.” She stooped to grab her shoes and headed for the door, coat clutched tight over the jiggle of her unsupported breasts.

  “She’s my…” He sounded dazed even to his own ears, lost.

  “Don’t, there’s no need to explain. I get it, I do.” She’d cut him off, hand on the door knob as she turned back to meet his eyes. “What happens in Melbourne stays in Melbourne.”

  With one final gaze that made Jacob feel as if she was committing him to memory, Jenna opened the door and left – before he could get a grip and stop her.

  Fuck Ingrid for her shitty timing.

  Fuck himself for a coward and taking the easy way out. How hard was it to say to a woman he wanted to be with for more than just one night that he wanted to be with her for more than just one night? He glanced at the phone in his hand, wondering how he’d got in this mess, and swiped before dialing.

  “Hey, man. Didn’t expect to hear from you.” Adam’s voice held the usual teasing, but there was a hint of curious concern too. “You and the lovely Jenna coming up for air? Hey, I’ve got second-round ops and autos, but we could meet up around six. Can’t wait to…”

  He must have realized Jacob hadn’t said anything because he didn’t finish. “Jacob? You still there?”

  “Ingrid called and…she left.”

  Adam cursed; muttering something Jacob didn’t catch. “You still want what you said you want?”

  Jacob nodded before he remembered Adam couldn’t see him. “Yeah, man, I do.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing gabbing to me for?”

  “Right.”

  He heard Adam laughing as he hung up, grabbed a tee, and charged out the still-open door; startling a maid and throwing an apology over his shoulder as he ran. The age-old question of which would be faster – elevator, or stairs, tying his gut in knots.

  Neither was fast enough. Jacob charged out the front doors of the hotel, a bare-chested wild man in half-buttoned jeans clutching a tee in a white-knuckled fist, eyes wide and darting for the smallest…

  “Jenna!” A glimpse of green silk against yellow as she closed the cab door. “Jenna!”

  “Sir? Can I be of some-”

  “A cab, get me a cab, now!”

  The valet signaled the first cab in the rack and held the rear door as Jacob launched himself inside.

  “Follow that cab.” His gut lurched as Jenna’s cab was swallowed by the midday squall of downtown traffic. Losing her wasn’t an option. Not again.

  Jacob whacked his elbow on the window as he shrugged into his tee, yanked his head through the neckline, and ruffled his hair with a shaky hand. He could see what he hoped was her cab pulli
ng left into a hotel loading zone. A flash of green confirmed it. He leaped out the second they came to a halt, his driver yelling for payment behind him.

  “Jenna!” She stopped and Jacob whispered a grateful thank you. Two minutes; he’d have it cleared up in two minutes if she’d let him. And then, well, then he wouldn’t lose her. “Jenna.”

  Sweet Lord, the sound of her name in his rich melodic voice would, always and forever, leave her breathless and wanting.

  “Jacob, it’s okay.” She sighed; gasped when he gripped her upper arms, heat bleeding through the fabric of her coat to warm her skin beneath.

  “No, listen. Please.”

  Her heart turned over at the hope and fear shadowing his beautiful eyes. She nodded and the grip on her arms eased. She wanted to tell him to hold her tighter, to keep her close. He was tall and solid and warm and ragged around his handsome edges. Oh God, bare feet and jeans! He must’ve chased out after her. She couldn’t speak; too many emotions clambering over each other in her throat, but she nodded to indicate he should say what he obviously needed to get off his chest.

  “Ingrid’s my agent. She’s from Austria, that’s just how she talks, the darlings, they don’t mean anything. I mean, sure, she’s got a great rack and before I took her on we flirted. I was new to Hollywood, had parties to go to, and she looked good on my arm. She knew people. I wanted good roles and she wanted a client who’d make her rich.”

  He took a deep breath, ready to add more if needed.

  Jenna reached up and pressed her fingertips to Jacob’s mouth, felt the soft give of his lips and the warm puff of his breath. “I thought…”

  “I know, it sounded bad, I get it, and with the Sally thing yesterday…you must think I’m a real player, but that’s not me, I promise. I leave that to Adam and his alter ego.”

  He looked so earnest, shoulders hunched in and brows drawn down over eyes that’d softened to a golden-brown.

  “Trust me, I’m not her type, and she doesn’t come close to mine.”

  Jenna leaned up on her tiptoes and smiled into Jacob’s kiss; wrapped her arms around his neck as he dropped a hand to the small of her back, pulled her in against his hips. Heat prickled over her skin, surged through her body in pops and zings. She pressed closer; resisting the desire to leap into his arms and wrap her thighs around his waist.

  “So what exactly is your type?” She murmured eons later when they came up for air.

  He laughed and ducked to lay a kiss behind her ear. “Hot redheads with a preference for green silk and a willingness to pay a guy’s cab fare.”

  She gaped at him and turned to see the cab driver advancing on them, a thundercloud of trouble brewing on his olive complexion as he elbowed through the semi-circle of people filming the moment on their phones.

  “You’re lucky you’re so good-looking.”

  The driver nodded his thanks when Jenna passed over the outstanding fare.

  “Agreed.”

  She snorted and took Jacob’s proffered hand. “You know this thing we’re starting will have gone viral by the time we make the lobby, right?”

  “I’d be disappointed if it hadn’t.” He grinned a megawatt smile and she laughed outright.

  “Your world’s a far cry from mine.” She found comfort in the squeeze of his hand on hers.

  “I know.” He held the door open for her to walk in ahead. “We can talk about it over dinner – my shout.”

  “Deal.” Jenna couldn’t help her own grin, and eyed his bare feet. “Somewhere less formal than Observe though.”

  “Hell yeah.” He dropped an arm across her shoulders and tugged her into his side. “I could murder a burger and fries.”

  Jacob’s phone rang as they stepped into the elevator and Jenna couldn’t help startling at the sound.

  “It’s sorted.” She looked up at that and he mimed Adam. “I’ll text and let you know.”

  Jacob wedged his phone in his back pocket and took her hand again as the elevator dinged their arrival on her floor.

  “He wants to meet up for dinner.”

  “Sure, Cait will want to come, what with it being our last night.”

  “Yeah.” Jacob agreed; quiet as another dose of ice-cold reality hit.

  “Yeah.” Jenna murmured and slipped her key card into the lock.

  Deciding they wanted each other had been the easy part.

  Chapter Seven

  Jacob worked his way along the route designated by Enzo, Oswald’s Director of Photography, with an aluminum double-barrel kolec blaster held at the ready.

  It was amazing how authentic sandstone walls, painted expando-foam, and a big-ass green screen, could make a guy experience the sights and sounds of an alien bazaar located in the Otaeb quadrant of the Outer Rim Territories.

  Half the Moroccan desert had worked its way inside Ethan Fox’s white wifebeater and beige leather pants, irritating the hell out of Jacob’s skin and invading places it had no right to be. The upside of filming in locations like the one they were based at for another three weeks, meant he didn’t need to fake Ethan’s permanent scowl of sexy intimidation.

  He pressed his back against the crumbling red stone at the corner and wiped the photogenic sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, before ducking muzzle-first into the alley.

  “And cut!” Oswald called, and the extras dressed in a colorful array of fabrics, makeup, and alien prosthetics, returned to their first positions. “Good, Jacob, good, good. You must remember Ethan’s motivation. He is not just breaking into Iskan City for kamna wine and sandfish stew. Dante and the crystal lotus are held captive, and time is against Ethan if he is to save his friend before Romanenko kills him. And of course, the beautiful Raylen Maize has her eyes on the prize too.”

  Jacob suspected the wizened director had a thing for the rainbow-haired interstellar jewel thief. And who could blame him? Savannah’s curves filled out Raylen’s cobalt catsuit to perfection.

  Oswald clapped Jacob on the back with one hand and took a drag on his cigarillo with the other; his moustache wriggling like a furry caterpillar across his top lip. “We go again, yes?”

  “Sure thing, Oswald.” Jacob sighed and ran a hand over his face, only to have Amy appear at his side as if she’d been teleported there. She tisked as she applied fresh corn-syrup blood to the knife wound riding his cheekbone, and added more sand to his hair with an artful wave of the aerosol canister she carried on her belt.

  He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Fudging a scene wasn’t his usual MO. He always came to set prepared. After two movies together he knew Ethan Fox as well as he knew himself – some would say better.

  Jacob called bullshit on his thoughts. He knew damn well what his problem was. Two months without laying hands on his woman was messing with his focus. He scuffed the toe of his combat boot in the ochre sand and tugged on the lapels of Ethan’s vest, the red leather squeaking against the straps of his shoulder holster. Loving his job didn’t negate the fact that another four months without Jenna would damn near kill him. Sure, he’d gone for longer, but this time he knew how her skin felt under his hands; remembered the scent of her, and how she tasted. The sounds she made when he fucked into her…

  Oswald cued the clapper boy and Jacob stepped to his mark, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his arms to dissipate the want his thoughts had stirred up. Ethan had to rescue Dante before Jacob could think more about Jenna.

  “Dante Jones and the Crystal Lotus, scene twelve, take two.”

  “And in…three…two…”

  Jacob made his way along the wall to the crowded alley for a second time. Ethan’s scowl and determination fueled by Jacob’s need to retain his reputation as a no-muss no-fuss professional. Besides, the sooner they wrapped the final chapter in the trilogy, the sooner he’d see her smile again. And he didn’t mean via a TransCom window on his laptop either.

  An hour later, while sound and lighting shifted their rigs into the three-walled room playing the role of Rom
anenko’s secret lair - where Dante would be hog-tied on his knees waiting for Ethan’s daring rescue – Jacob texted Jenna.

  Waiting for A.

  M’s sandy.

  WYWH.

  He checked the time once he tapped Send on the last kinda-sappy line. Three-thirty-eight in the afternoon Morocco time meant three-thirty-eight in the morning New Zealand time. It’d be a good four hours before she checked her phone.

  Jacob imagined sleeping Jenna. Her red tresses spread in fiery snarls across her pillow, soft snores emitting from a mound of stolen blankets. He smiled; maybe there’d be some green-painted toes peeking out the end.

  “You ready to do this?” Adam ducked out from behind the canvas door of his tent wearing his number-three costume, the one Wardrobe attacked with a utility knife before smearing it with blood and grime. Green tape circled his wrists, knees, and ankles, in preparation for the special effects geeks to add in the holocuffs and restraints in postproduction. But Adam would still spend the whole scene gagged with a blood sponge up one nostril, so when Xavier pulled Romanenko’s punches the hits still showed on Dante’s face.

  “I oughta be asking you that.” Jacob slipped his phone in to the pocket on the side of his chair and matched his stride to Adam’s.

  “Nah, your turn Friday.”

  Jacob scowled; he’d forgotten Ethan’s encounter with Raylen in scene twenty-nine. Savannah had winked at him over lunch in the dining tent the day before and asked him what his safeword was. He’d spooned spiced couscous and beef tagine with apricots onto a thick slice of bread, and shoved the lot into his mouth so he didn’t have to answer. His cheeks had flamed hot when she laughed at his discomfort. It made sense now. “Damn.”

  They weaved their way through crew members and milling extras to where Oswald waited; newly-lit cigarillo clamped between his teeth as he gesticulated with his hands, deep in creative conversation with a nodding Enzo.

  “Ah, Adam, Jacob, places, places. We must beat up Dante before dinner, yes?”