Best of Luck

by Jill Sanders

  His idea about selling franchises in his business was starting to be seriously under question. By himself. Sure, his business model was solid, but if he couldn’t stay under budget, how could he expect others to follow his lead?

  By the time he made it back into his office, the headache was back. He spent an hour going over the books and numbers for the new store, trying to find a hole.

  When his phone chimed, he smiled at seeing Amber’s face pop up on the screen.

  “Hi, gorgeous,” he answered, earning him a slight chuckle.

  “Hi, yourself,” she sighed and then just remained silent.

  “You doing okay?”

  “Yes. Thinking about you.” Her voice was low and he could hear other voices in the background.

  “Me too.” He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and focused only on her voice.

  “We’re about to shoot a scene ...” Her voice dropped off.

  He sat up slightly knowing that she was talking about an intimate scene. “Already?”

  “They don’t shoot things in the same order as you see in the final production,” she said, and he could hear a little humor in her voice.

  “Of course ... not.” He shook his head. “So?” He held his breath, his heart beating faster.

  “So ... I’m calling to let you know that I’m thinking about you.”

  He smiled. “Good.” He counted the seconds, then added. “Now I’m thinking about you. About how much I want you. Naked, next to me.” He heard her breath hitch. “How much I want to run my hands over your soft skin, up your sexy legs, until I reach the spot, just inside your thighs. You know the place?”

  He heard her sigh, then make a sexy little noise. “Yes.”

  “Good, now, when he kisses you, close your eyes and think about me. But not too much.” He thought about it and shook his head clear. “Not too much.”

  She giggled. “That’s what good acting is all about.” He heard someone yelling in the background. “I’ve got to go.” He heard her cover the phone and he heard her muffled response to the person before she got back on the phone. “Tonight. I should get done shooting around eleven. How about Chinese at my place?”

  “How about I bring Italian instead?”

  “Perfect. See you then.” She made a kissing noise and was gone.

  Setting his phone down, he realized his headache was gone and he was ready to tackle the spreadsheets on his screen with renewed vigor.

  By eleven that night, he’d not only found a hole that had been leaking thousands of dollars, he’d officially sealed it up by firing his new manager and hiring a new one. One on which he swore to keep a better eye. He carried the large paper bag with the two orders of cheese ravioli and salads up the elevator. When he noticed her front door open, he tensed, until he heard the laughing coming from just inside the doorway.

  She turned and smiled at him, then waved him in as she finished her phone conversation. Her hair had been piled up on her head in a makeshift bun with wisps of curls falling around her face. She was wearing a black and purple dress, with a light sweater covering her shoulders. She’d removed her heels, so she stood barefoot in the kitchen.

  He set the food down on the counter and walked over to her just as she hung up the phone. Not giving her a chance to speak, he claimed her mouth and pushed her up against the bar. Her hands wrapped around him, then her legs did the same as he pushed her up, setting her sexy bottom on the cold marble.

  His moved his hands to under her skirt, hiking it up until he found her, ready for him. She jerked his zipper down, and pulled his jeans off his hips. “Hurry, now,” she said almost out of breath.

  How could he deny her? In one smooth motion, he buried himself in her heat as their mouths met once more.

  By the time he came up for air, he became aware of a few things. One, his legs were tangled in his jeans and if he moved, he’d fall flat on his ass. Two, he’d forgotten to shut her front door and if anyone had happened to pass by, they would have just gotten a really good show.

  Quickly pulling up his jeans, he hurried over and shut her door. “I should have closed that,” he mumbled.

  She laughed. “Why? I have the entire floor. No one can come up without me buzzing them in.”

  “Oh.” He felt stupid, then smiled and watched her right her dress. “I guess I was starved.” He moved across the room towards her.

  Her eyes met his and he watched them heat. “So was I.”

  Chapter 9

  Over the next few weeks, Amber was too busy to miss Tom too much. There were several nights when she would text or call him, and he would show up at her condo—others where she had a few free hours and she’d hunt him down at his office or home.

  They had coffee, dinner, lunch, and once, even had breakfast together. But their schedules were so crazy, they hadn’t gotten a chance to spend a night together again since that first weekend at his cabin. Working with Kevin had presented a few other challenges. The man was very demanding. He would call out “cut” and break character so often she sometimes lost her concentration.

  The intimate scenes were awkward and a little painful; when she had to hold her position hovering over him for so long, her arms actually shook. Sure, she didn’t doubt it would look good on the big screen, but it was hell filming.

  She had made it through the worst parts and now the fun parts could begin. The rest of the scenes, if she was lucky, would be dialogue only. There were a few scenes she was looking forward to—one when she fell out a window—then there was the small chase scene where she ran through the streets chasing after Ralph, the small Chihuahua that played her pet in the movie, whose actual name was Princess Fefe. She was also looking forward to working with the stunt double, Kara, whom she’d worked with on Anomalous. Kara and she got along great. Kara wasn’t due to arrive in town for a few weeks, but they had been texting one another ever since they had met.

  She’d had a few lunch breaks with Marcus, but for the most part hadn’t had a chance to talk to him much since filming started. She knew his time was completely consumed with making sure everything they filmed was perfect or redone until it was. They had grabbed coffee a few times, and talked over bagels or the lunches the crew were given.

  Still, when her next free night came up, instead of calling Tom, she asked Marcus to meet her for dinner. She could see the sadness growing behind his eyes and hated seeing him suffer. She had texted Tom and told him that a friend needed her. He had replied that he was busy working on the finishing last-minute touches for opening day at his Aurora store tomorrow. She’d desperately wished she wasn’t filming that next day so she could go, but they had a full day planned ahead and would be filming on the capital’s outside staircase. It was one of the last scenes in the movie, but still, they weren’t even a quarter of the way through filming yet.

  This was when the mundane feeling usually set in. The cast members were usually pumped at the start of filming and the production team was usually excited near the end. No one ever gloated about the middle. Except her. She lived for each scene. Each time the clapper board clicked, she got a small rush. Sure, it was hard work, long hours of doing the same thing, over and over again, but for her, it was a way of perfecting her character. Maybe it was because she’d spent years on the stage or maybe because she’d always dreamed of just being in Colorado, but she couldn’t stop being excited as everyone around her grew more agitated.

  Even Marcus, which is why she set up the dinner reservations at the Chophouse and Brewery. One of her favorite places downtown. She was slightly late since she had to run home to shower and change, but she’d texted Marcus to let him know.

  When she walked into the busy place, she was directed to where Marcus was sitting near the back, in a dark corner. He was staring down at his phone and frowning at it.

  He glanced up and smiled when he saw her. Leaning up, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “There you are, beautiful.”

  She took his temporary lapse of focus
to reach over and take his phone, and drop it into her purse. “Hey,” he started, then shook his head.

  “You know my rule.” She smiled. “No phones while we eat.”

  He frowned even more. “Does that still work for you?”

  Instead of answering, she picked up her menu after ordering a glass of red wine. She noticed that he already had his favorite drink and was halfway through it.

  “What’s good here?” he asked, glancing down at his menu. She saw his eyes move to her purse and knew he was wishing he could see it again.

  “Everything. Their steak will melt in your mouth. Their shrimp and steak will send you over the edge.”

  He set his menu aside. “Then it’s settled.”

  She nodded and set hers aside too. “So”—she leaned closer, reaching across the table and taking his hand in hers— “are you going to tell me what Kim said?”

  He rolled his eyes and swallowed the rest of his drink.

  Later that night she let herself into her apartment and read through Tom’s text messages she’d missed over dinner.

  The weather called for rain tomorrow, which was the main reason they were filming on the steps of the capital. She knew the day would be full of wardrobe changes, and hair and makeup refreshing, and she would probably be chilled to the bone by the time it was all over. Still, if they didn’t get natural rain, there were ways around that, which meant no matter what, she’d be soaking wet.

  Crawling into bed, she dialed Tom’s number and settled back as she waited for him to pick up. Instead, she got his voice mail and left him a brief message telling him she’d be filming all day, but wishing him luck in opening his store the next day.

  Then she settled back in the massive bed, feeling very alone and wishing Tom were there with her so she could fall asleep in his arms again.

  When she woke, early that next morning, it was to her doorbell buzzing. Glancing at the clock, she frowned at the early hour. She still had two hours before filming started. Plenty of time to get dressed and head down to the location.

  Rolling out of bed, she paddled across the floor and hit the button next to the screen. “Yes?”

  “Miss Scott, I have a delivery for you,” a man’s voice sounded and she saw a man holding a package on the screen.

  “Oh, thank you.” She hit the button and waited by the elevator, half-asleep. When the door slid open, she was bombarded with flashbulbs—so much so, she took a few steps backwards and almost fell on her butt before turning around and rushing back into her condo, slamming the door and locking it. She was a little breathless as she leaned against the door.

  Then she caught a look at herself in the hallway mirror and gasped. Her hair was a mess; her nighty was skewed to the side. She’d forgotten to remove her stage makeup from the day before and looked like a woman who had just gotten out of bed. Closing her eyes, she wondered how she’d allowed herself to fall for the trick. More importantly, how bad would the photo of her damage her carefully planned persona. It wasn’t as if other actors didn’t have “those shots,” but she’d always prided herself in not falling into a category with unprepared pictures of her floating around. Sure, there were a few candid shots, but nothing like this.

  She dialed security and knew that the man would be removed from the building before she was ready to leave for a full day of filming. Stepping into the shower, she closed her eyes and thought about calling her agent to let her know what had happened.

  By the time she walked onto the set, she was fighting back a small headache. Her agent, Laura, scolded her on being careless when she’d called her, but then she’d assured her that the damage wouldn’t be reversible and warned her to be more careful.

  “It could have been so much worse. What if it had been some crazy with a weapon?” Laura had said.

  “It was some crazy with a weapon. Not a gun, but a camera,” she said, riding in the back of the private car Laura had sent to deliver her to the set for the day.

  “Seriously? Amber, you have to be more careful—remember what happened to Rebecca Schaeffer? Or John Lennon. Don’t even get me started on what happened to Jodie Foster ...”

  “Okay,” she broke in, “I promise not to open the door again unless I know who it is.”

  “I’m setting up security for your building. Which you should have done the moment you signed the papers on that place,” Laura added. “You’ll see them when you return home. I’ll forward you the company’s information, so you have it.”

  “Thank you.” She felt a shiver as she stepped out of the car into the cold. “Gotta go.”

  “Good luck.”

  Tom stood out in the cold and smiled at the large crowd that had shown up. Sure, it helped that they had over ten thousand dollars of giveaways planned for the first day the store was open, not to mention zero interest on any purchases over a certain dollar amount if they used their in-house financing. Still, the crowd was easily double that of the one at the Arvada store’s opening.

  He stood back as the mayor of Aurora cut the ribbon, then shook the man’s hand for several local papers and news stations. By the time the doors were opened, he blended into the background and watched the chaos ensue.

  By lunch, he was completely drained. He made his way back to the new store manager’s office, and sat behind the desk and drank a soda. He didn’t normally drink sugary drinks, but allowed it today since he knew he’d need the energy by the time the day was done. A few minutes later, someone brought in a sandwich he’d ordered. He sat in the silence and ate by himself, wishing he could call Amber, but knowing she was busy filming today.

  He had plans to head over to her place early, since she’d told him that filming would end roughly around five, when they would lose the outside light. He thought about taking her out to dinner. There was a new Thai place he wanted to try just down the street from her building.

  Pulling out his cell, he punched in a quick message, knowing she wouldn’t get it until later.

  “How about dinner? I will pick you up around six. Hope your day is going good.”

  Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he finished off his sandwich and went back outside to oversee the running of his third store.

  When he arrived later that night at her building, he was greeted by a tall, very large man standing at a small desk in the lobby of her building. Sure, there had been a person behind the desk most nights, but he’d never been stopped before.

  “May I ask who you’re here to see?” he asked.

  “Tom Albert to see Amber Scott,” he answered, expecting a quick nod, then the go ahead; however, the man stood up and waved him over to the desk.

  “ID,” he said, glancing down at the screen.

  He pulled his ID out and handed it to the man. “Miss Scott is expecting—”

  The man held up his hand and stopped him.

  Fifteen minutes later, Tom walked up to her door and knocked. When she answered, she was all smiles.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked, helping her on with her coat.

  She turned around and frowned up at him. “About?”

  “The added security?”

  To her credit, her chin only dropped a little. “Did you have trouble?”

  He chuckled. “That is an understatement.”

  “I gave them your name.” She turned slowly towards him.

  “Yes, and they had it. Still, the process was lengthy and in my opinion, a little ridiculous.”

  “It was Laura’s idea. My agent. Not mine.” She turned around fully to him, placing her hands over his. “After this morning she—”

  He tensed instantly. “What happened this morning?” This time it was his hands that gripped hers.

  “Nothing”—she blinked up at him several times— “just some reporter tricked me into buzzing him up.”

  “Didn’t you check the screen?” He felt his skin crawl at the possibilities.

  “Of course, I checked the screen. He held up a card, then a small
wrapped box. I thought it was ...” She shut her mouth and suddenly he felt like a heel. He hadn’t brought her anything since the flowers that first night.

  “Who was it?” He diverted the conversation.

  She shrugged. “Like I said, some reporter. All he got was some photos of me in my pajamas.”

  “Pajamas?” His eyes narrowed, since she was avoiding meeting his.

  “Nighty,” she corrected, meeting his eyes. Suddenly he couldn’t feel his fists. Glancing down, he realized it was because he had balled them up so tight his knuckles were turning white.

  “My god.” He took a couple calming breaths and unclenched his hands.

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing that I haven’t been seen wearing on the big screen before or on the cover of a magazine. Really, it’s no big deal.” She laid a hand on his arm, but he knew she could feel his anger vibrating throughout his entire body.

  “Fine,” he said between clinched teeth, then tried to relax a little. “Well, now I understand about the security.” He felt a twinge of relief knowing that she was better protected. “Are they twenty-four seven?”

  She nodded, and he reached down to take her hand with his own. “Good. Shall we?” he added, not wanting to start an argument on an empty stomach.

  She smiled. “You aren’t mad?”

  He was, but he’d gotten in enough arguments with her over the years to know better than to voice his full opinion. Instead, he decided to sidetrack the entire situation. At least for now.

  He turned to her in the elevator and shook his head. “No, but I think your family should hear it from you, instead of running into the Rock downstairs.”

  When the doors slid open, they both glanced at the large man standing behind the small desk. His arms were crossed over his massive chest and she realized that the man looked and acted just like Dwayne Johnson.

  Her eyes followed Tom’s and then she chuckled, and wrapped her arms around him. “Does Gary intimidate you?”