And his creep factor just hit the roof.
Her body. He wanted her body. Worse than a cheat, she’d run into a porn star scout...or a pervert. Or both.
Bella shook her head. Sane, mentally stable, good looking, non-gay, single men did not enter Bella Hopkins’s life.
“That’s it. I’m outta here.”
Jetting past him, she wondered how in the world somebody thought that she could be a porn star. She was a hundred and fifty pounds, for heaven’s sake. Didn’t porn have standards these days?
Not that she’d ever considered his offer...okay, only for a second. Maybe five. Hey, she could have fantasies.
After the way Bryan had smashed her self-confidence by cheating on her, she really needed the confirmation that she was still desirable. Bryan Singer. That bastard.
Tears fountained up to the rim of her eyes at the thought of him. Today was a bad enough morning without rewinding her memory tape. But she couldn’t help it. Every rejection felt like his. Every guy seemed to carry some part of him.
The morning she’d woken up to find his photo splashed across tabloids, making out with a model and claiming her as his girlfriend, her entire world had flipped on its axis. It had been the most miserable day of her life, but she’d needed that cold wake-up call.
And she was never going to forget that.
Her foot hit the corner of a shelf, knocking cereal boxes off. Anxious, she snuck a look back. He was still following her. Drat. The guy was tenacious. He’d probably been in this business for long.
“Leave me alone or I’ll call security,” she hollered at him, making heads turn towards them.
Crossing the space between them, he dropped his voice and whispered, “I’m sorry about earlier. What I meant was that I want offer you a job. An honest, decent job.” He helped her put back the cereal boxes. “I’m not a creep, scammer, or perv. I’m just flustered. I really didn’t expect to run into you here.”
Her heartbeat stilled.
Come on, heart, are you going to do this to me after I laid off cholesterol for the entire week? Beat!
“I don’t need a job.” She tucked herself into a crowded aisle to escape him.
But her relief was short-lived. She ran right into him when she exited the row between chips and chocolates.
He kept pace with her, twice as eager as before.
“Wait. I should probably start from the beginning.” He inhaled ceremoniously, then held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Jamie Star. You can call me Jamie or J or whatever.” He laid a business card over the frozen macaroons in her cart. “I’m a TV writer producing a show that’s been picked up by ABC.”
Bella lifted her eyebrows, a little interested now. “A TV show.”
“A sitcom, actually. It’s awesome. Brilliant. Hilarious. It’s about this couple who...” Seeing the impatience flashing on her face, he cut his elevator pitch short. “Never mind. The point is, I want you to play a character on the show.”
“I’m not playing anyone.” Bella joined the long checkout line, which snaked halfway across the store.
She was going to have to cut her trip short.
“The part’s not hard.” Jamie, unrelenting, stood behind her, even though he had nothing to bill. Bella didn’t miss the gazes that shot to them when he leaned in a little too close to her. The shoppers around them must be thinking that she and this guy were a couple. “You only have fifteen lines of dialogue in an episode. On average.”
“Look. I can’t act. I can’t.” Even the word ‘act’ broke her out in rashes. “Why don’t you look for someone who actually wants to be an actress?”
“To tell you the truth, the actress who was originally playing the character injured herself midway through the show, and you look exactly like her. I need you so I can finish the show. Tell me, how can I convince you to take her part?”
“Sorry, but nothing can convince me to go back to LA.”
The entertainment industry was not a place she’d ever go back to. One million dollars and wild horses couldn’t drag her back there.
She belonged in her quiet, cozy room on 5 Washington Place, reading Goethe and eating Hershey’s cookies and cream; staying away from the spotlight where she could be criticized, picked at, and judged. Where her fragile ego could be shredded like paper.
The words she’d heard from Bryan’s friends in LA still echoed in her ears. She’d probably be scarred by them for as long as she lived.
“Nice ass, Bella. Except, I can’t really see it under all the flab.”
“Those are your legs? I’m sorry, I seriously thought I’d hit a wall.”
“Here comes Miss Whale!”
Those words had hurt her, made her cry, but she’d risen above all that through the years. Now, their sting was faint, like the momentary prick of a needle.
“We’re filming in New York,” he said.
“I have a day job.”
“Where do you work?”
“None of your business.”
He brought his face closer, until a faint scent drifted up to her nose. “I’ll pay you twice as much as you currently make.”
Her lips thinned. “I’m happy with what I make.”
He scoffed. “You live in NYC. You can’t be happy with what you make. Rent is through the roof. The subway isn’t cheap. Food’s not cheap. A few extra thousand dollars could buy you a lot.”
“I don’t need a lot.” Grimacing, Bella took a step away from him.
“Come on. Be honest. You must want something.”
Yeah, she wanted someone who would love her and want her forever. But he couldn’t give her that, could he?
“Get in another line,” she demanded, feeling uneasy at the judgmental stares around them.
She was 5’6, a hundred and fifty pounds with a double chin and ugly, thick-framed glasses while he was six feet tall and had no obvious physical flaws. Bella could hear what everyone around them was thinking.
Did she eat his brain, too?
“Why?” he asked.
“This one’s going to move slow. I have a lot of stuff.” Bella set her bent elbows over her chest.
He squared her long stare with one of his own. “I can wait.”
Her finger shot to the aisle on the left. “That line over there looks empty.”
He didn’t budge. Being stubborn, was he?
Well, she was stubborn, too. No matter how much he tried to browbeat her into accepting some vague part in a show she was certain did not exist, she wasn’t going to fold. She’d folded and bent enough. For her mother, Bryan...that list was going to end right there.
Finally, when it was her turn at the till, she threw stuff from her cart onto the counter, performing the actions a lot more hurriedly than she usually would. She wanted to get out of here ASAP.
As the woman at the till scanned her groceries one by one, Bella stretched her side against the edge of the till. “Look. It’s nothing personal, but I don’t trust good looking guys.”
“You think I’m good looking, huh?” He rubbed his jaw cockily.
Now she’d stroked his ego. Great.
“What I really think is that you should leave me alone now because I’m not interested in being an actress.”
“Please.” He was groveling. It was fun to watch him grovel, so she prolonged her enjoyment. “Consider it paid charity. I really need this show to get made, and I can’t do it without you.”
“You’re late. I already donated to Red Cross this year.” She was sorely tempted to stick out her tongue, but that would be too juvenile, so she restrained.
“Give me five minutes to convince you. Let’s sit down somewhere.” His hands were clasped in a ‘namaste.’ “I’ll buy you coffee. And muffins...and cake...and fries. Everything.”
Bella dug her hands into her hips. “It’s not fair to stereotype people based on their weight. I may be overweight but I didn’t get to this point by eating muffins, fries, and cake.”
“You’re not fat. You’re...f
luffy... in a good way. Homely... that’s the word. No...round?” He fell silent momentarily, tangled up in his search for the perfect euphemism.
Bella fired a wary sigh at the cashier.
The one thing worse than being called fat was being called something stupid like fluffy or cute or round. Fluffy and round were adjectives for a beach ball or a teddy bear, not a human being.
He latched back onto his stream of thoughts that had wandered briefly. “But if you want salad, that’s okay, too. Any place you want. Jamba Juice’s close, I think.”
Jutting her lower lip out, Bella twisted her mouth into a determined smirk. “Home’s the only place I’m going.”
“Sure. We can talk at your place.” Not letting up, he looped the plastic bags that contained her weekly groceries over his wrist. Holding her groceries hostage, was he?
She wasn’t going to give in.
Fluttering ahead on her wedged sandals, Bella cast him a backward glance. “What did you say your name was again?”
It’d help her report him at the precinct for grocery theft. If that was even a crime.
“Jamie. Jamie Star.” Sliding the plastic covers up to his elbows, he tried to get the third one in hand. Those bags couldn’t be light.
Bella grinned. She might not have scored her fated soul mate, but it seemed like she’d scored a part-time slave to carry her heavy shopping.
“You’re persistent.” Bella said, wondering if he really intended to carry this stuff all the way to her apartment. Not that she was going to let him. That would be both stupid and unsafe. However, she would let him carry it halfway, then pretend to listen to him, so he left her alone.
“Very.” He agreed, with easy humor, valiantly adding the last ten-pound bag to his load. “So are you going to listen to my business proposal?”
Bella threw him a haughty nod. “Carry these bags ten more blocks and I will.”
*
So somehow, she’d ended up at Café Grumpy with Jamie.
Cradling a cold cup of iced coffee between her palms, Bella made an effort to hold onto her composure, which was slipping away faster than money at a Vegas casino.
The little critical voices inside her were bombarding her with guilt. What was she doing here with someone she’d met five minutes ago at the supermarket?
He’ll think you’re a pushover now.
“Keep it short. We’re on the clock.” Bella tapped the edge of the coffee table, sliding a glance at her iPhone. She wasn’t in control of the situation, but she could make it seem like she was.
“To recap what I said earlier, I want you to act in my new show. It’s called Troubled Domesticity. You’ll have to work five days a week—rehearsals Monday through Thursday, shooting on Fridays.” He paused. “You’ll make seventy-five grand in two months and I’ll get you an acting coach. As a bonus, you get to work alongside great actors like Catherine Martin and eat free lunch everyday.”
“You missed the 401k.” Bella laid her hand to cover her iPhone on the table.
A frown weighed down his lips. “Sadly, we don’t offer a 401k.”
“Too bad then.”
He slammed an impatient hand on the table. “Please—”
“Listen. I don’t even trust you, okay? Why do you think I’m going to agree to act in a show that’s probably a fake?”
“Because you’ll be saving my ass if you do,” There was a desperate note in his voice. “Your resemblance to Martina is unbelievable. Once we dye your hair red—”
“Red?” She pulled one leg from the ground, inadvertently kicking Jamie’s knees. “In your dreams, pal.”
Okay, that hadn’t been entirely inadvertent. But it got her message across. He’d better not start painting pictures with her hair red because she wasn’t giving up her natural blonde for anything. “Besides, what are your credentials as a writer? Written anything I would know of?”
“I’m not in the habit of gloating, but I’ve had a pretty successful career so far.” He fixed a proud grin on his lips—and those hated dimples appeared again. “Mostly movies, though. Only moved to the big apple a couple of months ago. TD’s my first show.”
“Don’t give me vague statements. I want names. Tell me the names of movies you’ve written.” Her nails clicked testily against the side of her cup.
“Google me.” His voice reached over the monotonous music playing in the café. “Then you’ll have names and you’ll have proof that I am who I say I am.”
“Don’t think I won’t do it.” She tapped on the touchscreen of her iPhone. “How do you spell Star?”
“S-t-a-r.”
Google turned up one million results with his name.
“Well, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She clicked on his Wikipedia, which showed a guy who roughly resembled the Jamie sipping lemon slush opposite her. “Your Wikipedia entry says you were born on June second. So you’re a Gemini?”
Thank goodness she’d given up on him. Bryan had been Gemini, too.
She was never going to date a Gemini again.
“Is that important?” Jamie asked, mildly amused.
“Not really. Let’s see...you wrote The Fall, Affairs of the Heart, Unlocking Alice.”
They were all pretty famous movies. Pop culture staples. She’d watched all of them and enjoyed more than a few.
Not something he needed to know.
“I don’t—” Bella’s voice got lodged in her throat when she read the name of his debut movie.
Holy shit, Jamie Star was the screenwriter who’d written Love Me Like You Do. The ‘Love Me Like You Do.’ Her all-time favorite movie. She could recite every line from the script. It was the best love story ever written. Period. And he’d written it. The same Jamie Star who wanted her to act in his first sitcom and who’d carried her groceries ten blocks.
Also, he was Grant Star’s son.
She scooted closer to Jamie. “You wrote Love Me Like You Do?”
In the span of a few seconds, his credibility and likeability had risen exponentially.
He confirmed her statement with a nod. “Not my best, but it was my first, so I was still learning.”
“Are you kidding me? I adore that movie. No, I’m obsessed with that movie. I’ve watched it, like, twenty-five times.” Flapping her fingers, trying to make sense, Bella went into hyper-fangirl mode. “Oh my gosh, when Damien proposes to Maddie...I cry every single time I hear him say ‘You’re me, Maddie. The me I never thought could exist in this world.’ Such deep, deep words. And the scene where her brother takes her surfing? Fuckin’ genius. I can’t get enough of their bond. If there’s a sequel—”
“Wow, wow, wow.” Jamie’s waved his hands. “You went all fangirl on me there.”
“I get really excited about that movie.” Bella kept herself from blushing. So much for composure. “By the way, can I get an autograph?”
“Only if you agree to act in my TV show.” Jamie cupped her hands with his, over the table. “I promise you’ll fall in love with the story. It’s exactly like Love Me Like You Do. It has the heart, the feels, but it’s so much funnier.”
The repercussions of her uncontrolled fangirling were now biting her in the ass.
“I can’t.” Bella rattled her mind for an excuse. “I won’t have the time. I have…children I need to take care of. Five of them. I’m a single parent, actually.”
Could she tell a more obvious lie?
“Hire a babysitter. Pre-tax, your pay will be about seventy-five grand, and if we get renewed for a second season, you can renegotiate your salary. That should more than cover the cost of childcare.” He speared the table with the tip of his finger.
“I don’t think it’ll work...” Gulping the iced coffee so quickly it froze her tongue, Bella recomposed herself. “Earlier, I didn’t tell you where I worked, but I actually work in investment banking. It’s a full-time job. I have no time for anything else.”
“If you’re gonna lie, at least pick a convincing profession.” Jamie p
lanted his elbow on the table, and leveled his gaze at her. “You look nothing like an investment banker. And you’re lying about the kids, too. You don’t have any kids. You’re single. My guess is, you work at a well paying white-collar job. You’re trying to lose weight but you have a sweet tooth you can’t control. Something tells me you don’t have a brother and father was absent while you were growing up.”
Bella was so shocked, she held her breath. He’d narrated her entire life story to her in a minute. Without checking Facebook or LinkedIn.
Bella combed through her hair. “How did you guess my father was absent? The rest, you could have deduced from the stuff that I bought at the supermarket. I didn’t buy enough for a family, and everything I bought was healthy, expensive, and stuff only an educated and financially comfortable woman would buy.”
Jamie accepted her comments, sipping lemon slush. With noon approaching, the sunlight’s angle had changed. It now caressed his golden hair, coloring it an iridescent white. Bella took a shaky breath. No, she couldn’t start noticing such things about him.
Clearing his throat, Jamie geared up for Sherlock Holmes part 2. “You get jumpy around men, which indicates you didn’t grow up being around a lot of men. And while you’re not uncomfortable around older women, I spied you getting really tense when you saw that the lady in front of with so many bottles of wine. Mom was alcoholic, I assume?”
“None of your business.” Bella ground on her teeth, curling her toes. Why was he digging up her unsavory past? Recalling her past released a storm of chaotic emotions in her. Her childhood, her adolescence, her teenage years...there were no happy memories that belonged in that period of time.
“Hey, I feel your pain. My mother was a cokehead. Died of overdose. You might’ve read in the papers. Melanie Star.”
Bella remembered Melanie Star’s death. Though she couldn’t have been older than fourteen when Melanie had died, it’d been a well-publicized death.
Melanie Star had been a glowworm—she’d shined brightly and faded quickly.
“At least your dad didn’t let you starve while you were growing up.” Bella hissed, a little too harshly.
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