Publicity Stunt (Hollywood Knights Book Two)

by Cassie Reed

  “Yeah, no problem” Layton murmured. “I’ll be sure to pay off my first session right after I pay off the rest of my heaping debt.”

  “We’re gonna get that figured out,” Trayce said resolutely, eyeing the neckties strewn on the top of Layton’s bed. “You need help with your tie?”

  “Yeah,” Layton said with a sigh. He shook his head suddenly. “Nah, you know what? Never mind. I’m not dressing up for them. Those yuppies at FAME can kiss me where the sun doesn’t shine.”

  Trayce gave a nod.

  It was going to be a long day.

  ***

  Layton’s mood seemed to have improved slightly by the time they pulled into the parking garage of the hotel where FAME was to hold its quarterly open forum. As familiar faces rushed over to greet him, notably two women in a row who seemed more than happy to bend over and plant a series of friendly kisses on either cheek, Layton seemed more in his element. Sure, maybe the world had continued to go on without him while he was hurt, but he definitely hadn’t been forgotten. It was time to let the board of FAME know he wouldn’t be silenced, either.

  Rolling Layton’s wheelchair into a designated space in the crowded meeting hall, Trayce took a seat next to him and waited for the forum to commence. As the opening announcements began, his eyes trailed up, just in time to catch Olivia taking a seat on-stage. He nearly would have done a doubletake if his eyes hadn’t stayed so firmly glued to her the moment he saw her. Slouching in his chair, he crossed his arms. Would she see him? She definitely would when Layton got his chance to speak. Too late, he thought as her eyes landed squarely on him. The surprise in her eyes was palpable, to say the least.

  It’s not that he hadn’t been thinking about her in the days that had passed since he last saw her. In fact, it was more that he hadn’t stopped thinking about her the entire time. With each day that passed, the moments they had spent together felt more and more surreal, until he found himself asking if they had ever really happened. Only he knew they had, because he couldn’t stop running them through his head on an endless, restless loop.

  He missed her.

  Ironically, that single realization had kept him stuck firmly in place. He couldn’t just call her up and tell her that. It felt strange. After all, he had been the one who had been so adamant about letting the one thing that joined them together, the incident at the train station, fade from his consciousness whatsoever. But without that, what else did they have in common?

  Well, judging from Olivia’s position on the board of FAME, it looked like there may have been one more thing.

  Their eyes connected in fleeting glances a few more times as the forum went on. Before Trayce knew it, it was Layton’s turn to speak. Signaling he could take himself by landing a hand on one wheel, Layton shot him a confident smile before wheeling himself up to the center of the room to the main microphone.

  “My name is Layton Bradford,” he began. “I’ve been a card-carrying member of FAME for six years now. During that time, this organization has helped me in countless different ways, and to that, I’m indebted. Unfortunately, I’ve also been indebted in a different way lately. As you can probably tell, I was in an accident not too long ago, carrying out a FAME-approved stunt. Yes, I willingly and knowingly signed on for the job, knowing I hadn’t yet accrued the needed hours of stunt work to qualify for the catastrophic coverage offered by this organization. But that brings me to my first item for the board, the reconsideration of the seemingly arbitrary amount of hours needed to qualify for coverage in this business. Actors may meet that threshold no problem, they have no problem getting screen time. But stunt work is an entirely different thing altogether. . .”

  Layton carried on, and Trayce had to admit he was impressed. It seemed like the mandatory downtime had given him plenty of time to think over the points he wanted to make, and make them he did, so well that when he was done speaking, he received a resounding round of applause, a rarity in a usually disjointed room. The next person to speak, an actress charging that all sets use and stick to, she emphasized, an approved list of caterers, was decidedly less charismatic. “I haven’t received the right kind of dressing on my salad in six weeks,” she levied.

  Mercifully, the forum eventually came to an end, and as Trayce wheeled Layton toward the exit, he couldn’t help but glance back toward Olivia. Much to his dismay, she had disappeared.

  A crowd had gathered in the wide hall outside the meeting room, and as Layton set out to greet everyone he recognized, and everyone who seemingly recognized him, Trayce found his eyes wandering from face to face. Had he really missed his opportunity to speak to her again?

  ”Fancy seeing you here,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

  Turning, the sight of Olivia instantly made his heart beat faster. “Likewise,” he told her, attempting, but struggling, to play it cool. In a well-tailored emerald green pantsuit and black satin pumps, her dark hair tied into a chic bun, she exuded the refined elegance he had come to crave from her. While she looked just as fantastic in a pair of jeans and sneakers, the way she carried herself when she was dressed up made him want to bow at her feet. Instead, he tapped his brother on the shoulder. “Layton.”

  Layton turned his chair around, his eyes widening as he did. “Heee-ey,” he said, his voice registering his surprise. Clearing his throat, he held out a hand to Olivia. “I mean, hello,” he continued more confidently. “Nice to meet you.”

  Olivia smiled, shaking his outstretched hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said. “Great speech out there, by the way. I want you to know, as a board member, I took it very seriously.”

  Layton nodded. “Thanks, but I owe my brother here some credit. He helped me with a lot of the talking points. I just put them all together in a sort of coherent way. . . I hope,” he added.

  “It made perfect sense to me, and believe it or not, it’s actually been on the board’s radar for a while,” Olivia replied. She paused, folding her hands together nervously before continuing. “So if I wanted to keep this conversation going, who should I contact?”

  “Trayce,” Layton answered quickly, shooting him a subtle grin that seemed to say See? I’m still your wingman. “He’s the brains. I’m just the poster child.”

  “Uh-huh.” Olivia’s gaze traced up to Trayce’s face with interest.

  Layton threw a wave at someone, but whether they were real or not was anyone’s guess. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, lowering his hands to his wheels. “But it was great to meet you, Olivia. Hopefully this won’t be the last time you run into one of us.” With one last pointed look in Trayce’s direction, one that said shoot your shot, man, he was off.

  Olivia tilted her head. “You didn’t mention your brother was going to address FAME.”

  “And you didn’t mention you were on the board,” Trayce countered. “If we’re keeping track, of course.”

  “Touché.” She took a step toward him, their conversation instantly becoming more intimate despite the crowded hall. “So. How can we keep this discussion going?”

  “Have dinner with me,” Trayce told her, watching her lips part in surprise. He couldn’t blame her. He had even surprised himself with the request, but he couldn’t squander what could have been one of the last opportunities he had to see her again.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Are you hosting?”

  “At my place?”

  “Well, you’ve already been to my house.”

  “That’s fair,” he told her, his mind scrambling around the thought of having someone like her at his tiny apartment. At the same time, he would take what he could get. “When are you free?”

  “I have plans this evening, but how about tomorrow night?” she offered, a tiny smirk adorning her face. “That should give you time to clean up.”

  “Clean up? That should take about five minutes in my shoebox.” He looked at her. “You sure you wanna come over? It’s not exactly the Ritz.”

  “Hey, I showed you mine,” she told
him with a teasing grin. “Time to show me yours.”

  He returned her look. “Sure you can handle it?”

  “You probably don’t need to worry about protecting me,” she said, appearing to quote him. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

  “You’ve got a pretty good memory, you know that?”

  “Well I do memorize scripts for a living.”

  “Good point,” he said, beginning to notice the not-so-discrete stares of others as they stood together. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”

  Olivia gave him one last smile as they parted. “Looking forward to it.”

  Trayce repressed the urge to fist pump right then and there. She wasn’t the only one looking forward to it. For the next twenty-four hours, he was sure it was going to be all he could think about.

  15

  Olivia went about setting out the platter of crudités for her and Mia’s girl’s night in a daze. Her mind still spun with thoughts of Trayce from earlier, and how good he had managed to make a simple white button down and navy slacks look. Especially from the back. She paused, her busy fingers hovering above the appetizers. Or was it the front she liked more? She couldn’t decide. Either way, it was making her hungry, she noted as she popped a carrot stick into her mouth.

  “Guests arriving,” her security system announced, prompting her out of her thirsty train of thought. Olivia’s stomach did a flip. That was Mia. Normally, she would have welcomed her presence, but with both their pairs of eyes obviously on the leading role in Meredith Mitchum’s new movie, she felt a nervous tension within her that refused to go away. She was still lost for a way to bring it up. She had considered “casually” leaving her laptop open to a page in the script, and playing dumb when Mia noticed. Oh, this was the script you were talking about? Talk about a coincidence!

  No, that kind of hemming and hawing wasn’t going to work.

  As she swung open the door after Mia’s obligatory doorbell ringing, she let out a sigh. Mia’s eyes widened, a bottle of wine poised in her hand. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Olivia stiffened. How had she been so obvious? “I—of course,” she replied, a smile painting her face. “That was a sigh of relief from seeing that wine.”

  “I’m sure you need it,” Mia said as she stepped into the house. “If I were a board member of FAME, I’d have one of these for breakfast.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Olivia said, shutting the door behind her. “I like to be involved.”

  “Sure,” Mia replied. “But they don’t call them bored members for nothing.”

  Olivia smirked. “Very funny. But I wasn’t so bored when I ran into Trayce Bradford.”

  Mia’s jaw dropped. “Get out.” She took a perfunctory glance over her shoulder as though checking for eavesdroppers.

  Olivia frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Sorry, force of habit,” Mia said. “But seriously, I just saw the TMI story about you two. Was that really you on the back of his bike?” She waited, her eyebrows lifting as she took stock of Olivia’s undoubtedly guilty expression. She gasped. “You guys have been meeting up?”

  Olivia shrugged. “I’m sure some people probably think that,” she said obtusely. “Some people probably think we’re meeting up tomorrow. . .too.”

  “Olivia!”

  “It’s just dinner.”

  Mia grinned. “Famous last words.”

  “I know. . .”

  “I want an invite to the wedding, by the way,” Mia reminded her. “For introducing you.”

  “Hold your horses,” Olivia said, raising a hand. “Trayce was there with his brother. There was an accident and FAME wasn’t able to offer any coverage because of that stupid hourly rule everyone’s been complaining about for decades. So we’ll probably just talk more politics.”

  “Well, is Trayce’s brother going to be at this dinner too?” Mia asked. “Or is it just you two?”

  Olivia struggled to suppress an excited smile from creeping onto her face this time. “It’s just us,” she said, pausing thoughtfully. “I think. . .”

  “Come on,” Mia declared. “Let’s take this wine upstairs and pick you out something to wear.”

  “Wait,” Olivia said. “What about your something-to-wear?”

  “Olivia,” Mia said, one of her feet already resting on one stair. “The night is young. We’ll get to that. Now come on. We’ve got a fashion show to do.”

  ***

  The following evening, Olivia found herself face to face with Trayce’s front door. As she had walked up the pathway in the black, stacked heel booties Mia had picked out to go with a simple pair of skinny jeans and a printed sleeveless blouse, all of which she was now doubting was dressed-up enough for dinner, she had spied Trayce’s motorcycle in a parking space nearby. So this really was his apartment, she steadied herself, giving his door two short knocks.

  Of course it was his apartment, she reasoned with herself as she waited. Why would he have gone to the trouble of inviting her over just to give her a fake address?

  The door swung open and Trayce smiled as he took her in. She loved when he smiled, the slightest dimple marking one cheek and those intense brown eyes of his crinkling at the sides. That smile had the power to melt her, but instead, she let out a silent breath of relief. In a pair of well-worn, but well-fitting, dark wash jeans and a pleasingly snug gray T-shirt, he mirrored her casual look. Anymore and she would have been overdressed.

  She held up the bottle in her hands. “I brought wine.”

  “Thanks,” he said, taking it from her and reading the label. “This’ll go perfect. Come on in. I was just about to get things going.”

  “Oh,” Olivia said curiously as she stepped into his apartment. Her steps brought her straight into the kitchen, where Trayce was already retrieving a corkscrew. Placing two glasses onto the counter in front of him, he poured them each a glass of wine.

  “Cheers,” he said, handing Olivia her glass. Clinking them together, they each took a sip.

  Olivia nodded toward the busy countertop. “Is this your mise en place?”

  “It is,” Trayce confirmed. “Pizza okay, or. . .you’re not gluten free, are you?”

  Olivia shook her head. “I’m actually very pro gluten.”

  “Funny,” Trayce said with a smirk. “My dough guy says the same thing.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You have your own dough guy?”

  Trayce gave a shrug. “Don’t you?”

  “You do know how easy pizza dough is to make, right?”

  “Not like this,” he countered, motioning to the rolled out square sheet of dough waiting to be topped. “This one gets the best crispy edges.”

  She grinned at him. “I didn’t know you were such a pizza connoisseur.”

  “Hey,” he told her. “It’s the little things in life.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. Gazing around Trayce’s small but surprisingly spacious apartment, she felt a feeling of calm rush over her. For the first time in a while, she just felt normal. “You know, I was afraid you were going to have no decorating sense,” she noted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought there would be old motorcycle hub caps hanging on the wall or something.”

  “Motorcycle hub caps?” Trayce repeated slowly. He nodded. “That would actually look pretty cool.” He shot her a tongue-in-cheek grin.

  She returned his look. “So,” she said, setting her glass down. “Can I help with some of the toppings?”

  “I was hoping you would,” he replied.

  Washing their hands, they set about topping the pizza. Olivia watched with interest as Trayce’s large hands became graceful implements in the kitchen, and she relished the chance to be able to stand next to him in the enclosed space. She liked watching his fingers as they placed even rows of pepperoni, thick veins tracing up from the tops of his hands up into his strong forearms. Arms that had held her now more than once. She was getting hot just thinking about it. Or
maybe that was the heat from the oven.

  “What’s next?” Trayce asked her as he laid down the final circle of pepperoni.

  “I’m really more of a veggie girl myself.” Olivia surveyed the ingredients set out on the counter and grabbed a bowl. “Black olives okay?”

  “I wouldn’t have put them out if they weren’t,” Trayce said. “Be my guest.”

  Olivia set about decorating the pizza, covering each leftover white square of mozzarella that wasn’t covered with pepperoni. First, she placed the olives, then she added a smattering of sundried tomatoes. Finally, she carefully placed slivers of green bell pepper. “There,” she said, satisfied.

  Trayce nodded. “Nice job. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were going for a certain pizza aesthetic.”

  “Oh, I definitely was,” she said. “It’s important that all the shades of the pizza color wheel are represented on the pie.”

  “On the pie?” Trayce repeated. “Are you sure you’re not the pizza connoisseur?”

  She grinned. “I dabble.”

  “Uh-huh, I bet you do,” Trayce said. “Well, is it ready to bake?”

  Olivia tilted her head, taking one last look at the decorated pizza. She felt oddly accomplished. “I think it is.”

  Stepping back, she watched as Trayce opened the oven door and bent over to carefully place the pizza inside. Randomly, she felt her eyes trace over to check out his backside before she looked away. Who was she kidding, she thought as her eyes moved back over to take him in. She would seize the view while she could get it. Carpe diem, baby.

  Shutting the oven door, he seemed to glance back at her before turning around all the way, catching her not-so-discrete stare. Immediately, she felt her cheeks begin to warm in embarrassment, but he grinned at her, not seeming to mind. “So,” he said, standing upright again and looking at her. “We’ve got about twenty-minutes to kill. What should we do now?”