Gage: A Love Under the Lights Novel

by Paige, Rochelle

  I dropped down into the seat behind me and tugged her into the one next to me. “You’re the one who threw down the gauntlet, doubting my ability to be romantic. I’m just the one who picked it up and accepted the challenge, baby.”

  The lights dimmed, but I still caught the questioning look in her eyes. “That isn’t the only reason, though. Right?”

  “Fuck no!” I slid my arm around her shoulders and bent my head low so she could hear me over the sound from the projector as it turned on. “This thing between us isn’t a game to me. In fact, it’s the opposite; more real than any relationship I’ve ever experienced before.”

  “You’re not the only one who reads stuff, and from the articles I’ve seen about you, I’m not sure that’s saying much. You’re not exactly known as a relationship kind of guy.”

  “Shit,” I groaned, leaning my head back against my seat.

  “I’m just teasing,” she reassured me, lacing her fingers through mine and leaning her head against my shoulder. “Sort of.”

  “Morgan—”

  She squeezed my hand, and I took it as a sign that she wasn’t done talking.

  “It’s no secret that I had concerns about this thing between us, but so far, you’ve been proving me wrong in the most amazing ways.”

  It was good to hear since I’d been trying hard to prove to her that I was willing to put effort into what was building between us. “I don’t want you to be worried, especially not when I’m going to be stuck on set in Georgia while you’re here.”

  “It isn’t going to be easy,” she admitted softly. “But hearing you refer to this as a relationship makes me a lot less scared than I was even a day ago.”

  “I did use the R word, didn’t I?” And I hadn’t stuttered, broken out in a rash, or run screaming from the theater. If I hadn’t already known my reaction to Morgan was unique, that would’ve made it glaringly obvious because I’d long avoided anything that might even hint of a commitment to a woman.

  “Yup,” she giggled as she leaned her head on my shoulder and settled in to watch the movie.

  I’d been to red carpet premiers and opening nights with dates in the past, but I’d never gone to see a movie with a woman just for the sake of watching it with her before. Having a beautiful woman on my arm had always been a part of the business since it was expected. It was also a pain in my ass because my date inevitably ruined the movie. They never let me enjoy the damn thing, always trying to use the opportunity to capture my attention. But with Morgan—just as with everything else—the experience was different. Better.

  I paid as much attention to her enjoyment of the movie as I did to what was happening on the screen. I smiled at her laughter. Wiped away her tears. Enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding her hand and kissing the top of her head as she rested it on my shoulder. It didn’t matter that I’d already seen Casablanca several times; it was the most fun I’d ever had watching a movie—and that included seeing myself on the big screen the first time.

  “That movie gets me every time,” she sighed as I helped her into the passenger seat of my car afterward.

  “I figured it must since you cried like a baby,” I teased before shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side to slide in.

  Morgan waited until I pulled away from the curb to respond. “Try to deny it all you want, but I could swear I saw a suspicious-looking glint in your eye at the end there too.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I denied with a wink.

  “Uh-huh. Sure, you don’t,” she laughed. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t find you any less masculine for crying. I mean, that movie. Gah! I don’t know how anyone could hold back tears; it’s so beautifully heartbreaking. And that ending is absolutely brilliant with the way they hint at a new beginning.”

  We discussed our favorite movies during the drive to her condo, and I was blown away by her insight. Morgan wasn’t just another pretty face. Being smart, gorgeous, funny, and kind made her an anomaly in Hollywood. I’d have to be a fool to let her get away from me, and nobody had ever accused me of that.

  “Getting on my plane tomorrow is going to be hard as fuck,” I admitted as I walked her to her door.

  “Why? Are you not excited about the project?”

  “The project isn’t the problem.”

  Morgan paused in front of her door and turned to look up at me, her head cocked to the side while concerned blue eyes scanned my face. “Then what is?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” She gasped as I pulled her into my arms.

  “Yeah, I have a feeling that being away from you will be tough since I’ve quickly become addicted to spending time with you.”

  “Oh!” Her plump lips formed a perfect O.

  I bent my head low, and growled, “Kiss me.”

  “As if it were the last time?”

  “That might have been a great line in Casablanca, but there isn’t a chance in hell of this being the last time we kiss,” I swore. “I’m leaving for Georgia to shoot a movie tomorrow. Not heading off to West Africa to join the Free French Army.”

  “Any guy who books a private theater to watch one of my favorite movies with me and then follows it up by showing he paid close attention to it deserves as many kisses as he wants.”

  “There better not be any other guys who fit that description when I’m gone,” I warned before capturing her mouth in a deep kiss—one that would have to tide both of us over for the next month.

  Eleven

  Morgan

  I was exhausted from another day of pre-Oscar events. I’d long dreamed of being nominated, so, of course, I was over-the-moon happy about it, but I was also learning just how much work went into it all. The public events, luncheons, dinner parties, photo shoots, and interviews were more than a full-time job. I was willing to bet people who planned inaugurations did less work. I was so wrung out it was almost a form of torture to know there were still eight more days until the actual event.

  Letting myself into the condo, I frowned when I realize Allie wasn’t home. I was hoping we’d catch a few more episodes in our True Blood marathon. Glancing at my watch, I noted it was dinnertime, which likely meant she was at her parents eating a home-cooked meal. I grumbled with envy as I headed into the kitchen and put water in a cup of macaroni and cheese. My parents had retired to Florida, which meant I didn’t get a lot of home cooking anymore. As supportive as they were of me, they hated Los Angeles and pulled out at the first available opportunity. I got it, even though I didn’t like it.

  Once I had my dinner in the microwave, I reclined against the counter and pulled out my cell phone to play Mahjong. I’d done about a dozen tiles when my phone started ringing. Seeing it was Gage, I smiled as I slid my finger across the screen and brought it to my ear.

  “Hey.”

  “Were you trying to torture me with the outfit you wore today?”

  I bit my lip and snorted out a laugh when I looked down.

  “What am I wearing?” I challenged.

  “A sexy black dress that shows off your perfect ass to maximum effect. I just about hit the damn floor when I saw it.”

  “Are you stalking me now?” I teased.

  “I set you as a Google alert,” he answered. “Every time you do anything around town, I get a notification.”

  It was probably silly that I was made giddy when he said he’d set me as an alert, but it would’ve been impossible to keep the goofy smile from my face. “I’m going to have to do the same for you.”

  He laughed. “Prepare for lots of pictures of me in jeans, jeans, and fucking jeans.”

  I was glad we were on the phone since it meant he didn’t see the way I fanned myself. I was all about Gage in jeans. That said, I was also into him in a tuxedo or suit . . . or almost nothing at all. Sheesh. Maybe I was the stalker. I’d spent my fair share of time on the internet in the previous days looking at photos of him to qualify. I felt myself blush as I thought of the photos where he’d bee
n shirtless.

  I cleared my throat and forced thoughts of his hotness away. “Now that I know you’re paying attention I’ll try hard to dress sexier,” I teased. “Today was boring since it was just a little black dress. It’s nothing to write home about.”

  His chuckle made me smile. “You’re wearing it, beautiful, which means it’s sexy as hell and the shoes make me want to do bad, bad things to you.”

  The sensual tone of his voice made my stomach flip-flop. “What kind of bad things?” I asked softly.

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he rasped. “For now, all you need to know is that being stuck several thousand miles away from you is killing me.”

  I could feel myself blush as a smile spread across my face. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, beautiful. This separation is shit.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly. The timing was terrible. We were starting something special, and I wanted to be with him, not separated by however many miles.

  “It is, but since we can’t do anything about it . . . let’s talk about something happier while I eat,” I said as I pulled my mac ’n’ cheese from the microwave. Setting it down on the counter, I propped the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I could have my hands free to open the packet of powdered cheese and dump it into the cup. “How’s work?” I asked as I stirred.

  There was a soft rustling sound as he yawned. “Well, I’m already in bed if that answers your question. My call time this morning was four thirty, and we went until seven tonight. I’m so tired I can barely think.”

  “I’m touched that you called even though you’re exhausted,” I told him.

  “You’re the best part of my day,” he said, his voice husky. “You have no idea how badly I wish I could be with you right now.”

  I loved how direct he was. If he thought it, he said it. I decided to take a page out of his book. “I wish that, too,” I admitted.

  “What’re you doing tomorrow night around five your time?” he asked.

  I did a quick mental calculation of my schedule. “Shockingly, I’m not busy. I’ve got interviews booked starting early tomorrow morning. Then I’m having a late lunch with Gloria. After that, I’m done for the day.

  “You and me. Dinner. Tomorrow night.”

  I furrowed my brow. “You’re several thousand miles away,” I reminded him.

  “True, but thanks to technology, there’s no reason we can’t eat together. We can Skype and eat.”

  “Is Skype and eat a euphemism for getting me naked?” I asked, not entirely opposed to the idea.

  He let out a low growl. “No, beautiful. The first time I see you naked won’t be through a computer. It’ll be live and in person, where I can touch and taste every delectable inch of you. Tomorrow night is just dinner. You with me?”

  The visual his words sent a wave of heat throughout my body. It wasn’t a question of if we’d ever be naked together—it was a question of when.

  “I’m with you,” I answered, my voice breathy.

  “I’m glad, baby.”

  “Me, too,” I answered.

  “I’m going to set everything up for tomorrow. You don’t have to do anything at all. I’ll have the food delivered right at five.”

  “You’re just a teeny-tiny bit of a control freak,” I teased.

  “I think you mean a romantic,” he countered.

  I would never argue that. “You are,” I assured him. “So much so that it blows my mind. You’re . . .”

  “I’m?” he prodded.

  “Sweeping me off my feet,” I murmured.

  “Good, because that’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “Well, you’re succeeding.”

  “Just you wait until tomorrow night,” he teased.

  I’d be counting down the hours.

  Twelve

  Gage

  I’d originally planned to do something simple for my Skype dinner with Morgan, just in case the timing got fucked on either of our ends. But hearing Morgan admit that I was sweeping her off her feet inspired me to go all out. I wasn’t going to let the distance between us slow down the progress I’d made with her. I’d finally found a woman who was worth earning, and that was damn well what I was going to do.

  I ditched my plan to order a pizza for each of us and went with tacos instead. They were both on the list of her favorite foods that she’d rattled off the day after the Globes when I’d tracked her down at her condo, but tacos were the more impressive choice—especially since I knew about this little place on the beach that served the best tacos in town. It was another cheap meal, but Morgan had already proven to me that she didn’t give a damn if I spent ten bucks or a thousand. She was happy either way, and it was part of what made her special.

  I’d started to get a little nervous when the director kept having us reshoot one of the fight scenes with particularly difficult choreography. I’d expected to be done by seven, but the clock had edged past that on our thirtieth take. Luckily, we’d finally given him what he was looking for forty-five minutes later, and he’d called it a day. I’d hauled ass to my trailer, stripped out of my costume, and hopped in and out of the shower just in time to towel off and throw on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before it was time for my virtual date with Morgan.

  While I’d been in the bathroom, Shawn had dropped off my tacos and a couple of ice-cold Tecates. He’d also set up my laptop so all I had to do was hit the video icon to start the call with Morgan. Barely thirty seconds later, her image popped up on the screen. She was a sight for sore eyes with her hair spilling down her back in waves and smiling so big that her bright blue eyes crinkled at the edges. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “You have perfect timing. Some guy dropped this off like a minute ago.” She picked up a brown paper bag to show it to me. “It would’ve seemed super sketchy if I hadn’t known you were the one who sent it.”

  “Yeah, the packaging might not be fancy, but you’re going to love what’s inside.”

  “Well, then. I guess I’d better dig in and see what you’ve got in store for me this time.” I unwrapped my first taco while she opened the bag and pulled out eight tacos and a small, wrapped box.

  “Enough tacos to feed Allie too and a present?” Her lips parted in surprise, and her tongue peeked out for a second to swipe the bottom one. I was grateful for the close-up shot of the camera on my laptop because I was able to adjust my dick without her seeing it. “How in the heck did you manage all of this?”

  “I’ve got connections, and Shawn isn’t afraid to use them.”

  She burst into delighted laughter before sighing, “Awww, man. The tag says that I’m not supposed to open it until you tell me to.”

  Her lips turned down in a slight pout, and she widened her eyes before blinking slowly. “There’s no need for the puppy dog look. I’m not going to make you wait too long.”

  “Then I’ll try to be patient,” she promised as she dug through the tacos to find the one she wanted to try first. “I guess it’s an extra good thing that you sent over a ton of delicious food because it should be enough to distract me. For a little while, anyway.”

  I’d just taken a bite of one of my tacos and had to fight back my laughter so I didn’t spit my food out. After I swallowed it down, I explained, “They’re from my favorite taco place. I wasn’t sure which kind you’d like best, so I just ordered one of everything. That way, when I get the chance to take you there myself, you’ll know what you want to get.”

  “I really like how you think,” she complimented me before taking a bite of the shredded beef taco. We talked about how our days had gone while I polished off all of my meal and Morgan got through about half of hers.

  Right after she put the leftovers in the fridge, Morgan’s bright blue eyes twinkled as she picked up the wrapped box and shook it at the camera. “Does that mean I finally get to open this?”

  “You’re so fucking cute when you’re being impatient.” So much so that I was tempted to tell her she had to
wait until we talked again tomorrow, but I figured that’d be just plain cruel since her curiosity was piqued and I’d already told her I wouldn’t make her wait too long.

  “That’d better be your way of saying yes,” she warned. Then she gave the gift another rattle for good measure, making me chuckle.

  “It is, baby,” I confirmed with a grin. “Go ahead and open it.”

  Morgan tore into the paper like a savage, making me grin since I figured she’d be the kind of woman who was careful not to rip it. Once she got it open, she lifted the small slip of paper out of the box. Her brow wrinkled in confusion, and her gaze darted from the short note to my face. “I don’t get it. Why do you want me to call this number when I have at least twenty-four hours to spare?”

  “Because I don’t want to wait an entire fucking month before I see you in person again,” I explained, running my hand through my hair in frustration. “But you know how it is when you’re in the middle of filming. I can’t leave Georgia, so I was hoping you could fly out here instead.”

  She glanced down at the note again and tilted her head to the side. A lock of dark hair spilled over her shoulder and came to rest right on top of one of her perfect tits, making my dick press against my zipper. No doubt about it, I was going to have to stroke one out after I got off Skype with her. Not that it came as a surprise since my hand had been getting more action since I’d met Morgan than it had back when I’d been a teenager. Just looking at her or hearing her voice got me hard.

  “I’d like to see you, too,” she admitted softly, pulling me out of my thoughts about how I was going to take care of my hard-on. “So I guess I’ll check my schedule and give your travel agent a call.”

  “I guess I was a little too mysterious with the number,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “It’s for the plane service I use. They have a lot of celebrity clients, so they’re discreet. I’m a damn good customer of theirs, and they’re not going to risk my business for the payout they’d get for going to the press about us. Shawn has it all set up so you can hop on a jet anytime. They’ll get you here safe and sound without anyone knowing about it.”