Falling for the Star: A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance Read online

  Falling for the Star

  Mia Madison

  Contents

  1. Skye

  2. Skye

  3. Skye

  4. Skye

  5. Skye

  6. Grayson

  7. Skye

  8. Skye

  9. Grayson

  10. Skye

  11. Grayson

  12. Skye

  13. Skye

  14. Skye

  15. Grayson

  16. Skye

  17. Skye

  18. Grayson

  19. Skye

  20. Skye

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Mia Madison

  Copyright © 2017 by Mia Madison

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  Skye

  Monday

  “Sorry!” I stepped away from the rack of costumes I’d almost knocked over only to hear a crashing noise behind me. Turning, I picked up a pair of scissors from the floor. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “It’s okay,” Betty, the assistant from the wardrobe department, said, sounding as if she meant the opposite. She took the hat from me and dusted it off. “Did you finish cataloging the clothes used in the last shoot?”

  “Yes,” I said, handing her my clipboard.

  She looked it over and then nodded. “At least you got that part right. Nice work, Sue.”

  “It’s Skye.” I could almost predict, word for word, the conversation that would come next.

  “What?” She blinked at me absently.

  “My name is Skye. Skye Larson.”

  “Really?”

  I sighed. People expected a girl with a name like ‘Skye’ to be a free spirit. A lovely young woman, perhaps with elfin features and a spring in her step. But I was just me. If asked, my classmates at the university would probably describe me as quiet and bookish.

  And I didn’t look the part, either. I was hopeless with makeup and hairstyles, so I almost always wore my chestnut brown hair back in a high ponytail. And my glasses added to the quiet and bookish description. People named Skye were not supposed to be this nearsighted.

  “Well, Skye, let’s see about your next task.” Betty led me to the back of the wardrobe room, a temporary structure since this portion of the movie was being filmed in the woods. Though the room held hundreds of costumes, it was apparently only a small fraction of the wardrobe department back at the studio. But I’d never been there. This was the first day of the first week of my summer internship.

  She zigged and zagged through rows of clothes, pausing only when she realized I’d stopped in front of a rack of leather jackets.

  Reverently, I touched the purposefully scuffed black leather. “Are these… are these for Grayson James?”

  A touch impatiently, she came back and looked at a tag inside the jacket. “This one is, yes.”

  Wow. Grayson James had worn this. Or would wear this. His bulging biceps would be in this very sleeve. His ripped pecs and rock hard abs would look great in such soft and supple leather.

  “Sue?”

  Reluctantly, I let go of the sleeve I’d been caressing. But when I turned to go, the edge of the jacket somehow got hooked under my arm. And when I stepped forward, it jerked on the hanger and then fell the floor. The dusty, dirty floor. The wardrobe woman and I stared at the crumpled up pile of leather that had probably cost at least half the price of my college tuition last semester.

  “Maybe wardrobe is not the best department for you to start in,” the woman said.

  Mumbling yet another apology, I nodded.

  Skye

  Tuesday

  “Lighting is extremely underrated. It can make or break a movie,” the man who’d been introduced to me as Bob said. “You’d think, since we’re shooting outdoors, it wouldn’t matter so much, but it does. If you think Mr. James would look as good under natural light, you’d be sadly mistaken.”

  I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a snort. As if Grayson James could ever look bad. He’d been the man of my dreams for as long as I could remember. No surprise there—he was pretty much the man of every woman’s dreams. I read everything I could about him, looked at every picture online and in the newspapers. He didn’t look bad—ever.

  “A lot of it is math. Angles. Are you good with numbers?”

  “Not bad,” I said, and it was true. I did well in my math classes at the university, they just didn’t interest me all that much.

  “Well, you’re going to use it today. We’re setting up for a campfire scene. Gotta get the lighting right or it’ll throw weird shadows on the actors’ faces.”

  “Are they shooting it tonight?” Maybe that meant I’d get to see Grayson. It was a big movie set with tents, trailers, and cars everywhere. I’d seen Grayson twice so far, both times at a distance. Once getting out of his trailer and once talking with a man who looked to be the director. Or maybe ‘a’ director. I’d read that there were more than one.

  “God no. This scene won’t be filmed for days, but it’ll take us that long to figure out the placements. This’ll be the first of many trial runs. Go light the fire so we can get a reading on the brightness.”

  He handed me a lighter and pointed toward a collection of logs in the middle of a circle of rocks a few feet away. I’d never really been the outsdoorsy type, but how hard could it be?

  A few minutes later, a pathetic stream of smoke issued from the one log I’d been able to get lit, and I’d stubbed my toe on one of the rocks around the fire pit which were no longer in a nice, neat circle. Bob actually came over and kicked me. “Ouch!”

  “There was a spark on your jeans.” He said testily, sounding as if he’d debated over whether or not to put it out.

  “Thanks,” I said, hobbling over and sinking down onto a nearby cart, feeling a crunch underneath me.

  “My meter!” Bob squeaked as I hopped up, apologizing profusely.

  He examined the crushed instrument and then looked up at me. “Maybe we’d better see about finding another department for you.”

  Skye

  Wednesday

  “You’re a lucky girl,” Carol said. “All the interns want to be in makeup, but they almost never get to. Usually they start in electrical or something boring. You must be so excited!”

  “I am,” I said, to the young woman with the fuchsia hair, bright pink eyeliner, and tattoos up and down her arms. I smiled at her, she seemed nice enough, but I was already wondering how I might screw this up. Truthfully, I’d never worn much makeup. Each morning I smeared moisturizer on my face, dusted on some powder, put my hair up in an elastic, and I was ready to go. But judging from the shelves and containers in Carol’s trailer, I was in over my ponytailed head. “But I don’t really know much about cosmetics.”

  “That’s okay. Your main job is to take notes on which shades I use so that we can recreate the same look several days in a row.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling enormously relieved. “I can definitely do that, as long as you tell me what the name of all the things are. I—”

  The door to the trailer swung inward, and a girl my age or a year or two
older burst in. Her blonde hair was in curlers. “Carol!”

  “Tessa!” Carol rushed toward the young woman and hugged her while I gaped in awe. This was Tessa Spring, the lead actress in the film. The actress who would get to kiss and make love to Grayson James’s character according to the script I’d swiped and read Monday evening.

  “Didn’t expect to see you in here,” Carol said. “You have your own team of stylists.”

  “They’re all idiots,” Tessa said, her perfect button nose wrinkling in disgust. “I need you to do my eyes so that they really pop. I’ve got scenes with Grayson all afternoon.”

  “Yum,” Carol said. “I’m going to make you look so good he’ll want to tear your clothes off.”

  “We’re not filming that until next week,” Tessa said with a giggle. “This week, I just want to drive him wild with lust. Oh, I mean my character, of course.”

  Then they both giggled, and I picked up a pot of what looked like white paint and squeezed it with all my strength. Grayson James was one of the most talented actors alive. He wasn’t just someone to drool over. Well, okay, he was very drool-worthy, but he was more than that. He gave millions to charity. He’d spoken up about equal pay for male and female actors. He’d been in my dreams every night for as long as I could remember. Wait—maybe that last one was a bit off topic.

  “I just hate that it’s supposed to happen outside,” Tessa was saying. “Why can’t they just decide to go to a luxury hotel?”

  “Because they’re on the run from the Gambino gang,” I said without thinking.

  “Who’s that?” Tessa glanced over at me as Carol applied cream to her face.

  “That’s Skye. She’s our new intern.”

  “Oh, hi.” Tessa said as if she’d just noticed me for the first time. But it wasn’t a big trailer—she had to have seen more before. “Welcome.”

  “Thanks,” I said, but Tessa had already turned back to Carol.

  “I just hope it doesn’t rain on Monday. Can you imagine turning up for work thinking you’re going to kiss THE Grayson James and then find out shooting’s been cancelled? What’s the weather supposed to be like?”

  My mouth opened automatically. “High of seventy-eight degrees. Sunny in the morning, partially cloudy in the afternoon. Ten percent chance of rain.”

  Both Tessa and Carol stared at me. “I… I have a good memory.” That was putting it mildly, but I knew that if I said I had an eidetic memory, commonly referred to as a photographic memory, they’d stare even more.

  Carol pursed her lips and then spoke. “Skye, why don’t you mix up the foundation I like to use for Tessa? Take that pot… no, the one next to it. Drop in four drops of that beige and then mix it up.”

  “Sure,” I said. That didn’t sound too hard. But I accidentally got a glob of white cream on the table. Hastily, I grabbed a napkin and dabbed at it. Once that was clean, I wadded up the tissue and located a small trashcan behind the table. I tossed it in, but missed. Bending down, I plucked it off the ground at the same time Tessa shrieked.

  “She’s got her hair in the foundation. Ugh, her ponytail is completely in it. Gross!”

  Hastily, I straightened up, causing my ponytail to flip over my shoulder. Beige makeup flew in an arc and splattered a Wizard of Oz poster. Judging by the look on Carol’s face, it was a prized possession. I mumbled an apology to the makeup artist, but it was Tessa who spoke.

  “Please tell me you’re going to fire her.”

  Carol looked like she wanted to, but she shook her head.

  “Why not?” Tessa demanded, and Carol bent her head and whispered in Tessa’s ear. From the blonde’s widening eyes, I could guess what Carol was telling her. That even though I’d never exchanged a syllable with the man, Grayson James had gotten me this internship. Or more like, my father had. He and Grayson had been fraternity brothers in college. They hadn’t gotten together in person in years, but still, one phone call from my dad had made Grayson pull some strings to get me this summer position. They’d been best friends when they were students.

  Tessa was still staring at me, possibly wondering how someone like me could have any connection with Grayson James. But the truth was, I didn’t. My father did, but Grayson couldn’t pick me out of a lineup if someone offered him a million bucks. Not that he needed a million bucks—he was one of the highest paid actors in Hollywood.

  “Skye, why don’t you go clean yourself up,” Carol said. “And when you’re done, maybe get something to eat. In fact—why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? And tomorrow we’ll find a different department for you to try.”

  Dejected, I opened the trailer door. As I left, I heard Carol say, “Tomorrow will be her fourth department in four days. That’s got to be a record.”

  “Family connections or not, she won’t last a week.” Tessa replied.

  Skye

  Thursday

  The next morning I could barely pull myself out of bed. What was the point? I’d just screw up something else today. I wasn’t normally this much of a klutz. Well… okay, I did have my fair share of daily catastrophes, but it wasn’t normally as bad as it had been this week. No question I was an introvert. The movie studio was vibrant and exciting, but all those people dashing every which way doing all sorts of different things made me nervous. At school, I spent a lot of time in the library where it was quiet.

  Still, I knew I was lucky to have this position. Angel, my roommate, thought it was the most amazing job ever. I was sharing her tiny apartment this summer after I’d answered an ad she posted online. Angel was currently a waitress, but she wanted to be an actress and went to auditions all the time. She was in awe of my spending my summer with a film crew. She peppered me with endless questions about Grayson James.

  “I’m probably going to see him today,” I finally admitted, sheepishly, as we hovered over a pot of coffee in the microscopic kitchen.

  “You are?” Angel squealed. “That’s awesome! That’s great! That means you have to change.”

  “Why?” I looked down at my white tank top and jeans. Half the production crew dressed similarly.

  “Those are mom jeans,” Angel said, as if it should be obvious.

  “No, they’re mine. My mom passed away a few—”

  “That means they’re high-waisted,” she interrupted. And then she marched me into our shared bedroom and made me change.

  “So that’s it?” I said to Mike.

  “That’s it. Just hang out here and assist the camera crew. Coffee, water, carrying equipment—anything they need. There’ll be a lot of downtime, but just stick close by.”

  “I can do that,” I said with a smile. Plus, it meant I’d be on hand when the actors and stunt men came out to film their next scene. Today they were filming a fight. Grayson’s character, John Wolfe, was being ambushed by four bad guys from the mafia family tracking him, and he takes them all down. I knew from what I read about filming that this would be a long day. Even though they’d practiced the fight scene many times, the actual filming would involve lots of retakes and swapping out of the main actors and their stunt doubles.

  The morning passed by quickly enough. The people on the camera crew mostly ignored me but they always said thank you when I brought them things. And then came the moment I’d been waiting for… Grayson stepped onto the set. Holy god.

  There wasn’t anything for me to do, so I hunkered down on the bottom step of a nearby trailer and watched. Stared. Memorized every detail.

  He was wearing boots, scuffed black jeans, and a green/gray flannel shirt over a white undershirt. Since his character had been in the woods for days at this point, he had a short, sexy beard that accentuated his strong jawline. Even from here, I could see his piercing green eyes framed by waves of dark hair sprinkled with just a little gray at his sideburns. On women, that kind of graying aged them. On him, it made him look hot as hell.

  Grayson’s official Hollywood bio said that he was thirty-eight. He’d been making movies for sixt
een years, and he’d been at the top of his game for the last decade. How on earth was I sitting a mere twenty feet from a man like him? But I didn’t want to question it—I just wanted to enjoy it.

  Hours passed with little call for me to do much. And with little call for Grayson to do much, either. Mostly, he just stood there, drinking coffee and chatting with the bad guys. Or the actors who played the bad guys. But twice so far he’d gotten to throw fake punches and dodge the bad guys’ fists as the camera crew shot close-ups. I stared so hard during those parts I’m pretty sure my glasses fogged up.

  Just before four, they put Grayson in again. This time, they filmed him running into the clearing, hopping over logs and then ducking behind a fallen tree. They must have had him run in thirty times before they were satisfied. Each time I saw him place one hand on the log and swing his legs over it, my heart skipped a beat. He was so athletic. So strong. No wonder he was America’s favorite leading man. He sure was my favorite.

  Finally, they filmed him fighting again. Mesmerized, I watched as he crouched behind the fallen log. When Bad Guy #1 cautiously peered over the massive log, Grayson popped up and flipped him over onto his back. There was a mat on the ground, but it was still an impressive move. They filmed that a few times, and then they filmed Grayson taking out Bad Guy #2 with one massive punch. It didn’t connect, but it sure looked real.

  On my feet now, I drifted closer to the edge of the clearing, being careful to keep out of the camera crew’s way. Grayson’s next move was to spring back over the log and meet Bad Guy #3’s attack. No matter how many times he swung his leg over the log and landed on his feet with his fists raised, the director made him do it again. But Grayson was game. He was a big star but he wasn’t a spoiled, pampered celebrity. If the director asked him to do something twenty times, he did it.