Falling for the Star: A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance Page 3

  “Ponytail! Come over here.”

  Skye

  Me? Did he mean me?

  I looked around, and the script supervisor, Janice, gestured for me to go out there. I’d been thrilled to work with Janice again today—I was beginning to think I wouldn’t last more than a day in any department. But checking for continuity between takes was one thing. This—whatever this was—was different.

  Cautiously, almost as if I thought there were landmines hidden in the ground, I made my way over to Grayson and Tessa. Grayson smiled his trademark crooked grin, the one that made panties dampen in movie theaters all over the world. But Tessa glared at me. Especially when he dismissed her.

  “Just watch,” he said, waving his hand to indicate she should stand aside. “I’ll show you what I mean.”

  Hesitantly, I stopped in front of him, looking up at him for the second time in my life. He was tall. So tall that it made my five-feet-eight inches feel petite. I wasn’t used to that.

  “What’s your name?”

  “S—Sk—Skye.”

  For a moment, those gorgeous green eyes rolled upward. “I’m guessing your mom picked that. No way Derrick would think that far outside of the box.” Behind him, Tessa glared daggers at me, apparently for the audacity of having a father who’d had friends in college.

  “Okay, Skye, we’re going to try a little experiment here. Close your eyes.”

  What? If anything, his words made my eyes open wider as I looked around the set. Everyone was staring at us. At me.

  “Forget them,” Grayson said, taking half a step closer. “Just close your eyes and concentrate on my voice.”

  “Okay,” I said quietly. But when I shut my eyes, I could still see him. See the way he looked as he saved the day in countless movies. Plus we were so close I could feel the heat from his body. Or maybe it was heat from my body when I thought about him. Either way—there was enough heat radiating from me that Bob from the lighting department might need to step in to keep me from catching on fire again.

  “Just focus on my voice. Keep your mind blank,” Grayson said. I wondered if he’d seen the redness in my cheeks.

  “Imagine this, Skye. You’re frightened. You’re trapped. You’ve been kidnapped and thrown in the trunk of a car.” His voice had become husky. Soft. I had to strain to hear him, but I didn’t want to miss a word. “Think about how that would feel. How terrified you’d be. You’re not sure what’s going to happen to you. You don’t know what those men are going to do to you.”

  His words were putting me into a trance. But not a peaceful one. I felt edgy, like I was entering fight or flight mode. His voice was mesmerizing and impossible to ignore.

  “Suddenly, you’re smashed against the top of the trunk. The car flips over. There’s the sound of metal twisting. Then you’re thrown free. You fly through the air but land softly in some bushes. You’re thrilled to be alive, but worried that at any minute, men will emerge from the wreckage and capture you again. You try to back away, but you’re so scared.”

  My breathing was faster now, and I leaned toward him, my body yearning to hear what he said next. I felt like he’d put a spell on me, but I didn’t want it to end.

  “Then you see the men climb out. Looking for you. A hand clamps over your mouth.” Just at the moment he said that, his hand did cover my mouth and I nearly screamed against it. My eyes flew open, and I saw the others standing around, listening as intently as I had been.

  My view shifted as Grayson pulled me toward him, spinning me around in the process. He pressed me against him, my back to his front, and he bent his head to whisper in my ear. “Keep your eyes closed. Don’t think, just react. You’re doing great.”

  How could I not think when I could feel his long, hard body behind me? The heat from his skin nearly burned through his clothes and mine. He was all muscle. All hardness. All strength… and all man.

  “I pull you back. I take you away from those men. And when we’re safely away, you turn to thank me… but then you see who I am. John Wolfe. Formerly a national hero, currently suspected of murdering three of the President’s men. You’re scared again. You don’t trust me, but you know you need me. You won’t survive without me.”

  Grayson’s hand was on my shoulder now, not over my mouth, but I could still feel every inch of him behind me.

  “Now you’re on the run with a man who might be a killer. A man who holds your life in his hands. A man you fear—but also crave.” He spins me around, gentler this time, and I keep my eyes closed, knowing that’s what he wanted.

  “A man who’s saved you, again and again. A man who’s been rough but has also shown compassion. A man you can’t stop thinking about. He’s become your whole world. And you’re scared… and tired… and filthy. You’ve hit rock bottom. And the only direction left is up. So you take a chance.” His hands clutched my shoulders, his face so near I could feel wisps of coffee-scented breath tickle my cheeks. It felt like he and I were the only people around for miles.

  “So you make yourself be brave. You’ve seen the way I look at you. The way my eyes follow you around the campsite. You say something brazen, some flirty, throw-away line. Your words are cheap, but your mind, your soul, is full of hope. Hope that I’m the good man I say I am, and not the murderer they think I am. And hope that I want you, too.”

  His voice grew softer, even more hypnotic. “You’re putting everything you have on the line. Your safety. Your future. Your heart. And then you stand there in front of me, waiting. Dying to know if you’ve chosen wisely. Pleading with me to end your suspense, to reveal my true nature to you in the truest form of communication men and women can share—a kiss.”

  I lifted my face as I felt him lean in. He was so close. His words were so soft only I could hear them. He was talking to me and me alone. I parted my lips. I’d made my choice and I wanted him. Wanted his kiss. No matter what happened after, I wanted this.

  “Like that,” he said, an odd air of finality in his tone.

  Motionless, I waited to feel his lips on mine. I had no idea how I’d gotten here, but I was in front of him, giving myself to him. I was ready to receive whatever he wanted to share with me. But then his hands left my shoulders. And the warmth from his body faded as he stepped back.

  “Just like that,” he said again, louder this time and my eyes flew open. He was staring at me. Everyone was.

  “That combination of longing. Hope. Apprehension. That’s exactly what the heroine is feeling in this scene.”

  What.

  Was.

  Happening?

  The cast, the crew… everyone was looking at me. Except Tessa. She was watching him. And now he was talking to her, ignoring me entirely. “Did you see her face? Do you think you can capture that play of emotions?”

  My feet were moving backwards before my brain caught up. This had been… he’d done that as part of an acting lesson. He’d made me feel all those things so he could use me as a visual aid for Tessa.

  “Thanks, PT,” he called over his shoulder, not even looking as I continued to back away. My ankle connected with something behind me, and I would have fallen except then Janice was there, her steadying hand on my arm, her light blue eyes looking at me with concern.

  “Let’s get you something to drink.”

  “A drink?” I echoed. I didn’t drink, but it suddenly seemed like a hell of a good time to start.

  “I meant water,” she said. “But I can see why you’d need one after that.”

  “You—you felt it, too?” I couldn’t even begin to describe what I meant by “it” but I felt certain she’d understand.

  “We all feel that around him, honey. But he turned it on for you. You got the full force of it. That’s enough to knock any woman off her feet for quite some time. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

  “Okay,” I said, following her past a variety of crew members, all staring at me.

  I still didn’t quite understand how I’d gone from being in Grayson James’s arms to stumbling along in the dirt toward toward the snack tent, but I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. Involuntarily, I giggled. Instead of a Greyhound bus, it was a Grayson bus. He’d done this to me. He’d made me feel those things—and then he’d taken it all away.

  Suddenly my slightly hysterical laughter sounded a bit more like sobs.

  Skye

  Turns out that the way I’d felt Friday night when I got back to the apartment was just a dress rehearsal for how bad I felt tonight. Ha ha… ‘dress rehearsal.’ Now I was even starting to think in terms of show business.

  Which begged the question, what the hell I was doing here this summer. No one needed me on the set. They just put up with me because my dad had called in a favor to Grayson. The only reason they’d want to keep me around now is so that everyone could gawk and stare at the naive girl who’d thought that Grayson was going to kiss her. How stupid could I have been? Of course he was trying to prove a point to Tessa. Famous movie stars did not kiss interns on movie sets. Especially not in front of the entire cast and crew.

  But the way he’d spoken to me, it was like we’d been the only ones there. Like he was speaking directly to me. God, I’d been stupid. He was an actor. It was his job to make people believe him. I hadn’t thought, I’d just reacted. Responded. My body had responded to his words and my brain had shut off. I was such an idiot.

  “You’re not an idiot,” Janice said when she called me after dinner. She said she’d gotten my number from the personnel office. And though I’d claimed that I was fine, just embarrassed, she insisted on meeting me at a coffee shop a few blocks down from the apartment.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I said, once we had drinks and scones and were seated in a corner booth.

  “I wanted to make su
re you were okay. I heard your first week was tough, but that thing that jackass did to you today was pretty fucked up.”

  I agreed with her, but after years of worshiping Grayson James, I couldn’t help defending him. “He was just trying to make the movie better.”

  “That’s what he said when I chewed him out earlier tonight.”

  “You spoke to him?” I said, setting down the fork I’d been absently tapping against the table.

  “Yes.”

  “About me?”

  “About what he did with you on set, yes.”

  “And what did he say?” I suddenly felt ridiculous, like a student gossiping about boys with her friend, but I still wanted to know.

  “He agreed with me that he’d been an ass.”

  “You actually called him that to his face?”

  “Yep. We go way back. We’ve worked on at least half a dozen movies together.”

  I took a bite of scone just to keep myself from asking the next thing I was dying to know. But as soon as I swallowed the dry pastry, the words popped out. “What else did you talk about?”

  “I told him he owed you an apology.”

  “You did?” Were all script supervisors this brave or just her?

  “I did.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He agreed.”

  He had? Did that mean he was going to talk to me tomorrow? Somehow, that thought eclipsed all that had happened today. Yes, I was still humiliated, and mad too, but to talk to him again—that thought made my blood pump faster and my mood improve faster than chocolate did. “So… do you think he’s actually going to…”

  “I do,” she said.

  “Umm… but he might forget. How can you be sure?”

  “Because he’s right over there,” Janice said, a note of resignation in her voice. “After I chewed him out, he asked if he could join us.”

  Her words barely reached my ears because I was busy scanning the diner for Grayson. But I didn’t see him. There were a couple of groups at other booths, and there were three or four people at the counter, but none of them were Grayson. But then a man in an old army jacket with long, straggly gray hair sticking out from under a baseball cap headed our way. Despite the fact that it was dark out, he had on a pair of plastic sunglasses.

  As he neared us carrying two cups, I gasped. The glasses, hat, and wild hair may have hidden his face, but there was no mistaking that body. I would have recognized the sinewy, athletic way he walked even if I’d just woken up from a ten-year coma.

  Grayson James was about to join us at our booth.

  Grayson

  “Thanks, Janice,” I said, squeezing her hand as we switched places.

  “No problem,” she said, straightening up and swinging her purse over her shoulder. But then she leaned down and spoke directly in my ear. “If you mess with her like that again, I’ll cut your balls off.”

  Wincing, I smiled up at her as if she’d just announced I’d won an academy award. That was what being an actor meant. Projecting one thing while feeling something else entirely. And right now, I felt a combination of respect and fear toward one the few colleagues I considered to be a true friend.

  But once Janice was gone and I was left alone with this lovely young woman, her big brown eyes staring at me with shock, my predominant emotion was guilt.

  I took off my sunglasses and tucked them away in my pocket as I thought about what had happened today. That had been a shitty thing to do. My career depended on me being able to turn on the charm. But I’d learned when I was first starting out that if I wasn’t sincere, I could hurt people. I had before, and I wasn’t thrilled to realize after Janice’s call that I’d done it again today.

  Sure, I’d been trying to teach Tessa a thing or two. She wasn’t going to last long in this business if she gave such wooden performances with hollow emotions. Looks only got you so far in Hollywood. But I hadn’t been unaware of the effect I was having on Ponytail. I could have called anyone up there with me, and I’d chosen her.

  It was more than obvious she had a crush on me, and I did it anyway. Because part of me wanted to see how she’d respond. I mean, that was the whole point. Getting an honest, natural response. But again, I could have tried to get that with someone else. But deep down, I knew I’d wanted that reaction from her, especially. And that was fucked up. She was my friend’s daughter. And an intern on the set. I’d also learned years ago not to fuck interns. Or crew. Or co-stars. But rules were made to be broken, and I’d ignored quite a few in my time.

  Skye’s eyes were wide as she watched me, the cappuccino I’d set in front of her untouched on the table. I stared at her for a moment, her inquisitive brown eyes behind her sexy-librarian glasses. The strands of hair that had escaped her tight ponytail and now framed her face. That lickable sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose. She was adorable. Earnest, eager, and adorable. And I’d treated her like shit today.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” she said in what felt like an instant, knee-jerk reaction.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Of course you don’t,” she proclaimed in a forced, high-pitch voice that was nothing like the confident, clear voice she’d used today when giving Tessa her lines. “It was really amazing, like watching an acting masterclass. It was fun, I enjoyed getting to think like an actress. I knew it was all to make a point. I didn’t—I mean you didn’t… I mean… I…” She wound down, and I just stared at her.

  Tilting my head to the side, I let the gray hair of the ridiculous wig I wore as a disguise brush against my shoulder. I cocked an eyebrow at her and waited.

  “Yeah,” she finally said with a sigh. “I guess you do.”

  “I got a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and in an attempt to prove that all was forgiven, she took a sip of the drink I brought her. And then made an involuntary face that made me laugh.

  “Too strong?” I said.

  “Too something.” She really was lovely.

  “So tell me how your old man’s doing,” I said. Looking at this beautiful young woman sitting across from me, I was thinking more about her than my old friend, but it would be good to break the ice. And as she told me about her father’s law practice, which seemed to be doing well in a small-town kind of way, I couldn’t help feeling proud for my old pal. He’d made something of his life. He’d raised a beautiful daughter. A daughter I was currently having less than pure thoughts about.

  To keep my libido in check, I peppered her with other questions. ”How’d you know Tessa’s lines today?”

  Ponytail explained to me about her eidetic memory, and I spent a fun few minutes quizzing her on various parts of the script. Unbelievable since she’d only laid eyes on it once a week ago, but she seemed to know the whole thing. “What do I say to my leading lady after the car explosion?” I asked, even though she’d gotten everything else right.

  “‘If you total one more car, I’m going to take you over my knee and sp—’” she stopped dead and flushed, her mind apparently catching up with the words she’d just rattled off. And of course I’d chosen that quote just to witness her reaction, that sexy little hitch in her voice. But then another pang of guilt hit me. Hadn’t I already embarrassed her enough for today? Even if she looked adorable when she blushed. And even if the look of longing on her face today had been one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Again.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said. “Again.”

  “So, PT, can I ask you something?”

  Unexpectedly, she giggled. “It’s a little late to be asking for permission.”

  “Good point.” I’d already asked her a dozen questions.

  “Maybe I should ask you some,” she said, and I grinned. She was opening up a little, that was good. Spreading my hands outward, I nodded, indicating that she could ask whatever she liked.