Chapter One
Tom
I can’t decide why the air feels so suffocating in here. Their bodies haven’t even tangled together yet, which might at least give the window a reason to fog up. I adjust the lace bra on Natalie, take a step back, and give my work a once-over. A dark-skinned, full-figured woman is standing in front of me. I don’t say it out loud, but I genuinely like that this movie, for once, isn’t about some size-zero waif, but lets me look at a healthy, everyday body. Her panties and the top piece I just fixed are perfect.
“How do you like it?” I ask as I lead her over to the mirror.
She looks herself over.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this attractive before,” she says after a thoughtful moment.
We turn toward the director, who is sitting there on his “throne,” legs crossed, one hand resting on the armrest while he rubs his chin.
“It’ll do.”
In Seth’s language, that means perfect.
Natalie turns back to me one more time and thanks me for my work.
“I think you could conquer anyone in this little outfit,” I whisper to her. “Even him.”
Speak of the devil. Kaz Wolf steps out of the bathroom, still fully dressed. At least I don’t have to deal with him. That blessed task belongs to Sarah. Since I consider my part of the job done, I turn and start heading out. Sarah rushes over to me in a panic, her gray curls bouncing all over the place, desperation written across her face. For a second, she pulls the phone away from her ear.
“Matt,” she says, “twisted his ankle playing volleyball. Please, I have to go and see how bad it is. They said they didn’t take him to the hospital, but I definitely want a doctor to look at it, and I want to take him to urgent care myself,” she rattles off.
Matt is Sarah’s only child. Typical mama’s boy. But despite her occasionally irritating personality, I like Sarah. I nod.
“Of course, go. I’ll take over your part.”
She pulls me into a quick hug.
“I owe you one, Tom, and this time I won’t forget.”
She’s gasping for air.
I laugh despite myself. She already owes me plenty, and she knows it too. Maybe one day she’ll bring the entire Starbucks breakfast sandwich selection along with her morning coffee, tray, basket, and all. She scurries over to the director too, who is in the middle of talking to the producer. She nervously pats Seth on the shoulder and tells him the story as well. I have a clear view of his face, and I see him raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t like this. But in the end, he waves his hand several times. After Sarah storms off, Seth gets up and comes over to me.
“My darling,” he purrs, even though he does not consider me one, “that leaves the rest of the work to you.”
“Sure, of course,” I say, a smile on my face, but as soon as I realize exactly what that means, the whole thing wilts right off me.
Meanwhile, Kaz has sat down on the couch and is picking through the underwear laid out for him. Seth gestures toward him.
“Have your fun with him.”
He gives my shoulder a little encouraging push. I step closer to him, slowly and carefully. This man is perfection itself. To me, anyway. Forty-two years old, experienced, intelligent, respectful. Not that I’ve ever spoken to him before; I’ve only heard it from other people who worked with him during the shoot. I always tried to avoid dressing him whenever I possibly could. But now there’s no getting out of it. I would gladly ask Seth if we could switch places. I’d only need ten minutes. I promise I wouldn’t touch the script. I accept that the chances of this are slim. When he notices me approaching, he stands.
Huge.
At least six foot five. I’m not short either, somewhere around five eleven, but even so, I still have to look up at him a little.
“Kaz Wolf,” he says, offering me his hand.
As if every single member of the crew doesn’t know his name.
“Tom Mercer.”
Hopefully, I’m doing more than just mouthing the words as I accept his greeting. He flashes a snow-white smile.
“The Tom?” he asks. “The one who turns everyone into a supermodel?”
His face is framed by a neatly trimmed light-brown beard. His hair is gelled to the side. I can feel the air leaving his mouth. People talk a lot about bad breath. What comes from his mouth isn’t a smell, but something else entirely. Some kind of pheromone scent, that makes me want to ask him to keep talking, leaning as close to me as possible.
“I suppose,” I answer awkwardly. “But I think they’re slightly overestimating my abilities.”
“Well…”
He gestures down at himself.
“We’ll find out soon enough. Turn me into a prince.”
“We’re talking about a love scene.”
I almost said porn, but managed to catch myself in time.
“Can’t I still be a prince?” His dimples climb even higher.
His whole face is smiling. His hazel eyes are practically sparkling with amusement. I swallow hard.
“If you’d like some privacy while you…” I clear my throat. “…undress, you can go into the bathroom.”
Which is really just a hastily thrown-together bathroom set anyway. The focus was on the sanctuary, not the bathroom. He lifts two pairs of boxers from the bed.
“You can come in with me too, so we can see right away which one looks better.”
A lot of people have said he loves messing around.
“I don’t like seeing clients naked.”
I got used to using that word years ago. Seth has asked me more than once to stop saying it, but I like it so much that I’ve always been stubborn enough to keep it for myself. But I only use it for men.
“Your loss,” he replies, that heavenly scent still coming from his mouth.
“That one will work.”
I point at the black pair of underwear in his right hand.
“The poison green doesn’t really fit this scene.”
“The master’s word is my command.”
He tosses the other pair back with the rest and slowly disappears, closing the door behind him. I take a deep breath. Finally. I’m not even sure I was breathing at all while he was standing in front of me. I give myself a few moments to pull it together, pick up the discarded clothes, and take them back to Seth.
“We’ve got the perfect one,” I say, balling the rest up in my hand.
“You haven’t even seen it yet,” he shoots back.
“Don’t you know me?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Throw them in the basket with the rest of the rejects,” he says, dismissing me with a simple sentence.
I go back into the room. Nothing special. A bed with pink sheets, a vanity at the front of the room, a vase in the middle of it. Inside, a bouquet of roses John supposedly brought for Zoe. This is going to be their first time together. If Kaz had actually brought those, I’d say he had terrible taste. But as an insider, I know they aren’t even real flowers. Just a few white artificial roses. The door opens, and Kaz steps out. He’s wearing a white robe, tied at the waist.
“Well?” he asks, spreading his arms.
“The robe isn’t bad,” I say, “but you won’t need it for long. What’s underneath is what I’m more interested in.”
I would love to slap myself. I know exactly how that sounded. And yet I had absolutely no intention of using such a stupidly suggestive phrase.
“Yeah?” he asks, smiling again, then unties the belt and lets the fabric fall to the floor.
Defined, massive pecs. His stomach is a little soft, but I couldn’t even imagine him with a six-pack. At the base of his stomach, a V of hair begins, leading down to where his most beautiful, rather sizable part is probably hiding.
Jesus Christ, Tom. Focus.
Still, I let my gaze drink in the sight. Nicely full biceps, firm thighs, thick calves. A living dream.
“Yes,” I say after a while, my mouth dry. “But you shouldn’t have taken the socks off.”
I point at his wide feet.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, looking down too. “Should I put them back on… or?”
He lifts his head and smiles wickedly at me. I roll my eyes.
“I’ll put them on you. Sit down.” I point to the edge of the bed.
“Good boy.”
My hand stops halfway through the air as I reach for the socks.
“Excuse…” I’d begin.
“Come on, a little momentum,” Seth says, clapping his hands together. “We don’t have all day. I still want to shoot at least three more scenes today.”
I pick up the black cotton, still thinking about what he just said. But I probably just misheard him.
