Authors: Inara Scott
He spun around when the door clicked shut. “You’re here.”
One side of his mouth quirked upward. “I wasn’t sure if you would come back,
after last night.”
For a moment, she froze, imagining the heat between their
bodies and the stark invitation she’d seen in his eyes just before she fled.
Then she forced herself to relax and take a deep breath. He was talking about
the film. Surely he was talking about the film. They’d agreed to put aside
anything else, hadn’t they?
“I love a challenge,” she said brightly.
“Me too.” He seemed to imply something with those words,
something that made her squirm, though she could not have articulated a reason
why. He eyed her bulky sweatshirt, dark glasses, and jeans. “I see you’ve got
your grubbies on today.”
She tried to look nonchalant, adjusting her worn canvas
backpack on one shoulder before burying her hands in her pockets. Everything on
the set looked the same as it had the night before, the heavy glass ashtray
back in place on the end table, the cushions arranged symmetrically on the
couch. “I told you, this is how I’m most comfortable.”
He turned his back to her and put the viewfinder to his
eye again. “Whatever you say.”
So he was going to pretend nothing had happened. That was
good, right? Nothing
had
happened, really. He’d kissed her. Made an
offer she refused. It was likely an unusual event for him, but ultimately
meaningless. If Ryker was frustrated, he didn’t need her help to unwind. There
were thousands of women who would be thrilled to crawl into his bed. He’d
probably waited about thirty seconds after she’d left before he’d called one.
“What are we shooting this morning?” She had studied the
script into the wee hours of the morning but suddenly couldn’t remember a word
of what she’d read.
“The scene we rehearsed yesterday.” He picked up a
dog-eared copy of a script from the coffee table and scribbled some notes on
the page. “It’s just a kiss. I figured Jake and Lena should be able to handle
that, at least.”
“Any new ideas?”
“I thought that was your job.”
He slipped the viewfinder into his pocket and made another
note, the sound of his pencil scratching on the paper echoing in the large,
open space. Alix dropped her backpack on the floor a few feet away and pulled
out her own copy of the script. She flipped to the scene and spent a moment
reviewing her notes before she looked up.
She took a deep breath. “I do have some thoughts on how we
might do this differently.”
If she hadn’t been staring at them, she’d never have
noticed the way his shoulders tightened at her words. The tiny movement
reminded her of the frustration that had spilled out of him the night before.
Ryker was a proud man. It didn’t take Dr. Phil to understand that he didn’t
entirely appreciate her presence on the set or the suggestion that she could
fix what he couldn’t.
“By all means,” he said, gesturing for her to continue.
“Share your thoughts.”
Alix steeled herself for his reaction. “Well, as you said
last night, we can’t do much about their relationship. So I thought we’d start
by focusing on what we can control—the way you’ve structured the scene.
As it is now, Jake kisses Lena, right? I mean, she’s been working on getting
him to kiss her for a while, but he’s the one who takes the initiative. And
it’s pretty abrupt. He comes into the room and checks the windows first. Like
this.” She mimicked his movements as she moved around the stage, shutting out
Ryker and losing herself in the memory of the scene. She stopped at the end of
the couch. “He ends up beside Lena, and they exchange a few lines. And the next
thing you know, he hauls her into his arms, and they’re kissing.”
“Yes, and…?”
“It sets up the wrong dynamic,” she said flatly. “Lena
should be the one in charge. It’s her seduction, not his. Later, he should
remember that she was the one to kiss him, not the other way around, and it
will make him suspicious. Besides, I think the more control we build into the
scene for her, the more comfortable she’ll feel as an actor.”
“Show me,” Ryker demanded. He positioned himself on the
far right side of the stage. “I’m Hank. I’ve just come from an encounter with a
menacing thug that I think may be working for Lena’s brother. I’ve come here
because I’m worried about her, but I’m also suspicious that she may be caught
up in the business.”
Alix nibbled her lower lip and sat down on the arm of the
couch, as Lena had the day before. “So you stalk around the room, as much for
her benefit as yours. She’s by the couch, watching. The camera follows her
point of view, varied between broad shots of your upper body and tight shots on
your hands hovering near your gun, maybe your upper back and the side of your
face.”
Ryker walked around the set slowly. He looked thoughtful
but not hostile. Alix decided that was a good sign.
“Then when you come over to the couch, Lena stands up.
She’s nervous; maybe her hands are trembling. But she knows what she has to
do.”
Ryker stopped a few inches from her. Alix held out one
hand toward him. “She’s pleading, supplicating.”
He took her hand slowly. Alix rose to her feet, the touch
of his hand instantly bringing a warm tingle through her body. “We’ll need to
rewrite a bit of the script here. She says you can’t stay, but she’s holding on
to you like she’s terrified to let go. She’s saying one thing, but her body is
telling you something else. She touches your chest, and you cover her hand with
yours.”
Alix placed her hand over Ryker’s heart and felt the
strong, steady beat through the smooth cotton of his shirt. He brought his
other hand to touch hers, and the jolt of energy that followed was so strong
she jumped.
“And then?” he said, his voice low.
“Why don’t we wait for Jake and Lena to get here,” she
gasped. Her body seemed paralyzed, held in place by the force of his hand
closing over hers.
“If we’re going to bring something new to them, I want to
understand what it is first,” he said. “This partnership isn’t going to work if
we don’t have a unified front.”
She had to admit he had a point. “It isn’t complicated.”
She tried to extract her hand from his, but his fingers tightened around hers.
“You exchange a look with her. You tell her she’s driving you crazy, but you
can’t get romantically involved while you’re on a case. You start to pull away.
She begs you to stay. She brings your arms around her.” Alix twined Ryker’s arm
around her body, trying to convince herself that they were actors in a movie.
That she was not inches away from the body she longed to
rub herself against like a cat at a scratching post.
“You stop, body rigid. Your breathing quickens. She
caresses the side of your face, your hair. You hold back from her, but you’re
obviously fighting a losing battle.” His hair felt soft on her fingers, his jaw
rough with dark stubble. Had he not shaved that morning? Alix swallowed hard
but forced herself to continue. “She twines her fingers in your hair and pulls
your face down to hers. You follow her lead, slowly but surely, eyes never
leaving hers.”
Ryker’s dark gaze devoured her. Her thoughts seemed
determined to scatter, but she forced them back to the reason she was holding
him. “And then they kiss.”
Ryker moved his mouth next to hers, so close she could
feel the touch of his breath sliding across her cheek.
“And it’s your kiss, not mine?” he asked. “You’re in
control?”
Alix nodded, taking short, shallow breaths, fearing her
breasts might brush against him if she sucked in air the way she wanted.
“But how do I feel?” Ryker’s eyes never left hers. He had
moved his hand to her back, pressing her body gently but firmly toward his. She
resisted until the force of his hand pushed her slightly off balance, and she
had to take a step forward to steady herself. The tiny movement brought their
legs brushing against each other. “I’m a man who is used to being in charge.
And now I’m suddenly going to let you run the show?”
She swallowed hard. “My…er…
her
kiss sets off a fire
that neither of you can control. When you look back, all you remember is that
she kissed you, and then everything went to black.”
Ryker’s mouth moved even closer. Alix swayed. Her eyes
felt heavy, the weight of his gaze dragging them closed. “And what does the camera
do?”
“Stays framed on their faces. This is where they shut out
the rest of the world. Nothing matters but that kiss. Only when they break
apart do we cut to a wider shot, bring the rest of the world back in.”
His gaze flicked from her mouth to her eyes, caressing her
with everything but his hands. Just as her body began to scream for more, he
straightened abruptly.
“I like the first part,” he said. “Hate the end. It isn’t
true to Jake’s character. Men don’t lose themselves like that. A man like Jake
would be thinking about his duty as a cop. He’d be worrying about who might
come in and wondering whether he’s ever going to get laid.” He dropped her hand
and walked back to pick up the script he’d discarded on the table next to them.
“We can give it a try, but I have to be honest with you. I’m not buying it.”
The heat drained from Alix’s body. Instantly, she was
reminded where she was and what they were doing. She had to convince this man,
this hot-blooded but strangely cold-hearted man, that romance had a place in
his movie.
And if she hadn’t known it before, she knew it now.
This would not be easy.
#
“Stop!” The frustration in Ryker’s voice matched Alix’s
mounting exasperation. “You two remember you’re supposed to be attracted to
each other, right?”
Lena, positioned behind a kitchen counter, raised one
perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “I’m just trying to do what you said, Ryker.” She
gestured contemptuously toward Jake. “I’m playing him for a fool. Didn’t you
get that?”
“Oh, we all got that, Lena,” Jake drawled. He wore a pair
of faded jeans, a tattered T-shirt, and a gun holster around one shoulder. As
he stuck his thumbs into the corners of his back pockets, he looked like six
feet of muscled, pissed-off cop.
“You aren’t doing much better,” Ryker said. In contrast to
Jake, Ryker wore casually elegant clothes that screamed money and style, from
his perfectly tailored shirts to his dark, coffee-colored loafers. After three
long days on the set, Alix had never seen Ryker looking rumpled, wrinkled, or
sloppy. It was infuriating, actually. Just once, she wanted to see him with a
coffee stain on his shirt or an errant wrinkle in his trousers. “You look at
her as if she’s a cobra who might strike at any minute.”
“I’m a cop,” Jake said. “She’s a suspect. I’m hardly going
to let down my guard completely.”
Alix gritted her teeth and tamped down the desire to
throttle all three of them. “Can we put that aside for a minute?” she
interjected. “You all are focusing on the things that are keeping Hank and
Salva apart. I need you to focus on the things that are drawing them together.
Lena, look at him.” Alix gestured toward Jake. “He’s in your kitchen oozing
pure masculinity and power. You want to think that you’re using him, but deep
down, you suspect you might be the one losing control.”
Jake grinned. “I like that. Pure masculinity and power.
Thanks, Alix.”
Alix smiled back but only for a second. “Don’t let it go
to your head. You’re a cop, but you’re also a man. You want her, and you’re not
sure how long you can resist. Got it? Enough with the kid gloves. You aren’t
scared of her, Jake. You’re wary. There’s a big difference. Now, can we start
from the top?”
Jake and Lena both turned to Ryker.
Alix held her breath. It always came back to this. Like
kids waiting for approval from a parent, when Alix pushed them, Jake and Lena
always looked to Ryker for support. And as much as Ryker tried to back her up—and
she had to admit that he did try—when it came down to it, he didn’t
believe in what she was attempting to do, and the actors knew it.
Ryker nodded, though to Alix’s eyes, it was painfully
obvious that he didn’t believe a word she’d said. “Do it again,” he said.
They walked through the scene two more times before Ryker
held up a tired hand. “Look, this isn’t getting any better. Lena, Jake enters
the kitchen on your first line, not your second, and I need you behind the
counter when he crosses the threshold. Then, just as he starts to speak, you
cross left, not right, and end up next to him, not five feet away.”
Lena rolled her eyes and flounced into place. Jake scowled
and took his place offstage. Ryker crossed his arms over his chest and gave
them both black stares.
One could almost see the thundercloud hovering over the
set.
The chance of them producing a romantic interlude in which
Lena ended up on the kitchen counter with her legs wrapped around Jake’s waist
seemed next to nil.
“Ryker,” Alix interrupted, “it’s one o’clock. Why don’t we
give Jake and Lena an hour off, and you and I can talk about this some more?
Maybe we can put our heads together and think of something new to try.”
They had made some progress over the three days. Not much
but some. They’d filmed one scene—the kiss—and it was better than
it had been before. Alix had convinced Ryker to allow Jake to show more vulnerability,
and they had changed some of the camerawork to bring a woman’s perspective to
the scene. Where before the camera had looked at Lena’s body through Jake’s
eyes, now they used Lena’s point of view, the camera lingering on Jake’s hands
and shoulders and brushing nervously across his gun before settling on his
lips. Where Ryker liked to use darker lighting, Alix convinced him to introduce
hints of warmer colors for scenes with Lena and Jake together.
But their progress was painfully slow, and neither Alix
nor Ryker was entirely happy with the results. Though she hadn’t figured out
how to say it, Alix had realized they could rehearse until they were blue in
the face, and Lena could cross left instead of right, and Jake could stop
looking like he was kissing a black widow spider, but the scene still wouldn’t
work.