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“Thanks,” she says, blushing. She has tiny freckles on her nose and across her cheeks, amping up her girl-next-door appeal. “This house was my gift to myself when I left LA. I used up the last of my Bridge earnings for safety, security, and a place to call home.”
Her eyes move over the fruits of her labor, and I watch the small, self-satisfied smile that blossoms. She’s the prettiest thing in this gorgeous landscape.
“What if you sit in that chair—” I point. “I’ll set this up here…”
She nods, and I set up the phone where I indicated. She takes a seat on the couch.
“Maybe you’re sitting out here, reading, and I surprise you?”
She dashes inside and comes back out with a book. Marriage of Inconvenience by Penny Reid. Seems…apt.
She curls up with her book in the corner of the chair. “How do we explain the fact that I have greasepaint on my face?”
I shrug. “You were fixing the car and then took a break in the shade.”
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes.
“Your fans are not going to ask questions. They’re just going to love this.”
“Except for the disappointed suitors.”
“Screw them,” I say. “I revel in their disappointment.”
Truer words were never spoken. Anyone who doesn’t want to know who Ivy is beyond the character on the screen is missing out and doesn’t deserve her.
“One more thing,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“Wait here.”
I go back to my car and grab what I need from the back seat. When I step out into the backyard again, her eyes get big.
“Is that a real sword?”
“It’s a stunt sword. Aluminum. They use steel for up-close shots and this for wider shots.”
“Huh.”
“Women love swords.”
She rolls her eyes again.
“Tell me you don’t.”
She bites her lip. “I—damn it. It’s pretty hot,” she admits.
I sheath it while she watches. Very slowly and deliberately.
“Seriously?” she demands.
I grin and shrug. “Whatever the audience wants.”
I start recording. She tucks herself back into the corner with her book. I stride into the frame. She does an admirable job of pretending I’ve startled her.
I try to kneel, and my sword jams itself into a space between the patio stones and I almost fall over.
Ivy dissolves in giggles. “Lord Extyllior,” she says when she can speak again. “I think your sword is too big.”
