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Ryan frowns. Before I can make much of it, Luke leads me into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
The office kitchen is small, and the promised coffee is from one of those single-cup machines. Luke loads the machine, adding exactly the right amount of water. My heart beats faster and faster. I swear I start sweating. I shouldn't be alone with him. It's not appropriate.
Especially when he's so fucking handsome.
“You were amazing in that film, Mahogany,” he says. “You stole every scene you were in.”
“Thank you.”
“You must hear it all the time.”
“Only occasionally,” I say. It's not like I go anywhere where I would hear it. It's not like I go anywhere where anyone would recognize me.
“I remember when it came out. I think Ryan had just started dating you. And he was bragging about how gorgeous and talented you were. But he hadn't seen it. So I told him, and—fuck, you probably got the short end of the stick on this one. I told him that you do a strip tease in it.”
“Well, aren't you a fucking instigator,” I say with a laugh.
“Did he throw a fit?”
“He wasn't pleased.” Ryan is never happy about any love scenes. God forbid a role call for nudity.
“Sorry, but the look on his face… God, he was so jealous. I thought he might punch me.”
“Oh, please. You did it just to annoy him. You would have worn a black eye like a badge of honor.”
“Maybe.” He laughs. “Probably.”
“That's why you insisted on making me coffee, isn't it?” I ask.
“Well…”
“Well?”
“I've been dying to meet you for a while.”
“Are you saying that because he might overhear?”
Luke shakes his head. “I was hoping you'd be a bit more…”
“Vacuous?”
“Show off.” He brushes his hand against mine for no particular reason, his eyes locked on mine, studying me for a reaction. I bite my tongue to keep from blushing. He's touching me on purpose.
“It's not because you're blonde,” he continues. “Or because you're gorgeous. And not because you played that slutty cheerleader.”
My heart beats faster. He thinks I'm gorgeous.
“And not because all actors are idiots.” I offer.
He nods. “I couldn't imagine Ryan being with someone smarter than him.”
“Than he is,” I correct him. I brace for an eye roll, but he smiles, his big, brown eyes lighting up.
“I'm jealous. I've never been with someone who corrects my grammar.”
“Ryan hates it.”
“Fuck Ryan.”
