Page 67 of A Simple Love

I set down my coffee. “Why?”

“I think I might have been what upset Sheri.”

“What?”

She described what had happened by her car. I scratched my neck in vexation, although thinking about the dirt spraying Sheri made the wardrobe thing make more sense.

“I’m sorry,” Kassie offered. “She was just so nasty.”

I took her hand and kissed it. “Don’t worry about it. She was pissed at me, and you didn’t back down. So her diva ego was engaged.”

“But you got into trouble.”

I shrugged. “I survived. She wasn’t as careful this time and let her mask slip. Some of her true personality showed. Others saw it.” I snorted. “Carl called her a snake. At least all I have to do is trade some dialogue with her. One hug, I think. He has to kiss her. A lot. And there are, ah, intimate scenes. Poor guy.”

“Is that difficult?” she queried. “The intimate stuff?”

“The hard part is making it look intimate. There are lights, cameras, people. I always worry about making sure I don’t hit my costar in the face with an elbow or press too hard. If I remembered to brush my teeth or if I ate garlic with lunch. Hope she doesn’t drench herself in perfume and make me sneeze. There is a vast amount of trust that is involved. And I have a strict nudity clause.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Really,” she drawled. “I’ve seen your bare ass a couple of times on the big screen. And you flash your torso often.”

I chuckled. “And there is a line to which they can pan. No lower. I always wear modesty covers. There are barriers we can wear too—and always an intimacy coach. My ass is rather spectacular, so that, I don’t mind. Or at least, I didn’t. I haven’t shown it in a couple years.”

“Why?”

“I prefer not to unless it’s needed. And the argument has to be a good one for me to agree.” I shrugged. “Getting older comes with wrinkles. My ass isn’t as tight as it used to be.”

“Felt pretty great to me,” she murmured, the corners of her pretty mouth turning up. “Looked firm, but I suppose the lighting was dim.”

I grinned. “Oh yeah? You want to see it in broad daylight, lovely?”

She laughed, which was what I wanted her to do. “No, my memory is still fine, Hart,” she stated primly, taking a sip of her coffee. Then she met my eyes.

“I don’t like watching those parts of your films,” she admitted quietly.

“Maybe knowing how they are filmed helps?” I asked, feeling a little pleased that she didn’t like to see me with someone else.

“Maybe.”

“Trust me, they are anything but intimate. It’s all part of the job.”

She hummed, not really answering.

I drained my coffee, glancing at the counter. “Any of those pies for me?”

“No. I gave you two yesterday.”

“You can’t call those pies, really,” I replied, walking to the row of enticing pies. “Tarts, more like it.”

“Big tarts.”

I pursed my lips. “Depends on your viewpoint, I suppose.”

I drifted my hand toward one of the pies that looked especially appetizing. The fruit had bubbled over, the crust glistening with the juice, tempting and warm. Surely she would allow me one of these incredibly delicious treats.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned.

I peeked sideways at her. “Or else…?”