Page 29 of Cast to be Mine

“Can we run through the scene where I find Jack’s character tied up and have to cut him loose?”

“Let’s do it,” he said and got to his feet.

I nodded and followed him down the catwalk stairs to the lower level where the generator room set was taking shape. The space smelled like fresh paint and sawdust. Micah positioned himself against a metal beam and put his arms behind his back with an imaginary rope and slipped right back into character.

I approached slowly. The lines came easily now. I could feel Elena’s panic, her desperation, the way the stakes pressed down on her. Micah reacted perfectly, his voice rough with pain and relief as Cole warned me about the guards closing in. We moved through the exchange, the tension building exactly as it should on the page. When it came time to cut him free, I mimed slicing the ropes and helped him up, our bodies close in the confined space.

The script called for the kiss right there—Elena’s impulsive grab for connection in the middle of chaos, Cole pulling her in before they both remembered the danger. I didn’t hesitate. The scene had me in its grip, and Micah’s eyes were right there, intense and focused. I leaned in, closing the distance, and pressed my lips to his.

Nothing about it felt fake. His mouth was warm, the kiss soft at first then deepening as he responded without breaking character. Heat rushed through me, making my pulse spike harder than any line delivery ever had. His hand came up to my waist, and for one suspended second I forgot we were rehearsing at all.

I liked it.

Too much. My body leaned into his without thought.

He pulled back first, breathing a little uneven. “That’s good,” he said, voice low. “Really good. Let’s call it there for today.”

The shift was abrupt, professional again. I blinked, the spell breaking, and stepped away, my cheeks burning. “Okay. Yeah.”

He ran a hand through his hair, already moving toward the door. “You’re in great shape now. Monday will be solid. Get some rest.”

I nodded, grabbing my bag with hands that suddenly felt clumsy. “Thanks. For today. For everything.”

“Anytime.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “See you then.”

I left the soundstage without looking back, the afternoon sun hitting me like a slap as I crossed the lot to my car. My lips still tingled. I slid behind the wheel and started the engine. I’d liked kissing him. Not the character. Him. And that was a problem I had no idea how to fix before Monday.

10

MICAH

Iwatched Grace’s car disappear through the studio gates before I let myself move. My lips still burned from where hers had been. I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth like I could somehow erase the sensation.

Or preserve it.

What the hell was wrong with me?

She’d been acting. Of course she’d been acting. That’s what I’d asked her to do—commit fully to the scene, don’t hold back, give me the real performance.

And damn, she had. She’d thrown herself into it with the kind of fearless commitment I’d been hoping to see from her all along.

I’d responded like a teenager who’d never been kissed before. I scrubbed both hands over my face and headed back into the soundstage. The crew would be returning from their break soon, but I needed a minute. I needed to get my head straight before anyone saw me like this.

I needed to be professional.

I’d directed love scenes before. I’d watched actors kiss, touch, simulate intimacy in ways far more explicit than what had just happened.

It had never affected me.

Not once.

I understood the separation between performance and reality. Between what happened in character and what was real.

So why was my heart still racing?

Because Grace was different. That was the problem. From the moment she’d walked into that audition, something about her had gotten under my skin. The way she moved, the intelligence in those blue eyes, the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. I’d told myself it was just professional interest—recognizing talent when I saw it.

But that kiss had blown that lie apart.