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As she mounts the bike, I take in the luscious curves of her hips, my heart banging inside my chest. It’s impossible to look away.You don’t see a lot of women with figures like hers in Hollywood, and I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as her. She’s stunning from head to toe.
William calls out for the scene to start, and the bike’s engine growls to life. Then off she goes, deftly zooming past an improvised obstacle course as the sound of fake gunfire fills the set. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s obviously talented, too.
I’m mesmerized.
Chapter Two
Zoey
“That’s a wrap, everyone!”
With my heart still beating a thousand miles per hour, I dismount from the bike and take my helmet off. I’m still riding high on adrenaline, but I’m more than ready for the day’s shooting to be over.
It’s not that I’m unhappy with my performance—in fact, the opposite is true—but there are other things on my mind right now. To start with, my old SUV insists on crapping out on me every other day, and I need to get it over to the auto shop before they close for the day.
I’m making my way off the set when a tall man steps in front of me. He has an easy but confident smile, broad shoulders, and the build of a man used to physical labor. Despite his physical ruggedness, he’s clean-shaven, and his unruly brown hair makes him look like an A-lister.
“That was amazing,” he says, his perfect white teeth showing as he smiles. That’s not the only thing about him that’s perfect. Before I can help it, my eyes dart to his chest, where the fabric of his shirt fails at hiding the impressive contour of his pecs. “I have a bike just like the one you rode, and I know it’s not an easy beast to tame. The way you handled it, though…wow.”
“Thanks,” I say, my cheeks turning warm from his attention. “Are you in the movie, too? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”
“I’m Dean.” He reaches a large hand out and I shake it. His touch sends a pleasant shiver up my spine. “I’m a stuntman. I’m doubling for the lead.”
“Oh, right,” I mutter, mentally smacking myself in the forehead. He’s so attractive that I’d assumed he was an actor. He’d look right at home walking on a red carpet.“I’m Zoey.”
“Can I buy you a drink somewhere?” he asks.
His question catches me off guard.
“Sorry, I’m in a hurry,” I find myself saying. I’ve gotten catcalled a lot, but I’m not used to being asked out like this, and it’s gotten me all flustered. The next thing I know, I’m mumbling goodbye to Dean and hurrying off to the parking lot.
As I sit behind the steering wheel putting the key in the ignition, I chew on my bottom lip, Dean’s smile lingering in my mind. I can’t believe I just turned down a guy like him. But it’s for the best. It really is.
A drink sounds harmless enough, but it would just be the first step on the road to heartbreak. And heartbreak is the last thing I need right now.
“Oh, come on,” I mutter under my breath, turning the key as the engine sputters. I do it a couple more times, but nothing changes.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on my window. I jump in my seat. I look over, still trying to start the car, and see Dean standing outside my rolled-down window.
Just then, the engine finally comes to life.
“I was going to ask if you needed some help, but…” He rakes a hand through his hair and smiles. “Tell you what. I’ll follow you to the auto shop, just in case your car breaks down on the way.”
I hesitate.I’m not in the habit of accepting help from strangers. But Dean isn’t exactly a stranger, is he? He’s working on the same movie that I am. That makes him a colleague of sorts. And there’s nothing wrong with accepting help from a work colleague, is there?
“Okay,” I finally say. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
Miraculously, the car doesn’t break down as I navigate through L.A.’s afternoon traffic. Dean follows after me on a black motorcycle, much like the one I was driving in my scene.
I make it to the auto shop in time. There’s no wait, luckily, and soon I’m walking back out. I don’t expect to see Dean waiting there for me, but he is.
“How’s the patient?” he asks, casually leaning against his bike.
“The doctors say they’re taking a look at it,” I tell him. “They’re going to give me a call once they know what’s up.”
“Let’s grab a cup of coffee while we wait.” He points out a café on the other side of the street.
I’m not exactly in the mood for coffee, but it will beat just sitting around here while I wait for the mechanics to tell me what needs to be done. And it’s not like this is a date. It’s not a drink. It’s just coffee. Coffee with a colleague. Right?
