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Deidre buzzes in my ear. “Brilliant call on the line. And I say that because it’s exactly what I would have suggested. They called me in, but you’d already handled it.”
Shoot.Did I step on Deidre LaRochelle’s toes? “Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to butt in.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “Honey, you get me. You get my characters. I can’t wait to see your take on the season finale.” She slides an arm around my back to get closer. “When the season one dust settles, I’d love to have a tête-à-tête with you about the state of our book two breakdown.”
Cameras roll. I’m forced to watch Jack pretend to turn to goo inside Niks Tellefson.
Deidre gives me a quick hug. “It’s their job, sweetheart. Nothing more.”
I stiffen so quickly there’s no way she’s missed it. “Uh huh.” Does she know about Jack and me? Did Meg tell her? We haven’t admitted anything. Plausible deniability.
To my surprise, Deidre pulls my head to her shoulder and kisses my hair in a move so like my mother’s, it shatters me. “You’ll get through it.”
Somehow, Deidre knows what this is doing to me. I manage a smile. “Thanks.”
She pats my back and saunters off in Alan’s direction.
I trace the lines of cables on the floor with my eyes, trying to shut out the moans and sighs of pleasure coming from the bed. I hear Niks deliver the line about owning Donal Cam’s soul.
“And cut,” says Alan.
Bobby zips to my side, chatting me up like he’s just birdied a hole.
“Perfect. Niks nailed it, don’t you think?” All I’m capable of producing is a nod. “Let’s finally have that dinner I’ve been asking for since you arrived.” Another nod. “Great. Give me a couple of hours.”
“May I be excused?” My voice resembles a robotic eight-year-old’s, asking parental permission to leave the dinner table.
Bobby gives me an odd look.
The damage control switch in my brain flips on. “Actually, I was planning on working on the finale script tonight. I’m on a roll.”
He relaxes. “I don’t want to screw with your momentum. Dinner can wait.”
I open my mouth to answer when the sight over his shoulder strangles me. Swathed in their robes, Niks and Jack are off in a corner of the set, arms around each other, foreheads touching while they whisper. He reaches up to stroke her hair, and she lays her head on his shoulder. The intimacy of that moment is more devasting than their naked bodies sliding together.
“Thanks for understanding.”
“Of course. But soon, okay?” he says. My smile is so stiff, lips press against my teeth. Bobby takes it as a “yes” and pops back over to Alan.
There’s a clatter as people and equipment move out. Theatrical lights snap off and work lights take over. My shadowy nook is suddenly as bright as the rest of the set. I’ve got to get out of here before Jack sees me.
The way I came in is clogged with the exodus. I wish I could just hurdle the flats to escape the sight of Jack and Niks cooing over one another. I’m close to losing it. I need to get the hell out of here.
I swing around one of the cameras to get free of this place. Before I make it to the edge of the last flat, I hear Jack curse. A quick glance confirms I’m the source of his expletive.
A roar screams inside my head. He can’t come after me. Not here. Not in front of all these people. I want to run like the devil is on my tail, but I force myself to walk with purpose across the sound stage toward the sanctuary of the writer’s room where Jack won’t dare confront me.
I’m so flustered, I zip through the wrong pair of double doors and find myself in the design wing. Passing the costume shop that’s abuzz with activity, I head toward the end of corridor. There’s a way to cut back over to the wing with the writer’s room without having to backtrack through the sound stage.
I make it as far as the armory before a rock-solid arm wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground. I clamp onto Jack’s forearm through the sleeve of his white robe and shove. “Put me down!”
He kicks the door of the armory open and propels us through as I break his hold. We both stumble forward, but before I gain any distance on him, he clutches my hand in a death grip.
“You either talk to me now, or I swear I’ll toss you in a sack, stuff you in the boot of my car, and drive out to the middle of a pasture so you can’t get away.”
I frantically search the darkened room. We’re alone. No weapons from the bedroom set to put away.
Without warning, he pulls me against him. The tie of his robe has come undone, and I’m crushed against a sweaty, very naked Jack, who reeks of Niks’s perfume. It turns my stomach.
