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I grab Maxine and maneuver out of the imaginary harm’s way, putting her back up against the fake wallpapered wall.
“Excellent. Now step closer and brace your hands on either side of her head.”
I do as I’m told, leaning in closer to Maxine. She sucks in a breath that, had I not heard it, I might have missed. She’s not as unaffected by me as she’s pretending to be.
“Okay, if you’re not an actress, then what do you do on set?”
“I am in charge of color-coding all of the glitter used in the scenes.”
“Maxine, put your hands on Andrew’s hips,” Luca says.
She swallows visibly, but then I feel her hands on the outsides of my jeans.
“No, no! I know you’re not an actress,” Luca yells. “But can you pretend you want to be there. Grab onto him.”
Her fingers curl into my hips and fuck me, Luca doesn’t even know what he’s asking of me.
I lick my lips, flick my eyes down to her mouth briefly, then back up to her gaze.
“This is so forced and contrived. I will never understand how costars hook up so frequently,” she says, but her voice has lost some of its edge.
“Are you doubting the necessity of our fearless hero saving our intrepid heroine?”
She rolls her eyes. “Please. If the boxes are falling and she can’t get out of the way before he has time to run across the room and save her, then maybe she deserves to get crushed.”
“Maybe shock and panic keep her from moving.”
This time she snorts. “What is she? An armadillo? Does she roll into a ball too?”
I toss my head back and laugh. “You’re delightful, sweetheart. Have dinner with me.”
Her smile disappears. “Um … no, thank you.”
“Why not?”
“Look, I’m sure I seem like low hanging fruit on the set, but I’ve been around guys like you my entire life and honestly, I need more than a pretty face. Besides, it’s not going to hurt you to put in the effort to charm someone else.”
I shake my head in confusion. “Low hanging fruit? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means any guy who is as good looking as you can get laid any time he wants. Even in Hollywood. Still, I get it. You look around the set, try to find a woman who will take the least amount of work. The woman who’s a little frumpy, more than a little chubby and will probably just be grateful for the attention. But sorry, I will not be that woman.”
She’s got it all wrong. Everything she just said is wrong. I grin at her.
“I’m beginning to think that you might be slow-witted, as they say,” she hisses.
“A little closer, Andrew,” Luca barks.
And a little closer is all I need to completely close the distance between our mouths. I can’t help myself. I’ve got to taste for myself and see if all those snarky words make for a tart kiss. I should have known better. She tastes like cinnamon and cloves and Christmas morning.
Her fingernails—blunt though they are—dig into my hips as she tightens her hold on me. She kisses me back, her tongue sweeping into my mouth in a bold, take-charge kind of way.
She makes a whimpering noise in her throat.
Laughter sounds from behind us. Fucking Luca and the camera guys. It definitely breaks the spell though because the next thing I know, I’ve got a knee to my groin and two palms pushing against my chest.
I fall to the set floor with a ‘oof.’
“Jackass,” she mutters, then she storms off.
