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I look over. One of the lighting techs is gesturing me down the terrace. I go, wincing at the nickname. I’m a Suit Guy, fuck.
“What do you need?” I ask, glad of the distraction from Jolene and her potential filming hookups.
“Stand here a minute, will you?” She gestures to a taped X on the ground. “You’re about Hugo’s height, and we need a stand-in for the lights.”
I do as she says, loitering awkwardly as they take readings by my face, and adjust a spotlight overhead. “Cool… Cool… Thanks,” the tech mutters, peering at her readings. “Shit, where’s Sophia’s stand-in?”
“I haven’t seen her,” a passing PA shrugs.
The tech sighs. “Where’s another body?” she calls.
“JJ can do it,” Hazel calls over to us, and gives her a firm shove in my direction. Jolene looks like she’s about to fight her on it, but the lighting tech is already hustling her over, and thrusting her into position beside me.
“Won’t take a minute. Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!”
They all retreat to study their screens, leaving Jolene and I alone. At least, it feels that way to me, standing there awkwardly on the terrace just a few inches away, trying not to stare.
Fuck, she’s beautiful—and the past ten years have only made her settle into her beauty. Back then, she was fresh-faced and innocent, even if she hid it behind her bold quips and sassy smirks. Now, there’s a new vitality in her eyes. Call it age, or wisdom, or just getting comfortable with who she really is. She’s somehow more herself than she was before, and damn, if it doesn’t slay me all over again.
“Ready for your close-up?” Jolene finally says, looking just about as uncomfortable as I feel.
“This is about as close as I’ll get to being on-screen,” I say immediately, and she grins.
“Me too. My god, have you seen what those actors go through just to be camera-ready? Sophia hasn’t touched a carb all week, and Hugo is in the gym at five a.m. every day.”
How does she know that? I remember her exiting his trailer with him, looking awfully friendly, and feel an unwelcome surge of jealousy.
“Can you move in closer?” one of the tech calls. “Second position, it’s marked on the ground.”
We both look down. The taped Xs are barely inches apart.
Reluctantly, we move closer.
We get a thumbs-up. “OK, now chin up, if you please, Lizzy stand-in. Eyes on him.”
Jolene lifts her eyes to mine, still guarded in a defiant stare, like she can’t wait to get away from me.
The feeling is entirely mutual. Because standing here, close enough to touch, close enough tosmellher, the light, fruity scent of her shampoo?
It’s just about torture. Memories crash through me, of the hours we spent tangled up in each other’s arms. The weight of her body above me.
The way she looked, flushed and breathless, right before she came.
Fuck.
Jolene’s eyes are still locked on mine, but they’re wider now, and I swear her cheeks are flushing pink under the lights. Is she taking the same X-rated trip down memory lane? Does she still make that breathy moan if you kiss the nape of her neck? Does she still shudder with desire when you pin her wrists above her head, and make her beg for it—?
Stop.
I drag my gaze away. The lighting techs are still bustling around, adjusting rigs and lenses, so there's nothing for me to do but employ every ounce of self-control, and stay frozen there in place, waiting for this nightmare to be over.
“Suit Guy, can you shift ninety degrees? No, the other way.”
“Suit Guy?” Jolene echoes quietly, looking amused.
I follow the instructions, giving her a warning look. “That is not my new nickname.”
“No, I think it is.” Jolene beams wider. “I think from now on, you’ll be known to everyone as Suit Guy.”
