Damaged In-Law (15 page)

“OK, everyone. Let
’
s have quiet on set,”
Rupert calls out.

The entire studio hushes as the hot lights flare all around
us. But for all the excitement, all the nerves I
’
m been
fighting all morning, the only thing I can focus on now is Jackson Cole. He
stands before me in his impeccable suit, scruffy jaw cocked in his signature
crooked grin. It
’
ll take all my self-control to spit out
my lines before throwing myself into his arms.

“And...Action,” I hear Rupert Davies say, as if from miles
away.

I feel my entire body shift as I take on the character of
Rosalie Danes. My spine straightens, my chin lifts defiantly as I fix my gaze
on Jack. But then, he
’
s not Jack in this moment. He
’
s transformed into the bitter, rakish lawman, Joel Brennan.
Suddenly, I think I understand why some people are so into role playing. This
is
hot
.

“To tell you the truth,” I begin my first line, voice rising
into a Hitchcock heroine lilt, “I didn
’
t just come here on
my brother
’
s behalf, Detective Brennan.”

“That
’
s
ex
-Detective Brennan,”
Jack snarls, taking a swinging step forward. My entire body responds to his
approach, and I can
’
t help stepping up to meet him.

“Whatever you
’
re called,” I murmur,
slipping my hands under his jacket, “I haven
’
t been able
to get you out of my mind since I saw you downtown this morning.”

He catches my chin in his hand, tilting my face up to his.
“You may not be able to get me out of your mind,” he growls, those blue eyes
gleaming wickedly, “But what say you and I work on getting you out of that
dress?”

I barely have a moment to notice the stingingly bad
dialogue, or rejoice in having remembered my few lines. Because just then, Jack
circles an arm around my waist, pulls me tightly against his body, and brings
his lips swiftly to mine.

The rest of the world falls away as our mouths meet, our bodies
pressed firmly together. I throw my arms around his shoulders, crushing myself
to him as he rakes his fingers through my carefully curled hair. I let my mouth
fall open to his, and immediately feel his tongue sweep against mine. The taste
of him hasn
’
t changed a bit.

Our tongues glance and tangle together as I grind my hips
against him. I gasp as he tugs back on my curls, exposing my throat. His lips
travel down along the slope of my neck, and a long, low groan rises from my
lips. I shove off his suit jacket, raking my fingers along his back as I clench
my thighs together, trying to contain the staggering strength of my desire for
him.

I gasp as Jack spins my body around and tugs down the zipper
of my slinky black dress. I feel the garment fall away, step out of the pool in
inky black fabric at my feet. I
’
ve been costumed in a lacy
vintage bralette and pantie set, with a delicate garter set and sheer silk
stockings. I strut away from Jack across the set, feeling his eyes on my firm
ass as I let my hips sway for his benefit. Just as I reach Joel Brennan
’
s modest bed, I turn to face Jack with a wicked, come-hither
smile. But as I catch sight of him once more, the grin falls away from my face.

He
’
s stripped off his jacket and white
shirt, his firm chest heaving. The muscles all along his arms ripple with
barely-contained need. But it
’
s his face that arrests and
engulfs me, erases the rest of the world altogether. His eyes are bottomless
with insatiable lust as he takes in the sight of me in my lacy unmentionables.
That strong, square jaw of his pulses with hunger. I
’
ve
never seen him like this before. He looks like he could tear straight through
me with the force of his need.

And that would be just fine with me.

The tension crackling through the air between us builds to a
frenzy, each of us trying to hold our ground against our unquenchable thirst.
Just when it feels as though the intensity of it will rip us each in two, Jack
rushes toward me at the same moment I spring forward into his arms. He catches
me easily, lifting me off the ground as I wrap my legs around the small of his
back, kissing him as deeply as I can.

He lays me out across the narrow bed, kneeling over me as
his breath comes hard and fast. I let my arms fall over my head as he traces
his fingers along my collarbone, the space between my breasts, grabbing hold of
my slender waist. I let my legs fall open before him as he lowers himself
between them, kissing up along my chest as his presses himself against me. It
’
s then, as he brings his lips scorchingly back to mine, that
his weight shifts and I suddenly realize something. A very
big
something.

He
’
s hard as a fucking rock.

“Cut!” Rupert shouts, his voice echoing across the space.

I stare up at Jack, as disoriented as if waking from another
dream. He kneels above me on the prop bed, gazing down at me under the hot
lights. The moment he laid his lips on mine, I
’
d
completely forgotten that we were supposed to be acting. That wasn
’
t Rosalie throwing herself at Joel just now. That was me,
giving myself over to Jack. The question is...was it Jack or Joel doing the
taking?

“That was
smokin
’
hot!”
Rupert crows, coming out from behind the camera and heading our way. “What
chemistry. You two are perfect together. I need to go take a cold shower!”

“I told you Callie was the right girl for the job,” Jack
says, beaming down at me.

“Aw, shucks,” I manage to kid, pulling myself to sitting on
the bed. My entire body is trembling in the wake of that passionate fever
dream.

“Look at you. You
’
re shaking like a leaf,”
Jack says, sitting down beside me and pulling me to his side. I notice that he
’
s gotten his rather sizable...
situation
under control,
now. Is that just what happens all the time during sex scenes, or what?

“Penelope! Get this lady a robe, would you?” Rupert calls
out. “I think we may have got that shot in one take, to be honest with you.”

“Here you go, Callie!” I hear Penelope chirp as she rushes
onto the set with a big, plushy robe for me. I slip into the thick garment,
though I
’
m certainly not shaking because I
’
m cold.

“Congratulations Cal,” Jack grins, pulling me into a tight
hug, “You just shot your very first scene.”

“Yeah, well...” I laugh weakly, growing dizzier with every
second I spend pressed against his body. “I have a pretty good costar, I
guess.”

“That was incredible, you two,” Penelope gushes, her hands
clasped excitedly. “So natural, so completely
charged
. If I didn
’
t know better, I
’
d think you two actually
had the hots for each other!”

Jack and I glance at each other, and I try to maintain my
best poker face. But we
’
ve never been able to keep the
truth from one another. I know he right there with me in the moment as we
finally got to satisfy our hunger for each other. And despite his straight face
now, I can tell he
’
s as taken aback by the force of what
passed between us as I am. Taken aback and more than a little intrigued, that
is.

“
Oh, sonofabitch!
” we hear Rupert roar
from video village—the wall of monitors that surrounds his director
’s chair.
“The light was way too hot on you two! Sorry guys. We
’
re gonna have to go back and do it again. Quiet on set,
everyone. Settle down!”

Penelope all but rips my robe away and holds up my black
dress for me to step back into. I look over at Jack, who swallows a knowing
grin. We get to do this all over again?

Holy shit
, I think to myself,
this is the best job
ever.

Chapter Twelve

My first two weeks on set for
City in Red
fly by in a
whirlwind of bright lights, dazzling costumes, and more caffeine than I care to
quantify. I
’
ve been dropped right into the middle of a
production that
’
s long been in full swing, so I
’
ve got no choice but to sink or swim. It isn
’
t
easy, and it isn
’
t always fun, but I manage to keep my
head above water.

It isn
’
t even the acting itself that
’
s the hardest part of all this. It
’
s the
relentless media attention, a phenomenon that
’
s totally
foreign to me. I
’
m fine being in front of a camera on
set—it
’
s the cameras that have started lurking around
every corner in my daily life that are the problem. In two weeks, I
’
ve gone from normal human to zoo animal, apparently. Who the
hell wants to see pictures of me getting a cup of coffee? I
’
ve
never understood celebrity worship, and becoming something of a celebrity hasn
’
t made it any more explicable.

Thank god I have Jack next to me through all of this. He
’
s right there with me for every interview, every scene, and every
encounter with the paparazzi. Hell, he
’
s even my next door
neighbor for the time being. Jack
’
s one hell of a partner
in crime. But I guess I always knew that he would be. He even convinces Rupert
Davies to let me improvise and rewrite some of my rather paltry dialogue as I
try and make my character more of a human women rather than a hot, leggy prop.

“You could rewrite
all
your lines,
”
Rupert laughs when I mention the lackluster dialogue, “As long as you keep
delivering on those sex scenes, you
’
re A-OK in my book. I
mean, god
damn
, Callie. I could watch you getting down and dirty all
day
.”

The sex scenes in this movie certainly are plentiful.
Jackson and I have practically been attached at the lips for these two weeks,
and I
’
m definitely not complaining. I feel more turned on
by our steamy games of “make believe” than any real life tryst. But as much as
I relish these hot scenes in the moment, each one leaves me wondering more and
more where Jackson stands with all of this. Is he feeling the same real-life
chemistry I am, here? Or is he just really good at his job? I don
’
t
think I can last much longer without knowing for sure. And so, as we finish
shooting our last scene for the week, I make myself a promise. I
’
m
going to ask Jackson where we stand before filming starts again on Monday.

I
have
to know.

“Great work today, Callie,” Rupert says to me as the
production team calls it a day.

“Thanks Mr. Davies,” I smile politely, shucking off my heavy
fur coat.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Rupert,” he
insists, laying a hand on the small of my back. His hand lingers there a second
longer than is entirely comfortable, but hey, I
’
ve just
spent two weeks writhing around in my skivvies. On camera. I
’
ve
given up on “
comfortable
” for the time being.

“
I just can’
t believe how much depth
you
’
re finding in this character,” Rupert goes on,
escorting me to my dressing room just off the sound stage.

“Every character is a person, no matter how little she has
to say. Or
wear
,” I reply, somewhat pointedly.

“Yeah, sure,” Rupert laughs, “But I mean, compared to what
your sister was doing, your performance is Oscar-worthy.”

I draw away from him, a surge of indignation swelling in my
belly.

“Avery barely got a chance to do anything with this
character,” I remind him heatedly, “I
’
m sure she would
have done a great job if she hadn
’
t—”

His snort of sarcastic laughter sends an angry flush rushing
to my cheeks.

“Don
’
t get me wrong, Avery was a sweet
girl,” he chuckles, “But she couldn
’
t act her way out of a
paper bag.”

“You
’
re the one who hired her, as I
recall,” I shoot back, stopping in front of my dressing room door.

“Well sure,” Rupert shrugs, placing his hands on his
burgeoning beer gut, “She was great to look at. But
you
must have gotten
all the acting genes, Callie. Seriously. It
’
s like night
and day, to your performances.”

“You know, I
’
m pretty exhausted,” I
reply, too worked up to carry on with this conversation in a remotely civil
way, “I
’
m just gonna change and be on my way.”

“Can I watch?” he grins, with a theatrical wink.

I gape at the director, at a loss. He
’
s
kidding, of course, but there
’
s only so much frat boy
humor I can take in one go. And I
’
m about to tell him as
much when a familiar face appears, coming to the rescue as ever.

“What
’
re you two talking about?”
Jack asks over Rupert
’
s shoulder. He
’
s appeared in the door of his own dressing room, which is right
next door to mine. Perfect timing.

“Just telling Callie how happy I am to have her on board,”
Rupert smiles broadly. I notice that his entire demeanor shifts the second a
man enters the conversation. Not a sign of a great person, that.

“Yeah. Just shooting
’
the shit,” I say,
putting Jack
’
s body between mine and the director
’
s.

“It
’
s working out great, isn
’
t it?” Jack beams, throwing an arm over my shoulders. His
embrace puts me at ease in an instant.

“Get out of here, you crazy kids,” Rupert tells us, turning
to go, “Make sure Callie doesn
’
t get into too much trouble
this weekend, Jack. You know how these Benson girls can be.”

I grit my teeth to keep from snapping and march quickly into
my dressing room.

“Is he always like that?” I ask Jack, changing into my
street clothes behind a screen as he closes the door behind him.

“As far as I can tell,” Jack replies, “He
’
s
got a bit of a reputation for being a creep, but I think he
’
s
more or less harmless.”

“Mhmm,” I murmur, stepping out of my cocktail dress and into
some jeans. I
’
m not at all convinced that Rupert
’
s randy attitude is all that harmless, actually—but I
’
m too beat to deal with it right now.

“Hey. I know what
’
ll make you feel
better,” Jack says as I step out from behind the screen and start gathering my
things.

“Three pounds of dark chocolate and a good, long nap?” I
offer.

“I was actually going to say ‘A night on the town
’
,” Jack laughs, back in his standard uniform of jeans and a
tee. “But whatever floats your boat...”

“A night on the town...With you?” I stammer, taken off guard
by his suggestion. These past couple of weeks, we
’
ve had
zero down time to spend together away from the set. Even though our rooms at
The Rogue are right next door to each other, there hasn
’
t
been a spare moment for any quality alone time. Ironic, seeing as most of our
work day involves rolling around in our unmentionables together.

“Yes, with me,” Jack laughs, “Unless you have some other
boyfriend to entertain?”

My attention snags on the word
boyfriend
,
but I shake it off.

“Nope. No other paramours I need to attend to,” I tell him,
“I
’
d love to spend the night with you Jack.” He raises his
eyebrows as I desperately try to backpedal. “I just meant...You know...Like you
said.”

“You
’
re looking a little flushed there,
Callie,” Jack teases, taking a step toward me, “You feeling OK? Or have you
suddenly come down with foot-in-mouth syndrome?”

“I spent the day buried in a fur coat,” I dodge, “Of course
I
’
m overheated. Cut me some slack. And yes, a night out
would be great. I need to blow off some steam.”

“It
’
s a date then,” Jack says, sending
another rush of excitement through me.
Is
it a date? Like a
date
date? I need to stop reading into every little word he says, or I
’
m
gonna drive myself nuts. But it
’
s not just his words that
have me hoping for a breakthrough. Something
’
s been
shifting between us these past couple of weeks, something major. Maybe tonight
we
’
ll finally have a chance to talk about it.

Or even
act
on it?

Down girl
, I think to myself. Best not to get my
hopes up until I know where we stand. For all I know, Jack could want me to be
his wingman tonight while he scores some hot New York City babes. Still, it
’
s hard to keep the giddy, hopeful grin off my face as Jackson
and I call a car to share a ride back to the hotel.

Stepping out of the studio together, we
’
re
instantly beset by the flashing bulbs of paparazzi cameras. It
’
s
strange how quickly I
’
ve become accustomed to the media
’
s presence. I guess I still feel like I
’
m
playacting, even when the cameras aren
’
t rolling. Surely,
these reporters aren
’
t hanging around waiting for me. And
yet—

“Callie!”

“Over here Callie!”

“Give us a smile Callie!”

They chirp my name incessantly as Jack and I slide into the
town car.

“Don
’
t they have more important people
to bother?” I wonder aloud, looking back at the pack of photographers as we
pull away.

“You
’
re the woman of the hour. Everyone
wants to know more about the mysterious Callie Benson,” Jack replies, his eyes
fast on my face. “There
’
s no one more important than
you...In my very biased opinion, that is.”

I feel my heart fly into my throat as he reaches for my hand
on the leather seat, lacing his fingers through mine. After all the time we
’
ve spent wrapped up together on set these past two weeks, how
can such a small touch somehow feel so intimate?

“I just want you to know,” Jack murmurs, his voice low and
earnest, “I
’
m really proud of you, Cal. You
’
ve
been incredible these past couple of weeks.”

“Oh, you know,” I laugh, blushing fiercely, “All in a day
’
s work.”

“Don
’
t downplay it,” Jack insists
firmly, “You
’
re doing an amazing thing, here. Stepping
into the movie, dealing with the press, not to mention maniacs like Miriam
Blake and Rupert Davies. All while coming to terms with what
’
s
happened to Ave. You
’
re unbelievable, Callie.”

“Though hopefully, you can
’
t say the
same thing about my acting,” I kid.

“No,”
Jack smiles at me,
“Your acting
is
very
believable. Remarkably so, now that you mention it.”

“Thank you Jack,” I say softly, as he tightens his fingers
around mine. “That...That really means a lot, coming from you.”

“Well, I really mean it,” he murmurs, tucking a platinum
lock of hair behind my ear. His fingertips brush against my cheek as our eyes
lock firmly, a charge of electricity sparking through our shared gaze. I can
feel my lips tilting up toward his. Our bodies are so attuned, now. So
incredibly in sync.

“Jack,” I begin, gathering up my courage, “There
’
s, uh, something I wanted to talk—”

But before I can go on, the car comes to a smooth stop in
front of The Rouge. The spell of the moment is broken once again as our driver
comes around to open the car door. So much for having that capital “T” t
alk
with Jackson about where we stand. It
’
ll just have to wait
until later tonight, I guess. Just thinking about having Jack to myself for an
entire evening is enough to put me in a good mood.

“
Never mind,
” I say lightly, moving to
untangle my hand from his as I climb out of the car. “I
’
ll
tell you later.”