EnjoytheShow

Erika
Almond

Steamy Love Scenes, Book One

After finding out her boyfriend’s been unfaithful, Josie
heads to the movie theater to cool off from the summer heat and her blazing
temper. She has no idea how steamy things are about to get. When hot and
handsome actor Miles sits next to her in the empty balcony, he and Josie make
their own X-rated film. But more than clothing is shed during their risqué
matinee, and Josie may find her drama being re-scripted as a love story—if
she’ll let Miles be her new leading man.

A Romantica®
contemporary
erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Dedication

For my co-star, H.

Acknowledgments

My thanks go to my editor, Beverly, and everyone at Ellora’s
Cave for putting a vivid imagination to good use.

I was glad I’d told him to leave. As I stood down the road
from my cottage, on the corner where town began, I heard myself say again what
I’d told him.
Get. Get your shit, get out of my house and get out of my
life.
That was exactly what should’ve been said to a cheating weasel and if
there was any relief to be had from the heat of our argument or the blistering
midday sun, it was that I’d said exactly what I wanted to say. I wasn’t
standing here wishing I’d said it.

But now I was on the street in the sizzling early afternoon
glare with nowhere to go. He was back at our place—
my
place—packing his
crap, and I wasn’t about to hang around watching him, not after he told me he’d
been with her. Was the sun really beating down on me that hard or was I just mad
as blazes? Not only at him, or that sophisticated bitch from the real estate
office, with her fitted suits and pricy-smelling perfume and her hair always
blown out just so. She was exactly the kind of woman he’d always said he was
glad I wasn’t.

She was supposed to show us houses to move into together.
When I got behind with work because he was dragging ass about every single
place, he started checking out the places without me. Looking back, the signs
had been there, him going off with her alone, drawing it all out.
Nah,
Josie, this one’s not worth your time. I’ll keep looking. If I see a place
that’s right for us, I’ll call you to come on over.
I never got that call.
He’d probably been fucking her brains out in every dream kitchen I hadn’t
gotten to see. No, I wasn’t as hellfire mad at either of them as I was at
myself, for being too love-drunk to see clearly.

Truth be told, I didn’t leave him to pack on his own because
my pride had been sucker-punched, or so I could make a dramatic exit after a
good and well-delivered f-you line. I left to keep myself from going to bed
with him. Now, if a friend told me she was afraid of fucking the boyfriend
who’d just said he’d cheated on her, I’d have thought she was either stupid
beyond reason or completely cock-whipped. Like I was. Sometimes I think it was
the sex that kept me with him, because he wasn’t exactly what you’d call a
brilliant conversationalist or a winner in his chosen field, whatever that
might be this week. He was entirely cute, he was kind to puppies and what he
really had going for him was a look in his eyes that said he could make me feel
things I’d only read about. When he gave me that look, and when he walked over
with the swagger of a man who’s packing heat and knows how to warm a girl…
Well, I couldn’t trust myself, not even after being burned crisp at the edges.

So yeah, I had to get out of my sweet little
single-girl-again cottage before I tried to get in one last fuck with the man
who’d just fucked me over.

I reached back and pulled my long hair, which felt heavy
with the heat, off my neck. As I wove thick handfuls in a loose braid, finely
scripted words flashed at me from my inner forearm.
To thine own self be
true.
I knew I’d had that tattooed there for a reason. I’d felt the words
in my skin right before I told him and his tight jeans and his
let me fuck
you senseless
eyes to go to hell.

Okay, right on and you go girl and all that, but I couldn’t
stand here on this corner all the hot day long until the bastard was done and
gone. I flapped the skirt of my green sundress, needing a breeze. Damn, what
now? Not “what now” like, without him in my future, because I’d been fine
before him and I’d be fine without him. I loved him, I won’t lie about that,
but now I hated him so much I couldn’t even bring myself to say his name in my
head. No, what I meant was, what would I do now with the three or so hours it
would take that fool to get his things together and get them out of my place?

I couldn’t go to my folks’. An afternoon of Momma shaking
her head, clucking and saying
Josie, I told you he was all kinds of wrong,
wasn’t
what I needed. I didn’t know what, exactly, I might need, but that surely
wasn’t it. It was a tad early in the day for a cocktail, and that struck me as
something of a cliché, getting shitfaced over a bust-up with a cad. And anyhow,
I didn’t want to be hit on. A woman alone in a bar in the middle of the day was
catnip for no-accounts, and I’d just gotten rid of one of them. I couldn’t hang
out with any of my friends who worked regular jobs, and besides, I wasn’t in
the mood to admit that I’d been had.

What I needed was to cool off. I was hot from anger and from
this first of summer’s heat waves, the kind that made everything down the road
shimmer like a mirage. But my oasis was not in my imagination. There, just at
the end of the hill, was the Hawthorne Cinema Palace. I made a beeline for it,
my cowgirl boots drumming a determined beat on the pavement as I walked.

The town’s only movie theater was my haven as a kid. It had
barely changed since then, or since my folks were taken by their parents to
shows on Saturday nights, or when they spent hot summer afternoons at matinees.
That’s one of the things I like about Hawthorne. My town doesn’t always see the
need to keep up with the times. Aside from desirable updates like
air-conditioning, the ornate brick theater was an Art Deco beauty mostly
unchanged since it was built in the nineteen-thirties. I got a lift just
looking at it.

I also liked the way the bored-looking guy with the pencil
mustache at the ticket counter perked up as I walked to his booth. This bit of
male attention was a balm to a recently dumped female. I smiled and was about
to tell him to give me a random ticket ’cause I didn’t care what I saw when I
heard someone say, “Interested in a free movie?”

Just to the side of the ticket counter stood a woman about
my age, mid-twenties, with short-short blonde hair and dressed all in black.
She didn’t look as though she was from around here, maybe from New York City,
downstate. “Beg pardon?” I asked.

“Phoenix Films is screening a new movie called
Cabin
Fever
,” the woman explained. “Free ticket if you’ll just fill out this
opinion card afterward.”

That sounded like a deal to me. So, being hot and very
recently, involuntarily rendered single due to my boyfriend being a cheating
bastard, and therefore not really in the mood to choose a film, I said yes.

All I’d wanted was an air-conditioned place to sit in and be
left alone for a while and I got my wish. There were only two other souls in
the theater, an elderly couple in the second row. Well, who else would be at
the movies at noon on a weekday? School wasn’t out yet and most people work
during the day, unlike me, who works whenever. That’s one of the reasons being
a web designer suits me. I can do it when the creative urge strikes and then I
can do my paintings when I want too. Lately the web business was booming, which
was what got me thinking about a bigger place, especially if I was to share it…

Damn him to hell. Flushing with anger all over again, I
stormed up the stairs to the balcony. Maybe up there I could be alone.

The balcony was empty; good. Having a mild fear of heights,
I went to the third row from the overhang to the seat at the very farthest end,
next to the wall. I dropped my maroon fringed leather bag in the seat next to
me. I hoped this would be clear enough a message to anyone else who might come
in not to sit near me. I didn’t want to talk or be bothered.

I scootched down in the chair, grateful that one of the few
renovations the theater had made was to install plush new seats that leaned
back like recliners. The rest of the movie palace was a true atmospheric
theater of the thirties, made to look like a magical garden by a mash-up of
decor. Plaster reproductions of Greek statues stood by Roman columns flanking
the movie screen. Stuffed peacocks were nestled in silk ivy that curled around
candelabra lit by electric bulbs. Above, the domed ceiling was painted like the
night sky, complete with pin-light stars, but I couldn’t bring myself to look
up at it, fearing it would make my head swim. Even sitting, the illusion of
height made me feel unanchored. So I kept my eyes on my boots, which were
parked up on the armrest in front of me, and folded my arms against the first
chilly blast of air-conditioning.

This balcony felt like a second living room to me, and I
hadn’t thought until now that this might be something of a mixed blessing.
Ghosts of afternoons past began to play out like mini-movies, all the times I’d
come here as a teenager, first with girlfriends to look at boys, then with the
boys. This beautiful old theater had been the setting for those first tender
adventures with touch. I remembered the thrilling butterflies that came with a
boy’s hand traveling over my shirt to feel my breasts. Then under. A warm male
palm on my bare breast, his fingers squeezing with wonder, for the first time.
The memory brought that tummy flutter back as though it were happening right
now. The deep kissing, lips parted. Then the hand that had been so content to
make my nipples go hard with want got hungry for more forbidden fruit. Thinking
of Bobby Kincaid’s fingers exploring under my pink cotton panties made me bite
my lips. Those afternoons were sweet and so were the boys, who were eager and
wary, but ultimately more eager. Even now I could feel that lovely pull between
my legs at the thought of being touched here in the balcony of the movie
theater, where the thrill was all the juicier for the possibility of being
seen.

The creak of the door startled me out of my red-tinted
memories. Someone else had come in. Damn, I wouldn’t have the balcony all to
myself anymore. Force of habit made me turn to look, hoping this wasn’t someone
I knew.

He surely wasn’t.

I felt my lips part at the sight of him, because he was
something to see. Blonds aren’t usually my type, but I could really make an
exception for this handsome case. With the theater lights still on, I could see
that he was tall and built to do something good with his body, maybe score a
touchdown or carry damsels in distress. Broad chest, wide shoulders, arms
carved like sculpture by someone with an imagination I highly approved of. I
liked the cut of his jib, as my Aunt Lucille would say. Momma always said I
took after Lucille, and she always looked a bit worried when she said it.

His preoccupation let me keep feeding my eyes, and when I
could tear them away from his form I noticed he looked a tad dismayed. He’d
come in holding the large-size bucket of popcorn and soda with a bounce in his
step, as if he’d been anticipating something good. Now he was looking around
and seemed to deflate, if a guy that built could deflate any.

Stare too long, and with overheated eyes, and you’ll get
caught—as I was, now. He saw me and started walking down the steps toward me.

I turned quickly back to face the theater screen, though its
deep-red velvet curtains were still drawn closed. I’d been determined to spend
this time alone, shut off from all, especially men. I hadn’t included
male-model types in that shutdown, though.

He got to my row and then he kept going, up to the front,
where he looked down over the railing. I got the willies just watching him do
it. I’d never been able to look out over the balcony at the vast theater. Again
his muscle-rounded shoulders sagged and he let out a sigh. Then he turned to
me. “Are we just really early or something?”

“It’s midday on a Wednesday,” I answered. “What did you
want?”

“A crowd, I guess,” he said. I puzzled over that and his
seeming disappointment. He regarded me and started to smile, as though things
weren’t all as bad as they’d seemed a second ago. The feeling was infectious.
That blond hair fell straight and thick to his strong jaw, and the theater
lighting, though low, still made sure to point out sun-kissed highlights.

He climbed the steps to my row and looked at the seat next
to me. “Here’s the deal,” he began. “The kid at the concession talked me into
getting this huge-size popcorn because it was only fifty cents more.”

“A bargain,” I commented. I felt one corner of my mouth
tugging itself upward at the way he talked, even though I knew what he was
angling for.

“Or a sodium OD,” he countered. “I could ask for your help
with the popcorn, the soda, the chocolate-covered raisins. Or I could be a tad
more direct and admit that I hate seeing movies alone.”

“Then why’d you come alone?” I asked, wanting to draw this
out, see if he could keep being a mark above average in clever pickup talk.
Plus I liked the timbre of his voice. Dusky.

“I didn’t think I would be alone,” he said. “I thought there
might be some people here to see this thing.” He shrugged. “Bad time for a
screening, I guess. Shall I cut to the chase?”

“If you like.”

He nodded toward me. “That seat taken?”

I might’ve waited a moment to think about what I was letting
myself in for, but I hadn’t thought too much before I told the now-ex to go to
hell and how to get there. A good decision, by my standards. So I didn’t think
too much now before I took my bag off the seat next to me.

He came into my row, parked the popcorn, candy and soda on
the floor and sat next to me. Information came at me like songs on different
radio stations, each one too good to pick. His scent was clean and fresh, as
though the shower had been recent and the soap a dependable brand. I worked my
way up from the boots—worn-in black Fryes—to button-fly Levi’s that had clearly
been his friends for a while, then to a long-sleeved blue cotton tee with a V
neck that let me see a tease of honey-colored chest hair. I saved the face for
last.

The razor stubble, also honey-gold, on that strong jaw was
just enough that I could imagine what it might feel like, that good kind of
scratch that leaves a sign you’ve been kissed. His mouth was well designed for
the easy smile he was giving me and his straight white teeth seemed to like
being shown. His eyes, like the shirt, were sky-blue, and though I don’t tend
to use this word often, they were merry. They did a quick dance over me, same
as I was doing with him. I couldn’t tell for sure that he was thinking what I
was.
Whoa.
If not exactly that then close, from the pleased look on his
face.This guy was the kind of hot that in movies is supposed to be
average but in real life rates a nine. And that’s from a woman who doesn’t care
for blonds and had, just five minutes prior, wanted to shun all men.

He put out a hand. “Miles.”

“Josie.” I took my time sliding my fingers and palm against
his, knowing I’d like how it felt, not being at all disappointed. The way he
held my hand was perfect, polite, but with the warm clasp of interest.

He looked me over again in a way that was more appreciative
than overt. “You look like a Josie,” he said.

“What does a Josie look like?”

“If someone said ‘Josie’ to me, I’d think of dark-red hair,
like yours, and eyes that looked like…” A slow grin formed as he gazed at me.
“Like sparklers.” He stopped staring just in time. “And who wore boots like
those.”

I followed his glance to my beautifully worn-in brown boots,
just to cool things off a bit. I wasn’t sure I’d made the right
decision—flirting hadn’t been on the agenda when I came here—so I asked, “What
are you doing at the movies in the middle of the day?”

He settled back in his seat and looked toward the screen,
curtains still closed. “I guess you could call it work.”

I frowned. “You have something to do with the movie?”

“You could say that.”

“I could, or you could be a little less cryptic.”

He turned his handsome face back to me and smiled. “You’ll
see. What are you doing here? Off work today?”

The coffee filter between most people’s brains and their
mouths was never installed in me. I have a habit of telling the truth. “There’s
a situation at home.”

“I’m not the only one with a talent for being cryptic.”
Miles raised his eyebrows.

“I told the bastard to pack his things.”

Miles earned a few points by simply nodding with an
expression that said I didn’t need to go further. “If I were him, I’d listen,”
he commented. “Then again, I wouldn’t have done whatever warranted the heave-ho.”

“I should hope not,” I said, not wanting to elaborate.

The lights dimmed a tad and the curtains drew back from the
screen. This was when the theater was obliged to torment early guests with
commercials. Miles offered me the soda. I took it gratefully. I’d been in such
a state when I came in I forgot to get anything for myself. Now, it seemed, my
luck had taken a turn much like the smile at the corners of Miles’ mouth.

He put the huge bucket of popcorn in his lap and opened the
box of chocolate-covered raisins. He held them as if to tip the box into the
bucket and then he looked at me. “You mind?”

I smiled in admiration. “Well, that’s inspired. Sweet and
salty.”

He happily poured the candy in and shook the bucket to mix
it all up. “I can’t take the credit. My daddy taught me this trick. We used to
come here all the time.”

My brows knit. “You’re from around here?” He had a trace of
the lilting Mayfield drawl when he spoke, but Hawthorne isn’t too large a town
and I surely would have remembered someone who looked like Miles.

“Reynard,” he said, referring to the next town over, the
fancy section of Mayfield County. “No theater there. We came here until I was
twelve and my father got transferred to San Diego. Computer tech,” he supplied.

I took a handful of the popcorn and candy and adored the mix
of flavor and texture. If nothing else, Miles had teased my taste buds as well
as my eyes. “What are you doing back around here?”

“Visiting my folks. They moved back a few years ago,” he
answered. His lips wrapped around the soda straw like a kiss when he took a
sip. Then he looked at the straw. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know I was going
to need two.”

“Got cooties?” I asked. He shook his head no and held up two
fingers, scout’s honor. I took a sip of the soda, liking the idea of my lips
being where his had been.