Starstruck: Hollywood Heat, Book 3 (16 page)

So Jenna had laid low—not that she’d ever planned on basking in that false limelight. Ricky and his roommates had let her crash on their couch, and Oscar had kept an eye on her place while she was gone.

Oscar had told her that Micah had called, texted, groveled, fallen on his sword and even stopped by her place trying to apologize in person. Oscar grudgingly respected Micah now. As he’d told her when she finally returned home last night,
Every guy fucks up, lady Jenna. It’s what we do. Most of us are too stupid to realize our mistakes or we make lameass excuses. The good ones apologize, the better men fix their fuckups and never stop apologizing. When you’re ready, give Micah a chance to make it right, yeah?

Stupid, stupid pride. It was what had caused her to storm out of Micah’s house on Sunday morning. Of course she’d been hurt and angry too, but her darn pride had wanted to prove Micah’s accusations wrong by walking away and not looking back. Ever.

Ever hadn’t lasted very long. She’d let one heated, senseless moment wreck them, when they’d had five awesome days before that. She wished he’d text her a ridiculous joke or call her and say
hi, I miss you, I’m sorry, why’d you run away?
Except he couldn’t do any of those things, since she had a new phone with a new number that she hadn’t shared with him. If she wanted to talk to him again, she had to swallow her stupid pride and make the first move.

This moping was not going to help her get the part. She picked up the pages and reread the first couple lines, where her character was happy, flirty, fun, then read another couple lines, where everything changed.

Jenna stopped reading. So much could change with just a couple lines of dialogue.

She dialed Micah’s number from memory, but the call went straight to voicemail. Of course, he was probably on set. She lowered her voice, shielding her mouth as she spoke into the phone. “Hey. It’s me. Oscar told me you called, but I…I couldn’t figure out what to say.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked away. Can we talk? Call me at this number if you want to. I hope you will. I…I miss you, Micah.”

She hit
end
and set the phone in her lap rather than in her bag in case he returned her call right away. The simple action of making contact with him again had her stomach butterflies doing happy, nervous cartwheels. Whatever happened next, at least she’d kicked her pride in the butt and was moving forward.

Closing her eyes, she mentally ran through the script, her lines, her emotions, her actions. Halfway through, the phone buzzed, followed by the receptionist saying, “Jenna Byers, they’re ready for you now.”

“Thanks.” She got to her feet, turned off her phone—hoping she’d have a voicemail from Micah once she got out of the audition—and tossed it in her bag.

Show time.

With a spring in her step she walked down the hallway, third room on the left, and pushed open the door.

And froze.

Micah was in the audition room, leaning over the table and talking to the casting director, Alan, and the other man and woman who were seated behind him. Those were the producers she needed to wow with her performance, though that might be tricky considering the only thing she could focus on right now was Micah.

He was wearing a T-shirt and slacks, looking so similar to the way he’d dressed for their date on Saturday night her heart stuttered at the memory. He stood there casually, or maybe that was just an act, because the moment his eyes locked on hers, his face became an open book, everything he was thinking laid out for her to read, and it matched her emotions to a tee. Pleasure, regret, need, guilt, sorrow.

Love.

“Hey, Jenna, great to see you again.” Alan stood from his seat, and she shifted her gaze to him. Just because Micah was here—and what was he doing here?—didn’t mean she could zone out and make googly eyes at him. She needed to get her mind back in the audition.

“Hi, Alan.” She set her purse next to the rehearsal chair in the center of the audition space—she’d use it later—before shaking Alan’s hand. “Thanks for having me back.”

“This is Micah. You’ll be reading with him today.” Alan gestured to Micah, who stepped forward.

Automatically, Jenna reached for Micah’s outstretched hand. “It’s wonderful to see you, Jenna,” he said, taking her hand in his warm, solid grip, lingering in the handshake longer than customary.

“Micah.” She wanted to say so much more, but not now, definitely not in front of their audience, so she added a smile and hoped that said enough.

“Okay, Jenna,” Alan said. “You were great last time. Let’s do it again. This time, you know this doctor, you two have a history, though you haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Got it. Thank you.” Jenna nodded. She could work with this direction, no problem.

“When you’re ready.” Alan sat back, arms folded over his chest.

Jenna dropped into character, right into the scene. She sank onto the chair, legs crossed at the ankle in front of her, fingers tapping on the armrest. Impatiently waiting.

The doctor entered but stopped just inside the room, like he didn’t want to be there.

“Hey, stranger.” She tipped her head to the side, appreciating him from head to toe. She was a woman who’d never stopped loving him, even after he’d married her best friend, but the years apart had given her a subtle confidence when dealing with him. “I know it’s been a few years and a divorce since I’ve seen you, but I gotta wonder why Sonya didn’t try harder to hold on to you.”

“Cat, don’t.” His voice was ragged.

She pushed to her feet. “Don’t what? Wonder why my best friend left the hottest doctor in all Boston? Okay then. How about I wonder where my best friend is. Did she send you as my consolation prize? You’d think with me returning home after a couple years sabbatical saving the world, she might actually ask for a night off work so she could be on time for our girls’ night out. But that’s Sonya for you. Work first, ex-husband and best friend way down on the priority list. It’s a wonder why either of us love her. Or used to in your case.”

“Dammit, Catherine, stop talking for two minutes and let me…” He trailed off and lifted his head to stare at her, his eyes so tortured it took her breath away.

She moved toward him automatically, drawn to him like she always had been. This wasn’t like him though. “What’s going on?” Her confidence faltered and she swallowed. “Where’s Sonya?” She looked past him, as though expecting Sonya to saunter into the room, making a grand entrance and commanding everyone’s attention like she always did.

No one else entered.

“Is she in surgery?” she forced out. Why else would Sonya be this late?

“She was,” he whispered. “Not anymore.”

Cat lifted her hands in an exasperated gesture, turning from him, pacing to the wall and back. “Then where is she? I’ve been waiting for her for two hours, and that’s late even for her.”

“There was an accident. Bus crash. A pregnant woman was trapped and went into labor. Sonya was called to the site to help because they couldn’t get the woman out and the baby was in distress. Sonya saved the baby, but the mother was still trapped.”

“Okay, well that’s a good excuse for missing pre-dinner cocktails. We can hit up a bar or five instead, two single girls on the prowl, having fun. When will she be here?” She grabbed her purse off the floor next to the chair, ready to leave and get her night started.

He continued like she hadn’t even spoken. “The bus wasn’t stable, hanging over the edge of a ravine. The rain, the mud, made everything slick. Emergency personnel told Sonya to leave. But she didn’t listen. She never listened.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “The bus crashed to the bottom of the ravine. It took them hours to get her out. They choppered her back here, but…”

She walked toward him, afraid to get too close, afraid to be far away, afraid for him to finish his story. “But she’s okay, right? She’s gonna pull through. She’s strong. You know how strong she is. She has to pull through.” Her voice bordered on hysterical. “Can I see her? When can I see her?”

The doctor—no, not a doctor right now, this was her friend standing in front of her—looked at her, hopeless, broken. “I’m sorry. I tried everything. Her skull was crushed, the damage too extreme.” In a fury he turned and slammed his fist into the wall, a ragged cry ripping from his throat. “I couldn’t save her. She’s…she’s gone.”

Her purse fell from her grasp as a single sob escaped from Cat. She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth to block the screamed denials and tears. He slumped against the wall, the burden of guilt eating him alive.

On shaking legs, she approached this man who’d loved her best friend and had now lost her forever. They shared that now, the loss, the pain. Staring into his guilt-stricken, tortured eyes, she traced shaky fingers over his beautiful face, soaking in his tears, and they both cried for all they’d lost.

“And…scene,” Alan called.

Taking a deep breath, Jenna closed her eyes for a second and fell out of character, trying to shed the heightened emotions of the scene. She peeled away from Micah, wishing she hadn’t lost the excuse to touch him, picked her purse up off the floor and faced the team who held her acting future in their hands.

Alan turned to the producers for approval. “Anything to add?”

The heavy-set blonde woman briefly conferred with the man sitting next to her before saying to Alan, “I think we’ve seen what we needed.”

“Okay then.” Alan offered his hand. “Thank you, Jenna. We’ll be in touch with your agent.”

Jenna returned the handshake. “Thank you for this opportunity and your time.”

She couldn’t stay, not after Alan’s dismissal, but still she glanced back at Micah. His lips softened, and he gave her a small nod before she stepped out of the room.

The hallway was empty, but her brain was full. Dazed, confused, and with the post-audition adrenaline making her feel like she’d downed five triple shots of espresso, Jenna made it to the elevator and punched the button for the parking garage.

What. Just. Happened? Had she just auditioned for a part on
Sexy M.D
.? What else could it be? With the number of medical dramas on television—not even counting the shows that had smaller medical subplots—she hadn’t let herself consider that would be the case. But now…

Had Micah set this up? Did he have the type of clout where he could get her pushed through the audition process?

If so…why? And what did it mean for her? For them?

Micah didn’t know the meaning of underwhelm, that was for sure.

She was chuckling when she exited the elevator into the dimness of the parking garage.

“I’ve missed your laugh.”

She turned, her laugh morphing into a smile for the slightly out-of-breath man emerging from the stairwell. “Hey, stranger.” Realizing she’d unintentionally mirrored the opening lines from the earlier scene, she went with it, tipping her head to the side, appreciating him from head to toe. She was a woman who’d never stopped loving him, but the last few minutes had given her a subtle confidence when dealing with him. “I know it’s been a few days, a breakup and an audition since I’ve seen you, but I gotta wonder why I didn’t try harder to hold on to you.” She paused, fidgeting with her purse strap. “I hope you’ll respond with something other than a
Jenna, don’t
.”

“Jenna, don’t…” If Micah hadn’t lightened his tone, she might’ve worried, but he continued on, more seriously. “You’re not the one who should’ve tried harder. I’m so sorry, Jenna. So damn sorry. If I could do that day over, if I could take back the awful things I said… I never should’ve doubted you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you. I want this job for you. I want to support you in whatever you do, whether you’re doing dinner theater every night or making twenty-four million a picture. I just want to be with you.”

She tightened her hand around her purse strap to keep from reaching for him and accepting all the promises he was making. Talk first. Make-up and make-out session later, she hoped. But first she needed to know, needed
him
to know… “How many favors did you have to call in to get this audition for me? Not that I’m not appreciative, but I never expected you to—”

“No, Jenna.” He was shaking his head before she could even finish her sentence. “I know you didn’t expect anything. I wish I could say I did more, wish I was the hero you deserve, but all I did was get your name on the list. You did everything else. You wowed casting. You made it to callbacks. I didn’t even know if you’d made it this far until I showed up today and saw your name.”

“I take it Dr. Dale isn’t getting killed off the show?”

“No, they’re killing off Crystal’s character instead. The part you just read—they’re hoping for a new love interest for Dr. Dale.”

“Love interest?” She raised an eyebrow. So many possibilities implied in those two words. “So that audition…was that a chemistry test?” And how had his chemistry been with yoga girl and the other two actresses?

“Yeah…” He looked a little uncomfortable now. “Jenna, you know I’m an asshole—I’ve proven that often enough—but I couldn’t handle the thought of never seeing you again. Getting your name on the list was a completely selfish act. I did it because if you get this part, I’ll get to spend time with you whether or not you want to see me. But I’ll keep it professional if that’s what you want.”

“Micah, check your voicemail.”

“What?”

She nodded encouragingly. “Check your voicemail.”

Brow furrowed, he dragged his phone from his pocket and did as she asked.

When he was done he slipped the phone back into his pocket and stepped closer to her. “So, you missed me?”

“I did.”

“And you want to talk?”

“I think we covered that already. Can we kiss instead?”

A grin hit his lips about zero point two seconds before her mouth did. His strong arms surrounded her, pulling her to him until they were seamed together. She cradled his face like she had during the audition, palms smoothing over his stubble-rough cheeks, but this time there were no tears from either of them. Just hope and love.