“Thank you. Any chance you’re available to play my love interest in my next romantic comedy?”
She tuts. “My romance needs to have a little drama in it. Make it a romantic drama and I’m in.”
“That can be arranged.” I wink, making her giggle.
My eyes move to my latest obsession. “Hello, Ivy.” My voice deepens, even though it wasn’t intentional. She just has that effect on me.
“Andreas,” she replies, doing shit to me I’m sure she’s not even aware of.
“I believe we have a lunch date on the schedule.”
“Whoa,” Lillian says at the same time Ivy’s eyebrows spike.
I decide that I like the surprised look on her. Truth be told, I like any expression on her face as long as it’s pointed in my direction.
“That’s my cue to leave. Bye.”
I don’t take my eyes off of Ivy as Lillian walks away. Ivy looks as if she wants to follow her, but I use my body to block her escape.
“It’s been a busy week,” I tell her by way of apology. “But today I’ll have time for that lunch date.”
“Date?” She shakes her head. “This can’t be a date. We’re both working and that’s it.”
I take her hand, which stops her ranting. “It’s a lighter day of filming for me. Lunch is being catered at twelve-thirty. Meet me in my trailer.”
I nod at the third row of trailers to make sure she knows which one is mine. “My name’s on the front. I’ll see you there.”
“Andreas,” someone calls from behind me.
I love my job but dammit if it didn’t piss me off right now for interrupting the only time alone I’ve gotten to have with Ivy aside from that all too brief phone call a few nights ago.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.” I squeeze her hand and then head off to film my portion of today’s scene.
Ivy
“What are you doing?” Lillian startles me just as I’m finishing up steaming the left pant leg of a pair of jeans.
“What does it look like?” I gesture toward the steamer.
She sucks her teeth. “The entire crew just went on lunch break. It’s twelve-thirty.”
I give her a blank stare.
“A certain star of the damn movie asked you to meet him for lunch.”
“Lillian, I?—”
She holds up a hand. “Listen, even though I’m about fifteen years older than you, and way too young to be your mother, youclearly need some direction from an older woman. Today that woman is me.
“When Andreas Knight invites you to have lunch with him, you don’t leave a man like that hanging.” She tries to pull the steamer from my hand, but I tug it back.
A couple of rounds of tug-of-war ensues before I give up, releasing the damn thing.
“Stubborn,” she mutters. “Go.”
“But there’s so much that needs to be done.”
“And it’ll be here after lunch. Get out. Now.” Her tone is so sharp that it makes me flinch.
