In the dark, she twisted in her seat, looking around the room. No sign of Nate. Any one of the dark-haired tuxedo-wearing silhouettes in front of her could have been him.
Music filled the small theatre, announcing the opening credits ofSt. Barnes Medical.
“I shot this sequence,” the woman next to her whispered, sitting up straighter, clearly proud of her camera work, and soshe should be. It was a beautifully shot sequence showing off the New Zealand rural landscape: vast yellow fields dotted with sheep, snow-tipped mountains in the distance. She hadn’t been sure what quality the show would be and was pleased to see the professionalism of it all. Hopefully, her amateur acting debut had been fixed up in post-production.
As she watched, all the moments on set working with the cast ran through her head. A pregnant mother panted through a contraction and Jess pictured herself just off camera, coaching her through it. She smiled in the dark, feeling proud of her own work.
A woman giggled behind her. “Bet he looks even hotter on the big screen.”
Jess’s breath caught as Nate appeared on-screen. The woman behind her whispered again to her friend, “Told you. I’d let him examine me.” They both laughed and were hushed by someone.
On screen, Nate spoke with a young couple, but Jess’s thoughts drowned him out. She was transported back to the cottage. Nate’s arms around her on the couch that night. Their bodies pressed up against each other. Pulling her close. His fingers in her hair. His bare chest. Their lips. Her pulse.
Then he was gone and the scene moved on.
Jess clutched the armrest beside her and tried to get her breath under control. That was embarrassing. Thankfully, the darkness hid her flushed cheeks.
If she reacted like that when he was on screen, how would she stay cool when he was right in front of her in person?
Once the show finished and the crowd filtered into the foyer, Jess quickly made a beeline for Laney, congratulated her, and headed for the front entrance, hoping to sneak out unnoticed. Itwas unlikely Nate had come all the way from London for a local premiere, but better safe than sorry. Clearly, she wasn’t over the guy and there was no point torturing herself.
“Jess! Wait up—”
Jess froze at the sound of the familiar voice, her lips instantly drying up with nervousness. She ran her tongue over them, tasting the unpleasantly thick lipstick Poppy had insisted on. So much for sneaking out.
His hand circled her arm and she turned slowly, unsure how her body would respond face-to-face with Nate again.
His eyes sparkled and flipped her insides into a Celtic knot, but he didn’t look like the Nate she’d fallen for. In a tuxedo, this version was every bit the movie star. Someone fake. A liar. A man who had misled her into thinking he was different from all the others, but he’d kissed her when he had a fiancée back home. A fiancée who looked just like her.
The remnants of lust she’d felt earlier in the theatre fell away as her hands balled into fists.
“Are you leaving already?” Nate asked. “Stay and—”
“Why?” she interrupted, her tone holding more bite than she’d expected. The anger was a surprise, but also a comfort. Safer than the disappointment she’d been wallowing in all day, that’s for sure.
She’d tried so hard. Tried to start over. To make changes. Avoid men and not be like her mother. She’d been trying to find the peace she’d had with her grandfather as a child, and instead what did she do? Fall for another guy who brought drama and chaos back into her life. An actor, no less. Poppy was right. She deserved better. Yes, she thought, locking her jaw tight; anger was a far better response.
“Do you need a stand in again for your fiancée?” she spat.
“What? No, I—” Nate stepped back, his eyebrows lifted.
“I saw a picture of Samantha and she looks like my twin.”
“Ah—” Nate dropped his hands to his sides.
She knew it. He’d seen it too. All this interest in her was just because he was on a temporary break from his fiancée. Or was the breakup a lie, too?
“When I first saw you, I actually mistook you for my ex.”
“So what is this?” she shot at him, suddenly furious. “Some kind of replacement strategy? You couldn’t have her, so you went for her doppelganger?” She stepped back and folded her arms, defensive. Protective. Tears threatened to spill, but she fought them down.
“I’m not keen on another acting role, thanks.” Her voice wavered, and she coughed to steady it; to hold on to her anger. This man would not make her cry. He would not break her heart.
“You’ve got the wrong idea. I don’t—”
“Nate, is this your fiancée?” A cameraman rushed toward them, followed by an overly made-up woman holding a pen and notebook. “Samantha, who are you wearing tonight? Can we get a photo of the two of you side-by-side?”
Jess shook her head at the reporter, her suspicions confirmed.
