“But he is her employer.” Elle pointed out. “If she didn’t need to hide her true identity, she would slap his face. But he has all the power. If she censures him, she’d be risking her livelihood.”
Mr. Dodd scowled. “True.” He paced the short length of the office. “But he is the hero and he acts more like a villain here. We’ll redeem him in the end of course, and I’ve seen this in other plays…”
Elle exhaled. And then finished his thought out loud. “But a truly wonderful hero ought to know better than to maul the new chamber maid.” She’d struggled with the concept herself. Could a true hero possess a few villainous tendencies?
The play was something of a comedy.
But it was also a love story.
“The heroine is attracted to him.” Elle spoke out loud but partly to herself. “If she can show this somehow…”
Mr. Dodd was nodding.
“Without appearing to have loose morals. It’s a fine line,” he said. “Let’s try it again. We’ll start where she slips off the ladder and Pudding saves her.”
Elle turned to face the wall again, allowing Mr. Dodd to take his place behind her.
“She’ll actually fall off the ladder,” Elle stated. “Onstage.”
“Yes. But this will have to suffice for now.”
This time she was prepared when his hands landed on her waist—and she still couldn’t control her breathing.
“Relax against me. Tilt your head back as though you can’t help yourself.”
With flutters in her chest, Elle followed his instructions. “Like this?”
“Yes. And don’t frown until Pudding speaks.”
Elle’s heart raced. His breath stirred the loose tendrils of her hair, and she was helpless in preventing the shiver that ran through her.
Because in this moment, she couldn’t quite convince herself he was a fictional character.
Yes, he was pretending to be the Earl of Pudding, but in reality, he was Carter Dodd, gentleman and larger-than-life director.
“That’s perfect.” Did his voice sound more gravelly than usual? Elle inhaled, savoring his scent—that subtle cologne she sometimes recognized in her dreams.
“Careful there, little thief.” He was the Earl of Pudding again.
Elle straightened her back, and this time when she pulled away, he relaxed his hands.
“I must return to my chamber, my lord. Please forgive me for intruding,” Elle said, instead of the original line.
“That’s better.” Mr. Dodd stepped back to write a note on the script. “That’s the tension we want.” And then he was behind her again. But he stood a respectful foot away, his hands at his sides.
“You might as well make a selection before returning to your bed.” Mr. Dodd read Pudding’s line, but with some additional embellishment. “Did you see something you wanted?”
Was he asking her if she wanted him?
“Pardon?” Elle’s heart thumped so loud she was sure he could hear it. She twisted around and found him watching her with his usual enigmatic stare.
“A book?” He answered. “Pudding doesn’t want her to leave empty-handed. Of course, it’s also ambiguous…”
It was a line! In the play! But of course, he wasn’t asking Elle if she wanted—as in wanted—him.
Elle blinked. How was it that a simple touch sent her thoughts in so many inappropriate directions?
He was her employer! Keep your mind on the play, Elle.
