Apparently not.
My face flames as I stare back at Nate Jackson and some hot old guy offering me a position in a movie.
Could this week get any crazier?
If I wasn’t currently hiding from the world, the answer would still be no. I might have lost my dress, then later my panties, but I haven’t lost the anxiety that plagues me when I’m under the spotlight or forced to socialise with strangers.
About forty or fifty actors, producers and cameramen stare at our bizarre exchange. I imagine being coerced in amongst them. Absolutely no way.
‘Er, thank you, but no.’ I tug Tootsie away from the two men, but the little hussy doesn’t want to go. Instead of following me, she nuzzles her furry cheek against Nate’s black leather boots. His biceps flex beneath his cashmere jumper as he lifts her up into his arms. She licks his face and a deep rumbling laugh tumbles from his throat.
Swoon.
Bad enough he’s Hollywood’s hottest actor, and the best ride I’ve ever had, or am ever likely to have again, but it seems he’s an animal lover too.
Panties ruined.
Again.
‘I’m Max Carter, the director. I’d love to have your pretty face as an extra in this movie,’ Mr Hot Old Guy says. His gaze drifts over my puffa jacket, like he’s imagining what might be beneath it.
Or remembering. Cringe. It’s no coincidence I look familiar. At the last count, my smut-tastic video has had over twenty million views.
‘Seriously, we need you on set, Holly.’ Max is still clutching my hand.
Nate watches on. A growl gurgles in his throat. It’s enough to set Tootsie leaping from his arms and directly back into mine. If looks could kill, Nate’s glower would leave Max bleeding out slowly in front of my eyes.
I’ve seen that glare before. It’s the one Nate uses in his action movies, when he finally catches the bad guy he’s been chasing for the past hour and forty minutes on the big screen, and he’s about to blow him to smithereens before carrying his woman off into the sunset.
If only.
Max finally drops my hand. ‘I know you. I know I do,’ he repeats with a puzzled shake of his head. ‘I just can’t place you.’
Ground swallow me fucking whole. Please do not say it in front of Nate. Oh, the shame.
‘I have one of those faces.’ I edge backwards towards the flimsy tape cordoning off the set.
‘So, will you do it?’ Max is persistent, I’ll give him that. ‘You can be a waitress, or one of the hotel’s guests. We really need you around.’ He eyes Nate meaningfully, but I have no idea what that meaning is. ‘Three grand a week, cash.’
Three grand? Is he for real?
I’m acutely aware I may be out of a job and my mortgage isn’t going to pay itself.
‘Three grand a week?’ I squeak. It’s a hell of a lot more than what I earn at St. Jude’s. If I even have a job to go back to.
‘I, err… I’m not sure it’s my thing.’ I glance between Nate, Max, and the direction of my car, a kilometre away.
Isn’t Nate freaked out that the girl he shagged and bolted from is currently being offered a position in his movie?
It’s probably not what he imagined.
The prospect of seeing Nate every day, of getting the chance to admire him in action, is really fucking tempting, even without the three grand. If I could just get over my nerves.
Nate steps forwards and catches my wrist. ‘What is your thing, then?’
Heat sears between us. ‘Action movies,’ I quip.
‘Funny.’ He leans closer until his face is a breath away from mine. His voice drops to a barely audible whisper. ‘Yeah, I recall you enjoying a bit of action the other night.’ His tone is teasing, playful.
