I grin. “Here’s to a successful filming day.” I lift my fist, and Dawson gives it a gentle bump with his bright green alien knuckles.
“Thanks, Brinley.” Dawson’s eyes stay pinned on me. He takes a step closer. Confident. Assumptive. “Hey, I know you’re not into the whole…after party scene,” he says under his breath, “but I’d love it if you’d join us for some drinks at Marco’s Private Lounge tonight.”
A hot thrill shoots straight through my chest.
Whoa.
I’ve prided myself on my ability to remain unfazed and unintimidated by the celebrities I work with; until this moment, it hasn’t taken much thought. We’re in different worlds, after all, and everyone seems to respect that. Most are cordial, some move beyond politeness to encourage deeper, more meaningful communication, asking questions about when and how I got into the business. Was I married? Did I have any kids?
But none, until now, have crossed the barrier so completely.
My lips part, but I have no idea what, if anything, might squeak out. I’ve never felttoo closeto a client. In their personal space, if you will, since that’s where I live while I work. And though I’m further from him than I’ve been all day, I feel intimately closer.
“Don’t answer now,” he blurts. “I shouldn’t have asked you while in full makeup. It puts you at a disadvantage.” He puffs his chest and lifts his chin. “How does one possibly reject the handsome prince ofLunordian? “
I hurry to tuck the mirror back in place. “Indeed.” Though I can’t help but wonder how he knows I’m notabout that scene. Did he ask the crew about me?
“If you’d rather, we could do dinner. Just the two of us. Or drinks. Coffee, maybe? Coffee’s good. Everyone likes coffee.”
“Dawson, comeon!”comes a whiny voice from the set. I turn to see Buffy Fields standing in full alien makeup. She shoots a searing look at me before setting her narrowed eyes back on Dawson. “They’re waiting for us.”
“What do you say, Brinley?” he persists, not bothering to give Buffy so much as a glance.
I want to say no for the sure discomfort of it all. I can’t imagine going on a date with Dawson Cain. It sounds like too much pressure. But if Dawson’s late on the set because of me, that won’t look good. Plus, I sense that saying yes to him will make Buffy’s green skin go even greener with envy, and since I’m only human, I can’t resist the chance.
“Sure,” I finally say. “Why not?”
CHAPTER2
Brinley
Three years later; current day
The dreaded porch scene.
We all know it. It’s the reason I usually say no to dates. The evening itself—dinner, bowling, even dancing—thatI can handle. But this…
I hurry up my porch steps and reach for the door. “Thanks again for the nice evening,” I say as I pry the thing open.
My determined date, bless him, is right on my heels despite the fact that I told him goodbye in the driveway. “Thanks for agreeing to come with me.”
“Sure thing, Reynolds,” I say. “Your grandfather’s been talking about you since I moved in, so…” So I had to get him to stop somehow. That’s the tricky thing about neighbors; they’re hard to avoid.
I twist the doorknob, and Reynolds steps closer; like he’s preparing to go inside with me. “Well,” I say, determined to shake him, “I’ll see you later.”
His eyes go so wide he looks startled. “Do you mean that?”
My mind goes blank. “Meanwhat?”
Reynolds drags a hand across his forehead. “That you’ll see me later.”
Wow. “Umm, if you’re at your grandfather’s place I will. Maybe. From my yard…”
Reynolds’s face falls flat for a blink, but he fixes it soon enough. “Is it true you dated Dawson Cain?”
And there it is. The question the guy’s been tiptoeing around all night. Yes, he asked about my work on the movies he’d seen, but Reynolds was most definitely prying when he pressed me about the alien makeup I did for Dawson.
“We broke up two years ago,” I say.
