PROLOGUE
Eight years ago
Lilah Hunter knew better than to get her hopes up. The odds of booking something her first pilot season were slim, and even if she did, the odds of it getting picked up were even slimmer. The week before, she’d made it to the final round of callbacks for a sitcom about a group of hot young singles in some unspecified city, only to find out today she hadn’t gotten it, while en route to the audition she was currently in the waiting room for.
This one seemed like even more of a long shot: co-lead of a network drama, not just a supporting character or part of an ensemble. Like most roles she was sent out for, she knew almost nothing about the show itself, other than the title (Intangible),her character’s name (Kate), and the name of the other lead (Harrison). She’d read for it twice already, doing her best to piece together a coherent characterization out of the context-free scenes she’d been given. Whatever she’d done must’ve worked, though, since she’d made it all the way to the chemistry round.
There were six of them there: two other potential Kates and three Harrisons, all pretending they weren’t sizing one another up. At this stage, they knew it wasn’t about their individual performances anymore; it was about finding the right combination that was greater than the sum of its parts. Lilah had gotten this far on her own, but her future withIntangiblehinged on her ability to find—or fake—an instant, palpable connection with at least one of the three random strangers sitting across from her.
But no pressure.
The other two Kates looked around her age, early to midtwenties, but otherwise seemed superficially varied enough that it was obvious the creative team didn’t have any particular type in mind. The prospective Harrisons were fairly different, too, other than checking all the basic boxes to qualify as TV handsome.
As soon as she’d walked in, her eye had immediately been drawn to one Harrison in particular. There was something less coiffed and groomed about him than the other two, less obviously telegraphing his aspirations to be a professional Beautiful Person.
Hewasbeautiful, though. Long legs, long lashes, dark hair that fell over his forehead without reaching his eyes. Not just beautiful, but attractive, too—which weren’t always the same thing. In her brief time in L.A., she’d already met more than her share of conventionally hot people with the charisma of a rock.But there was something magnetic about this guy, something compulsively watchable, even as he sat there doing nothing. Maybe it was his aura of quiet confidence, out of place in a room full of people quivering with nerves.
He caught her staring at him and held her gaze before flicking his eyes over her in an appraising look that stayed just on the respectful side of leering. To her surprise, she felt her heart rate speed up slightly, her cheeks heating. She looked away so she wouldn’t have to see him see her blush.
Maybe she didn’t need to worry about faking the chemistry, after all.
Macy, the casting director, came out into the lobby with a clipboard. “Well, hel-lo,everyone,” she said, beaming. “Thank you so much for coming back in today; we’ll do our best to keep things moving.”
She went on to explain how the six of them would be paired off and rotated so each Kate would get the chance to read with each Harrison, but all Lilah took away from it was that she’d be going last: both a blessing and a curse. Everyone would definitely be sick of hearing the scene by then, but at least she had the chance to leave the final impression.
As the first potential Kate and Harrison stood and followed Macy into the hallway, Lilah pulled the sides out of her purse. They’d already been folded and unfolded so many times that the paper had softened, in danger of slipping off the staple. She knew these lines backward and forward, but auditioning had never been her strong suit, so it was impossible to be overprepared.
Nerves crackled through her, the pages trembling slightly in her hands, and she closed her eyes, trying to breathe through it. When she was calm enough to open them again, that sameHarrison was watching her. She felt her anxiety rush back, even more acutely than before. Was it possible chemistry could be abadthing in this situation, if he was messing with her focus before they’d exchanged a single word?
While they waited, the two remaining auditioners struck up a conversation, quiet murmurs punctuated by skittish, too-loud laughter. Lilah let herself meet his eyes again. He looked right back, one side of his mouth curving up, revealing a dimple.
Before she could figure out what, if anything, she wanted to say, Macy came out and called him in to read with one of the other Kates. When he came back, though, he sat down in the chair next to her.
She shot him a sideways glance, but he was intently studying the script in his hands. She returned to her own sides, embarrassed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fold up the pages, and when she looked back, he was looking straight at her, that dimple even more powerful up close.
“Hi,” he said.
She already felt another blush creeping up her neck. “Hi.”
“I’m Shane.”
“Lilah.”
She shook his hand, grateful he didn’t mention how cold hers must feel, thanks to the combination of her nerves and the overly air-conditioned room—especially in comparison to his.
“Where are you from?” she asked. “Your accent, I mean. Texas?” The twang in his vowels was subtle enough that she might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been taught to listen for it.
“Oklahoma.” He winced. “Is it that bad?”
“No, no. Not bad at all.” She bit her tongue before anit’s cutecould slip out.
“Where areyoufrom?”
“Philadelphia. Right outside.”
Shane’s grin returned, wider than before. “Oh yeah? Say ‘water.’ ”
She laughed. “Nice try. I just spent four years getting it trained out of me.”
