Mal rolled his eyes. “So of course this wise guy takes advantage to sneak up here after hours.”
“Hey, your park is in safe hands.” Elliot laughed.
“Only because I trust you.” Mal turned his eyes to me. “You, I do not know. But if you’re Elliot’s girl, then, fine, you get a pass.”
“Oh, I’m not …” I rounded on Elliot. “Do you bring a lot of women up here?”
Elliot’s eyes bulged. “Mal. Come on.”
“Hah. He wishes.” Mal snorted. “Anyway, you gotta get out of here. I clocked your clumsy asses scaling the wall ages ago. I gave you as much time as I could but if I just left you up here all night and then my supervisor sees the feed? I’m out of a job. Ineedthis job.”
“Say no more.” Elliot patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll get out of here.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “This really is a beautiful park.”
“Oh, I know,” Mal said. “But it’s kicking-out time. I got a crew coming in a couple hours to fix some railings before the park opens.”
“All right.” Elliot and Mal exchanged effusive bro-hugs, then Mal escorted us to the nearest street exit. Soon enough we were strolling down Tenth as if we hadn’t just committed breaking and entering. Exhaustion was finally beginning to creep in, weighing down my limbs and making my head foggy. But it wasn’t just tiredness that was wrecking my brain. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mal hadn’t interrupted us, what had Elliot been about to tell me?
“This is you, right?” He stopped, pointing to my apartment block just yards away. A streetlight shone through his hair, creating a golden halo that threw his cheekbones into sharp relief.
“This is my street, yes.” We lingered, neither of us willing to part. “Thanks for showing me your thinking spot.”
“Mysecretthinking spot,” he corrected with a soft laugh.
“Right. Secret.” I was startled by a surprise yawn. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He stepped away respectfully and every molecule in my body yearned for him to move back. “It’s been a long day. You should rest.”
“Of course. You’re right.” I idly wondered what he would say if I invited him in for terrible instant coffee.
“I think we understand each other a little better though,” he said with a yawn of his own so powerful he had to stretch, causing his shirt to lift and reveal that torso and a dark line of hair trailing south.
“We do? I mean, we do.” Although I wasn’t sure he would be so gracious if he knew the thoughts racing through my head at the sight of his abs. “I need a cold shower” His face twisted in surprise, and I realized I’d said those words out loud. “I mean, because I’m so wrecked. So tired.” I might impress Elliot Fox but he had the ability to ruin me and that was dangerous. I needed to look into a mirror and repeat a mantra about the perils of lusting after colleagues.
“Right,” he said. “Well, see you tomorrow.” He showed no signs of walking away, so I gave him an awkward wave and somehow made my wobbling legs function enough to take me home.
Elliot stayed, silhouetted under the lamplight, until I walked through the door of my apartment building.
Chapter Twenty-One
After my late night on the High Line with Elliot, I’d been looking forward to a relative lie-in the following morning; until RJ fed back on the work we’d emailed the day before, we were at something of a loose end. But a 7 a.m. call from Michelle inviting me to shadow her on a photocall with Sol Rodrigues and the rest of theAll Kinds of Killingtalent was too tempting to resist.
And that was how I ended up on a rooftop in downtown Manhattan, enduring chilly spring winds as I watched the team setting up. A large navy square of carpet had been laid in the corner for RJ and his cast to stand upon once they arrived, with the city skyline sprawling behind them. There was a smattering of lights and reflector foils arranged around the carpet, with a couple of assistants on hand to tweak to the photographers’ commands. Bang in front of the staging area were the photographers themselves, hand-selected from various publications and agencies to take the formal shots of RJ and his team. After the shoot, the images would be in all the relevant outlets, generating clicks and conversation in the name of getting eyeballs on RJ’s movie.
Michelle moved easily around the space, radiating girl-boss power in a chic black suit. Finally, when she was happy, she winked at me. “Right, now let’s bring up the talent.”
I followed her to the roof access door, and we made our way downstairs to what was dubbed the green room, an area where the talent could relax as they waited to get on with the task of taking photos. It was cosy, with squashy sofas and a craft table loaded with all their favorite snacks, including some incredible-smelling bagels. Sol Rodrigues was already there along with her castmates Jason and Cy, as well as all their entourages. But no RJ. Vivian was supposed to have escorted him here already.
“Lucita!” Sol greeted me, looking otherworldly in a fitted olive dress.
I tried to act cool at the revelation a genuine movie star not only knew who I was but had already bestowed me with an affectionate nickname. I managed a goofy grin in return.
“Good morning,” Michelle said. “We’re ready to go up if everyone could follow me.” As the actors readied themselves to leave, the green room door opened, and Ralf swaggered in, closely followed by RJ.
“I thought Vivian was bringing RJ,” Michelle said bluntly.
“She asked me to sub in at the last minute,” Ralf said smoothly. “I think Baldemar’s hip fell off or something.” He shifted his attention to Sol and reached to take her hand. “Ralf Fisher, I’m one of RJF’s producers.”
