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“You will?” Mary squeals, clapping her hands in delight. “Oh, honey, that would be perfect! I don’t think I could cast a better Darcy if I tried.”

Now that’s a first.

In all my years of acting, I don’t think anyone’s ever said my name and the word perfect in the same sentence.

Roman dips his head. His lips barely graze my ear. “Kira, you really don’t have to do this.” His voice drops to a low whisper that, once again, sends a wave of chill bumps over my skin.

Jesus, why is everything this man says so freaking hot? It’s like he’s not even trying.

I need to get a handle on this before I embarrass myself any further.

I make a mental note to stop by Adult Store and pick up a new vibrator first thing tomorrow morning. I haven’t been in myself, but Greer tells me they’ve got quite the selection. It’s a good thing, because I have a feeling if I’m going to survive the rest of this summer without throwing myself at my boss, then I’m going to need it.

The next thing I know, Mary’s arm is around my shoulder, and she’s leading me off to hair and makeup. “Let’s get you into character.”

“Are you sure it’s supposed to fit like this?” I tug at the restrictive garment as the sassy redhead works to sew me into it.

The infamous Miss Scarlett, owner of Ashford Falls one and only Adult Store, is somehow exactly as I imagined, but better. Full of personality and oozing confidence, she’s all gossip and no filter, yet disarmingly warm—my favorite qualities—and I find myself letting my guard down little by little.

“Oh yes, honey, this is perfect.” She gives my corset strings another hard yank, coaxing my breasts impossibly higher, then ties them off into a pretty bow. Placing a palm on my shoulder, she looks back at me in the mirror, like she’s admiring her work. “Now that’s how you wear a corset.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “You’re a little bustier than our original Darcy, but personally, I think it’s an improvement.”

“You don’t think it’s a little…much?” I bite my lip, looking down at my borderline indecent-fitting costume. I mean, it’s not like the whole world hasn’t already seen me topless or anything, but it feels a little risqué for a dinner theater.

Not that I’m judging because I think it’s perfect. I’ll give it to Mary. She really outdid herself with the costume designs.

“Honey, I don’t think anyone is going to complain about seeing breasts. Especially ones as perfect as yours. You know what they say, when you got it, flaunt it. Am I right?” She shimmies her shoulders and winks before moving on to help dress her next victim.

“All right, everyone, Act One is about to begin,” Mary says through a megaphone. “Where’s my Darcy and Mike?”

Her face lights up when she sees me, and her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness,” she gasps. “You look perfect! It’s even better than I imagined!”

A warmth spreads in my chest I don’t quite know what to do with. I’m a little taken aback by her enthusiasm.

Mary places a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you so much for helping me out with all of this. I know you probably have a million things you’d rather be doing tonight than working.”

“Oh, please, it’s no trouble at all.” I wave her off. “I’m happy to be a part of your debut performance.” I hold up the script. “This is really good. I don’t know how you managed to make it sexy, hilarious, and emotional. Are you sure this is your first play script?”

I’m not just being nice. I mean it. I’ve read tons of scripts, and none have kept me on the edge of my seat from the very first page.

I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something so magnetic about this woman, the way she’s fully embraced her authenticity. She’s cool without trying, living in the purest expression of herself. Bold, loud, and radiating happiness. She isn’t afraid of being judged or worried about how she’s perceived. Marguerite would love her.

I make a mental note to give her the full run-down during our next session.

Mary’s eyes crinkle with a smile. “Well, thank you. That means a lot, especially coming from you.”

A moment later, Guy turns the corner. “Hey, Mom, I think Miss Scarlett shrunk my sweatpants or something. They’re tight in the crotch—” He stops in his tracks when he sees me. “Damn.” His lips pull into a mischievous smirk. “Looking good, Darce.”

Mary swats him on the chest. “Guy Francis, where is your professionalism? Can you at least pretend to behave like a gentleman?”

“Sorry.” He uncaps a tube of ChapStick before giving his lips a quick layer. “Just so you know, I’m totally fine if you want to grope me. Just listen to your body and do whatever feels natural. And if you’re comfortable, I’m happy to do the sa⁠—”

I slap his stomach with the thick booklet of papers. “Why don’t we stick to the script?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “If that’s what you want. Just know I’ll make it work. You know, if you decide to change your mind.”

“All right, places everyone,” Mary says, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “It’s go time.”

I set down my script—the high points already committed to memory—and make my way into the dimly lit open dining room.