Chapter Eighteen #3
“Thanks,” she said. “And you might think it’s a pleasure now, but I’m on the publicity campaign diet – black coffee and fresh air.
It’s not easy. Without carbs, I transition into a rampaging bitch at a moment’s notice.
” Her publicist, a tanned woman with a permanently anxious expression suddenly leaned in.
“I’d just like to clarify, no one has put Sol on any diet,” she said quickly. “She maintains a healthy lifestyle.”
“My ass.” Sol snorted.
“Sol.” The publicist stepped between Sol and me. “We have to be very mindful—”
“Lucie won’t say anything, Naya,” Sol said. “She’s a professional lighting stand-in.”
“We have a code of honor and everything,” I said solemnly. “But if you need me to smuggle some contraband pizza in or something, I will totally do that.”
“Can you be at every junket of mine from now on?” Sol said, playfully.
“Let me survive this one first,” I said.
“Excuse me.” It was Elliot. “I just need to check the lighting.”
“This is your big moment,” Sol said, her eyes wide.
“Wish me luck,” I said, thrilling inside when she laughed.
“Sit.” Elliot pointed at one of the chairs.
“Did you see?” I hissed at him as soon as Sol was out of earshot. “I made her laugh.”
“Well done,” he said with a sigh. “But now, I need you to sit.”
“Like this?” I plopped down. “Do I do anything else?”
“You could try silence, if that’s possible,” he said, eyes intent on my face.
“Right.” I pressed my lips together. But the excitement was too much. “Did you hear her ask me to be at every junket of hers?”
Elliot heaved another sigh. “Too much shadow.” He shifted the fill light to his left.
“And she asked for my actual name,” I said with a little squeal.
“You know, if you’re going to work in movies, you have to not have an aneurysm every time you meet a famous actor.”
“I know,” I said. “But come on, she’s very cool, right?”
“She’s a star,” he admitted.
“So gorgeous too.”
“Eh.” He fiddled with the angle of one the lights and I snorted in disbelief.
“Come on, do not say you don’t find her sexy.”
Elliot stopped fiddling. “I don’t think there are many ways to answer that question that won’t get me into trouble.” I raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head. “She’s hot, I get it, but she’s not my type. Can you lift your head more?”
“Are you for real?” I said with a laugh.
“I like my women like I like my coffee,” he said with a comedic drawl as he checked my appearance on the monitor.
“What, loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles?”
His eyes lifted from the monitor and locked to mine. “I guess I like things that can be bad for me.”
Oh. And then I wasn’t sure if he was actually checking the way the light hit my face or staring into my eyes. Either way, I wasn’t prepared for the swoop my stomach made when I saw the fire that burned in his gaze. Startled, I looked away.
“Hey.” He moved over to me and tilted up my chin. “Eyes ahead.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Every cell of my body was suddenly aware of the exact spot where his fingers were touching me and I had a sudden, insane urge to put one of them in my mouth.
“Hmm.” His rumble was so deep I felt it in my bones.
“Everything okay?” I squeaked.
“I’m not happy with the shadowing,” Elliot murmured, moving my head left then right. “Makes you look like a supervillain.”
“Oh.” I was now desperate to get out of this chair. The sensation of his touch against the vulnerable underside of my chin was setting off what felt like a chain reaction of sparks up and down my body that I couldn’t control.
“Don’t worry, if anyone can pull off the villain aesthetic …” he went on before I could get too outraged. Still holding my chin, he called out to Noah. “Hey, man, can you get that reflector?”
Noah scurried forward with a foil reflector. “Where do you want it?”
Elliot twisted his mouth in thought and, God help me, I dropped my gaze to his lips. Now I was thinking about his mouth. His mouth and his hands. “Not right,” he murmured.
“Huh?” I breathed, my face flooding with heat.
“Your nose is casting too much shadow,” he said bluntly, and I instantly developed a nose complex.
“Noah, down to the right?” Elliot suggested. Noah moved and Elliot shook his head. “No, not so … Can you bring it closer?” Noah did as he was told, and Elliot studied my face. “Okay, stop!”
“Can I go yet?” I squirmed in my seat. This was a professional situation, and I was being utterly unprofessional. Maybe no one could tell at this moment, but surely it wouldn’t be too long before I burst into flame, and then everyone would know the effect this man was having on me.
“No. Stay.” His hands were on my shoulders. “Lean back a bit. No, more.” I did as I was told, and he looked skeptically at the key lights. “Can you … No, sit still.”
I groaned. “Seriously, where do you want me?”
His eyes narrowed. “Hang on.” He moved around the back of my seat and heaved it up into the air, with me on it. The momentum caused my head to fall back against him, his chin digging into my shoulder.
Alarmed, I grabbed the arms of the chair. “What are you doing?”
“Shifting you.” He grunted, his breath chasing down the loose V of my shirt to the bare skin of my upper breasts. My nipples instantly tightened and I couldn’t help it; I let out a small, involuntary moan.
Elliot heard it. There was an audible gulp and then the chair was lowered gently to the ground. “I think that’ll do it,” he said quickly. “Stay there.” And then he stalked off to look at me through the monitor again, his face contorted in a scowl.
I stayed stock still, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. Had everyone witnessed what had just happened? I actively wished for the ground to open up and take me away.
Michelle came bustling in, forehead pinched in concentration. “We’re at time, can we get started?”
“Almost,” Elliot said. “I just need five minutes to check the lighting for the interview room next door.” He gave me a strange look then hurried out.
Naya called Michelle away and Sol ambled over, smacking freshly glossed lips.
“So, he your guy or what?” she asked.
“My— You mean Elliot?” I stammered.
“The way he was looking at you like you were dessert,” she said with a giggle.
“He was checking the lighting setup,” I said stiffly.
“Lucita,” she said affectionately. “He was checking something, and it was not the lights.”
My mouth was suddenly dry. “It’s just the way he works.”
“Hmm.” Sol gave me a wise, slow smile as her eyes drifted to the door Elliot had walked out of.
“If that’s how he works I’d love to see how he plays.
” The idea that she might be interested in Elliot sent a hot lance of jealousy to my gut.
I mean, who could compete with a movie star? Sol laughed. “Ohhhh.”
“Oh what?” I asked, my voice weak.
“He’s not really my type,” Sol said. “So don’t worry.”
“What? Why would I—? I’m not worried!”
“Sure.” She laughed, just as Elliot’s voice crackled through the radio. I fought to keep my face neutral at the sound of him announcing the tech was ready for interviews to start.
“Great.” Michelle lifted her radio. “Send them in.”
The interviews began and I tucked myself away at the back of the room to watch.
I had to marvel at Sol’s professionalism and even though she repeated a lot of the same points to different outlets, each time she sounded fresh and inspired.
Elliot moved between interview suites, occasionally tweaking lights or giving Sol feedback on her body language in between interviews.
I hated the fact my eyes kept drifting to Elliot every time he so much as moved or spoke, but watching him work was almost as exciting as listening to what Sol had to say about her movie.
He was totally in the zone, confident and calm.
As a result, Sol was relaxed and on form and, despite the pressing urgency of the script, I was disappointed when the interviews came to an end.
Sol and her team were whisked out to her TV commitments, leaving Elliot and me in the suite to help the camera crew pack up their gear.
“I hope you’re ready for some serious editing,” I said to Elliot as he held open the door for the last camera operator.
“I still have some juice in the tank,” he said with a nod.
“Good.” I let out a sigh of relief. “Because I don’t want to be hauled into Sadie’s office for another bollocking if I can help it.”
He blinked at me in concern. “Please tell me bollocking is British slang for something not gross.”
“Telling-off, dressing-down, admonishment.” I reeled off synonyms with relish. “That enough for your inner thesaurus?”
“Ha. I asked because it sounds …” He gestured. “You know, rude.”
“Only if you’re a pervert,” I muttered, scampering ahead before he could respond.
We made it into the hotel’s sumptuous lobby, where Michelle was waiting. “Good work, you two!”
“Thanks,” I said, “although I really did nothing except sit.”
“Hey, you charmed our star,” Michelle said. “She just told me what a great afternoon she had, and you guys played a big part in that.”
Elliot’s phone rang and he rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I gotta …” He clamped the phone to his ear and stalked off to the exit.
“I had fun too,” I told Michelle. “Thanks for asking me to be part of it.”
“You’re so welcome,” she said. “I’m glad you got to see another side of RJF besides that gross little writers’ room.”
A small electric thrill coursed up my spine at the thought of returning there with Elliot.
What had happened to me back there? I couldn’t deny that I found Elliot attractive – hello, I’d almost mounted him in public that first day in Have a Java.
But to be overwhelmed like that, to a point where I’d nearly lost control …
? That wasn’t normal for me and the fact that I’d come close to jeopardizing my professional standing in front of my new colleagues was freaking me out.
Michelle and I ambled outside. Twenty-Second Street was quiet in the late afternoon sun. We were near where Broadway intersected and yards away was the thin wedge of the Flatiron building.
As we waited for our Uber back to the office, I soon realized Elliot had not returned from his call. I dialed his mobile, but it rang out.
“Perhaps he’s gone back to the office on foot?” Michelle suggested.
“Perhaps.” I cast my eyes up and down the street one last time before getting in the car. But he was nowhere to be seen.