Chapter Four
Myles
Men like Hallstein were my kryptonite. Tall, dark, handsome, mysterious, and untouchable.
I always went for the guys who wouldn’t pick me. My own stupidity.
Hallstein’s black, slightly shaggy hair reminded me of Cole Hamilton’s—except Cole’s swept down to his shoulders while Hallstein’s was shorter at the back.
His dark-brown eyes—that I could easily sink into—were nothing like Cole’s dark-blue.
Still, with their height and stance, the similarities were unmistakable.
I’d secretly crushed on Cole since he first started appearing on television and in movies.
Knowing he was a hometown boy only deepened that longing.
Then I met him, and although my admiration increased, my crush diminished again.
Although he was only ever spotted with women, the rumors were that he was bi. Recently confirmed.
And he was totally off the market.
I glanced at the bodyguard again. Seriously? He was…such a cliché, with his black suit, black shirt, and black tie. "Oh, darling—you need some color in your wardrobe. You can have a serious job without impersonating a black hole."
He blinked and then stared, unspeaking.
Well, okay then. “This is the set.” I guided him into the space that was Montgomery Daley’s office. Then I surreptitiously watched his reaction.
The set designers had created a space that truly felt like a penthouse office in downtown Vancouver. All chrome, glass, oak, and a touch of leather.
Hallstein stepped into the space with apparent trepidation.
“It’s okay.” I walked right onto the set and up to Montgomery’s desk.
I took a slow survey of the desk with the phone and laptop.
Often, though, he’d use a remote controller to activate a massive screen hidden in a wood cabinet.
All high tech and shit. My job wasn’t to understand, but to ensure everything Cole might need would be within reach.
“Where does this go?” Hallstein continued to clutch the box that was about sixteen inches in length.
“Hey, Myles.” A burly man sauntered over. “You good?”
“Hey, Vern. Yeah, good in your world?” Vern was one of the grips.
“Yep.”
Even as he said the word, more people arrived. Ursula, our director of photography. Linus, the sound guy. Melinda, our director Lisette’s assistant. Her arrival meant the boss herself would arrive shortly.
Hallstein cleared his throat.
Right. “The vase goes on the desk. A centerpiece, of sorts.”
“Oh.” Vern glanced over at the box. “Is this the fancy thing Seamus was warning us about?”
I grinned. “Yes. Now skedaddle. I want as few people near it as are necessary.”
“Yeah, okay.” Vern headed to the other side of the set.
Hallstein stepped toward me, almost gingerly.
I grinned. “Hallstein? What sort of name is that? Do you have a nickname? Hally? Steiny? Chuck?”
He continued to stare at me impassively.
“Oh, I know. Hallsy.”
Nothing.
“Oh, the strong-and-silent type. I like a challenge.”
Coco waved and indicated she was going to check the bookcase.
I doubted it needed to be checked, but she was diligent.
My companion cleared his throat. “My name is Hallstein. You may call me Hallstein. Where would you like me to set up the vase?”
I pointed to the desk.
He placed the box on the gleaming glass surface and, again gingerly, opened the box and pulled the vase out.
I cocked my head. Seriously? All that fuss for this?
I could’ve had an identical made for a couple hundred dollars.
I was all about authenticity…but that meant hanging around my dream man for the five next weeks or so.
That didn’t appeal. I could drool, but I couldn’t touch.
With that in mind, I picked up the box. Then, on impulse, my inner scamp presented himself.
“Oh, I love it. Isn't it gorgeous? I thought it would be bigger. They told me it would be bigger, but alas, that’s what they all say, right?
Hallsy blinked.
“Do you tell the boys you have something big for them and then they sigh in disappointment when you unzip?”
His dark-brown eyes widened comically.
I grinned. “Right. I can tell we’re just getting on like a house on fire.”
“No. Fire is dangerous. Fire means I need to retrieve the item at monumental risk to myself and get the item to safety.” His gaze shot to the ceiling as if he was looking for the sprinkler system.
“Uh…” I was joking. Sheesh, didn’t this guy have a sense of humor?
“And, no... I've never had anyone sigh in disappointment when I unzip. Shall I put the vase on that desk?”
“Yes.” I pointed.
“That’s too close to the edge.” Hallstein didn’t move.
“Well, we can’t have it in the center of the desk, and it doesn’t make sense on the coffee table.”
He pointed to a mahogany bookshelf that held various mementos of Justice’s travels and adventures where Coco was carefully dusting. “It would fit there.”
“Sure, but the camera never focuses there. We have actual lines of dialogue discussing the vase. So put it here.”
The Secret Service clone finally relented and put it where I asked. Then moved it another inch toward the center of the desk.
His lack of a smile made me want to widen my grin. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, “Do you ever smile? Or will your face crack?”
He blinked, then scowled. “Cracks are bad. We don't want cracks. Cracks mean I get fired, and valuable items are no longer valuable...”
“Hey, Myles.” Before I could even turn, Cole Hamilton slung his arm around my shoulder.
The guy was possibly the nicest actor I’d ever worked with. Except Julie, Elouise, and Peter were all great too. I turned into his embrace. “Hi, Cole.”
He gave me an extra squeeze.
When we first were getting to know each other, he’d asked if I minded him being friendly.
My crush? Asking me if he could touch me or hug me in a friendly way?
Like I would ever say no to that.
“Watch the vase.”
Hallsy’s voice broke the magic of being in Cole’s arms.
Cole pulled back and stepped away from the desk. “Oh, that’s it?” He cocked his head.
“Yeah. A bit smaller than I expected.” I eyed Hallsy. “While other things are bigger than expected.”
Hallsy’s pupils went wide, and he swallowed.
Yes, big boy, I mean you. He might not be interested in a guy like me, but I could sure have fun. This was possibly sexual harassment, but I just needed to rile him up.
“Julie.” Cole called his co-star. Even as she approached, he called, “Hey, Elouise.”
Both women, who barely hit five feet, headed over.
While Julie’s hair was white-blonde, Elouise’s was more of a wheat blond.
Julie’s eyes stunned with their intense emerald-green color while Elouise’s gray ones were somehow softer.
Tough women who played ball-busting characters on the show.
Both female and male fans flocked to them.
I eyed Cole. Well, to him as well.
Elouise pointed to the vase. “Okay, well, that’s pretty. I’ve never knowingly seen one in person. Although I’m sure someone at all those Hollywood parties must’ve had one.”
Julie stepped closer and squinted. “Uh, it’s unique.” She eyed Hallsy. “And you’re going to let me steal it?”
He stood even taller.
Covertly, I watched him watch the women. I didn’t spot any reaction. Likely dude wouldn’t react anyway, except…
Huh.
Hallsy’s gaze kept straying to Cole.
Well, that pretty much confirms that.
True. But if Cole was Hallsy’s type, then I didn’t stand a chance. With almost a foot in height difference—and that was just the start. Cole was buff and strong, while I was puny and weak.
Cole had those stunning blue eyes and the windswept dark hair.
My hair resembled Julie’s in color, but wasn’t nearly as interesting in style as I tended to keep it close cropped.
Cole and Hallsy shared the same shaven jaw. Chiseled. Strong.
In truth, I was about as opposite of Cole as one could ever find.
Elouise nodded to me. “Mirela’s going to have lots of questions about the acquisition of such a piece.” Mirela was her character—and Montgomery Daley’s headstrong assistant.
Casting her as a potential love interest for Justice had proved to be a stroke of brilliance because now fans argued about whether Justice should wind up with Lyric or Mirela. She headed back over toward Julie.
I nudged Hallsy. “She’s a looker.”
“I attempt not to objectify women.”
“Uh…”
“But she and Ms. Reyes are…pleasing to the eye.”
Okay, then. “Right. Julie’s single, you know.”
An arched eyebrow was the only response I got.
“Well, have you checked out Cole’s ass in those tailored pants?”
“No, I had not.” Yet a small flush of color crept into his cheeks.
Pressing my advantage, I continued. “How about when he’s in his superhero costume? Those pants are so tight.”
Hallsy scrunched his nose. “I don't think stockings should be a requirement of a superhero. What if he gets a run in those pants?”
What…? “Those aren’t tights. They’re not going to get a run in them.”
“Be that as it may, does he chafe?" He scratched his stubble-free jaw. “And, for that matter, how does he take a whizz? Do superheroes need bathroom breaks?"
Before I could respond, a voice came across the vast space.
“I want everyone’s attention.” Lisette Grenier, the director, might be tiny, but she was a powerhouse, and when she spoke, people listened.
Showtime.