Chapter 26 Robyn #2
His gaze softened. “I fully enjoyed the experience, let’s say.
And one of my suite mates was an aspiring actor.
He’d gotten wind that Kevin Pierce, the director behind the comic book movies, was filming scenes for the latest one in Edinburgh, and they were looking for extras.
Somehow I got roped into going with him, and the producer picked me out.
She liked my look. Asked if I could fake a right hook. Afterward she gave me her card.”
I guffawed. “Just like that?”
“I know,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Actors who have been working for years to get noticed hate that shit when they hear it. I’m not well liked in that regard. But the producer was actually serious. Wanted me to audition for another movie.”
“She wanted to have sex with you.”
He looked away.
“Oh my God, I’m right.”
“It wasn’t tawdry sexual blackmail. I would have gotten the work without it.”
“But you had sex with her, anyway?”
“She was an attractive, confident older woman.”
I chuckled. “So you had sex with her.”
His eyes lit up with humor, and he shrugged.
“It led to some smaller bit parts here and there, and I liked it. I enjoyed being on a set. Got myself an agent, some acting lessons, and honestly, it all happened so fast. The next thing I knew, I was in New York filming as a young action hero lead in a sci-fi movie. It was … surreal.”
“But you enjoyed it?”
“For a while,” he admitted. “I spent my twenties traveling the world, working hard, playing just as hard, and making a lot of money. But I missed home, and I missed my family.”
“The Hollywood allure wasn’t enough?”
“I never liked Hollywood. There’s a smell of desperation in the air.”
“Don’t you miss it, though? Acting? Top-level fame?”
“I didn’t pay attention to the fame when it was happening.”
“How can you not pay attention to that?”
“Because for someone like me, it would just have constantly pissed me off to pay attention to it. Some celebrities feed off that shit. They need it. That was never the reason I decided to get into acting. And tabloids are bastards. At the height of my career, I was constantly followed by the paps. They took a photograph and spun it into absolute bullshit that the public bought into. You can’t let it get to you, so you learn ways to ignore most of it.
My agent and publicist were constantly on my back to go online and nurture my fandom, but I only had to talk to friends and acquaintances who were doing that to see how quickly it could turn on them. ”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s why I’m still not online. There’s this eagerness to condemn someone for their actions no matter the severity, or lack thereof, without examining or attempting to understand the circumstances.
It’s depressing. I mean, if we applied that lack of compassion and bloodthirsty attitude to real life and the law, Western civilization would still be hanging people for stealing fruit. ”
I had to admit, I didn’t think he was wrong. “I have to be online.”
“I don’t mean you,” he said. “You’re on there for your business, not to assume the worst in people.”
“Maybe I assumed the worst in you, though.” I shimmied closer so our noses almost touched. “I needed someone else to blame for the distance between me and Mac. I’m sorry I put that on you.”
He studied my face. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I was a prick to you, Robyn, and you didn’t deserve it.”
We shared a soft look and then I reached up to caress his lips with mine. A whisper of a brush.
There was a heady sensation building between us that threw me off-kilter. So I tried to bring some levity to the conversation. “Favorite color?”
“What?” he asked, bemused.
“I’m getting to know you, and while I’m sure you’ve answered these everyday questions in interviews over the years, I just told you, I don’t read or watch celebrity interviews. Not since I was thirteen and obsessed with Cam Gigandet.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“Hey, it could have been you if I didn’t dislike you so much for stealing my dad,” I teased.
“Let’s not talk about you having those feelings when you were thirteen.”
“Spoiling the mood?”
“Uh, just a bit.”
I chuckled. “Then answer the question. Favorite color?”
“I don’t know. Blue, I suppose.”
“Blue, you suppose?”
“Yours?”
“Turquoise. Like the ocean around Fiji.”
He smiled. “Have you been?”
“I’d never been anywhere outside the States until I came here. I can’t wait to travel. Where’s the best place you’ve ever visited?”
Lachlan considered it for a few seconds. “I don’t know. It’s a toss-up between Vietnam and Canada. Abraham Lake in Alberta is one of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen outside the Highlands.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you should visit. Get some cracking shots for your business.”
“On my list, then.”
“Top of your list?”
“Italy.”
“All of Italy?”
“Pretty much. Positano, Lake Como, Rome, Venice, Florence … yeah … all of it.”
He grinned. “I’ve been to nearly all those places, except Florence.”
“Show off,” I teased, though I was a little jealous he’d seen so much of the world. “Okay, favorite movie?”
Lachlan groaned. “Oh, that’s the worst question you could ask.”
“Why?”
“Because people either expect me to say some dumb action movie or some film student, cult classic like Metropolis.”
“I don’t have any expectations,” I promised. “My favorite movie is Green Book.”
“Good bloody movie.”
I waited.
He sighed heavily. “Saving Private Ryan. I remember going to see it when I was fifteen and being shell shocked by the opening scenes on Omaha Beach. I’d never seen a war movie like it.
It had such an impact, and when I looked around at everyone else in the audience, one woman held her hand over her mouth in horror, and an old man had tears in his eyes.
It was the first time I realized the power of film. ”
I caressed his chest and whispered, “I guess I need to watch it now.”
“You’ve never seen Saving Private Ryan?”
“Nope.”
“Great bloody movie. Other filmmakers copied the style, but when it first released, I remember everybody talking about how it felt like the first truly realistic war movie. Unsettlingly so.”
“You do love movies, don’t you?”
“Of course. Just don’t have a lot of time for them these days.”
“What made you give up the movies? Come back home?”
He considered this. “Truth? It wasn’t just Dad dying. I missed home and my family. And growing up, the sense of taking care of our family legacy was instilled from birth. I mean, the castle as you see it now isn’t what it was when we lived here as a family.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No. We had no staff, and many parts of the castle were in disrepair. We were what you called land rich but cash poor. Not poor as in poverty, but so much of what my parents had was shoveled into keeping this grand old lady alive.” He gestured around us.
“Growing up in a castle isn’t as glamorous as people might think.
It was cold and drafty and damp. I knew when I inherited her that something drastic needed to be done.
So not only did I invest some of my earnings but I also searched for investors for the club.
We returned the castle to her former glory and expanded out onto the estate. ”
“That must have cost a fortune.”
“It did. Took us several years to recoup it. But we’re already in the black.”
“That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”
He shrugged, and sensing his discomfort with my praise, I changed the subject. “What else do you like? Favorite food, book, pastime, and band?”
Lachlan chuckled. “Do we have time limitations that I’m unaware of?”
“Rapid-fire questions are a great way to get to know someone.”
“Or panic them into giving bullshit answers,” he joked.
I laughed. “You’ve never been panicked in your life.”
“Wrong.” He smirked but continued. “Bánh xèo.” He pronounced it boon say-oh.
“Vietnamese pancake, and delicious. I read a lot as a kid, and my favorite book when I was a teen was One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Cliché maybe, but it’s a classic for a reason.
Don’t have time for pastimes, and my favorite band is Oasis. ”
“Oasis?”
“Some of us grew up in the nineties, remember.”
“And some of us were only just born then, old man.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Watch it, minx. Now your turn.”
“Hmm, let’s see … favorite food is pizza. I know. Unimaginative, but it’s true.” I wrinkled my nose at the laughing glint in his eyes. “Hey, I could have made something up but I’m being real here.”
“Pizza. Okay. Nothing wrong with pizza. But I think we need to introduce you to some bánh xèo in the future.”
“That works for me.” No arguments there, especially if I got to try it in Vietnam. “Book: not a big reader but I do love Pride and Prejudice. We’re equally cliché in our literary tastes, but sometimes lots of people like the same thing because it’s good.”
Lachlan nodded, grinning. “Amen to that. Pastime? Band?”
“Pastime: kicking ass and taking names,” I said, referring to my martial arts training. “Band … the Eagles.” I lifted my head to rest my chin on his chest. “Stupidest thing you’ve ever been asked in an interview?”
His brow furrowed as he stared up at the ceiling in thought. “Hmm … Mostly, I was just asked the same boring shit over and over again.”
“Like?”
“Who was I dating? Who was my ideal woman? What was my workout routine? What did I eat? Did I manscape?”
“Those are shittier than my favorite-color question.”
Lachlan chuckled and reached out to brush his thumb over my lip. “Then ask me something else.”
I contemplated this and then tried to hide my smile. “What do you want most out of the person sharing your bed?”
His lips twitched, and I was glad he heard the teasing in my voice and didn’t take me too seriously. But then he surprised me with his answer. “To make me laugh.”
I couldn’t help my smile this time. “Good answer, handsome.”
“I’m glad you came here, Braveheart,” Lachlan admitted, his voice low, almost hoarse.