Chapter Two
JAYCE
Jayce Hunt gently cupped the side of his co-star’s face with his palm, gathering a bolstering breath. Okay, let’s get this over with .
Stacey Sawyer gazed up at him with her enormous brown eyes as the warm Bali breeze tossed her long shimmering blond hair around her bare shoulders. She looked every inch the A-list star in her ethereal white gauzy dress. No wonder the camera loved her.
She tilted her chin, simultaneously parting her lips and fluttering her eyelids closed. The woman could fake eternal love better than anyone in the business. He should take notes.
Sliding an arm around her waist, he drew her closer, just like they’d practiced a thousand times before, and shut his eyes.
Her tanned skin smelled like fresh coconut.
Perfect . The familiar scent would make it easier to imagine the woman he actually wanted to be holding on the beautiful white sand beach as the sun glittered across the water behind them.
Picturing his secret dream girl, he lowered his lips toward Stacey’s, pausing the second he felt her gentle breath. He tilted his head, expertly angling his jawline to give the camera the appearance of a deep, undying kiss, without actually making contact.
They held the pose until the director shouted, “Cut! That’s a wrap!” and then immediately snapped out of character.
“You had a poppy seed muffin right before filming, didn’t you?” The twinkle in Stacey’s eyes belied her accusatory tone.
“Smells better than fish taco breath, right? I’m making progress,” he teased. “I don’t have any seeds in my teeth, do I?”
“No, thankfully. Goodness knows we don’t want to reshoot, since Harry is already in a foul mood thanks to you.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Jayce felt slightly guilty that the no-kissing clause he had written into every contract irritated the director, but not enough to change his mind. When he kissed a woman, he wanted it to mean something.
“Hey, don’t apologize. Rob loves the clause. He says I should only film movies with you from now on.” She laughed but kept her voice low enough to not be overheard by the film crew.
“Too bad you couldn’t sneak him onto our flight.
Bali would make the perfect honeymoon destination.
” He’d only met her fiancé once, but he’d instantly liked his easy, down-to-earth demeanor.
The guy’s only flaw—if it could even be called a flaw—was that he couldn’t stand anything to do with Hollywood.
According to Stacey, their relationship had only survived because she’d managed to keep it a secret from everyone except for family and a few close friends.
He considered it an honor to be included in the tight-knit, clandestine circle.
Not that he’d shared his own secret with her. At least, not yet.
“I know. We talked about it but decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
We’re eloping after the RCAs in a few weeks,” she said, referring to a prestigious award ceremony honoring achievements specific to the romantic comedy genre held in Hollywood each year.
“And honestly, if we weren’t each nominated in multiple categories, I’d skip the ceremony altogether.
That’s how excited I am!” She beamed as if the mere thought of her impending marriage lit her up from the inside.
“I’m happy for you two.” He tried his best to sound sincere.
“You know, for one of Hollywood’s most beloved actors, you’re not very convincing,” she said with a lighthearted smile.
“Sorry. It’s not you guys. It’s—”
“I know, I know,” she groaned, hinting he may have shared his philosophy one too many times. “You don’t believe in love. Which is ironic since People Magazine just named you the Swooniest Star on Screen.”
“I believe in love. I’m just not convinced it lasts. At least, not for most people.” And definitely not for his parents, who went from blissfully married to bitterly divorced by the time he hit puberty. As if dealing with razor burn and body odor wasn’t bad enough.
“’Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” Stacey recited Tennyson’s old adage with exaggerated theatrics.
Jayce chuckled at her melodramatics, holding up his hands in mock defeat, although he still wasn’t convinced. But hey, if other people wanted to risk the kind of soul-crushing pain caused by an inevitable breakup, who was he to stop them?
“You two were fabulous!” Gretchen Schroeder stumbled across the sand in her ridiculous high heels. Would it kill the woman to wear a pair of flip-flops?
He exchanged an amused glance with Stacey. They’d shared the same agent for years, and her absurd antics—like wearing a black Prada pantsuit on the pristine white beaches of Bali—no longer fazed them.
“Another blockbuster on the books.” Gretchen wiped a damp strand of overly bleached hair off her forehead. “Ugh. I can’t wait to get out of this wretched humidity.”
She teetered on the uneven ground, and Jayce reached out a hand to steady her.
He knew better than to remind Gretchen she could’ve stayed in Los Angeles.
Good ol’ Gretch . For better or worse, their agent slash publicist believed in being hands-on.
While they occasionally found her dedication annoying—and Stacey struggled to keep her relationship with Rob a secret—they couldn’t deny the woman’s results.
Their careers had soared ever since they’d signed with her, save for one tiny speed bump.
“This film is going to put you back on top after our momentary blip,” Gretchen declared with inflated confidence.
Ever since their romantic comedy Tacos and Tango didn’t do as well as they’d hoped, she’d refused to mention it by name.
She’d sidestep around the title with terms like blip , hitch , and fluke .
“And I have just the strategy to catapult you beyond the stratosphere of stardom.”
Jayce bit back a groan. By “strategy” she meant a publicity stunt.
What would it be this time? For Tacos and Tango , she’d arranged for them to help teach tango lessons at a rec center in an underserved community.
He was pretty sure they would’ve preferred free tacos instead, but when Gretchen got an idea into her head, she ran with it.
And it usually worked. The operative word being usually.
“What is it?” Stacey asked warily. “I’ll do anything as long as it doesn’t prolong the press tour.
” They’d agreed to a two-pronged promotional attack—one tour after filming and another shortly before the film’s release.
Unfortunately, when it came to being an actor, the actual acting only accounted for half the job.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. The schedule won’t change. But I’ll need you both on board with my plan.” Gretchen shot a pointed glance between them. “I’m talking full cooperation.”
Would she cut to the chase already? “What’s your brilliant ploy this time?”
“Not a ploy. It’s a tried-and-true tactic. It’s worked for countless actors before, and it’ll work for you two. If you do exactly as I say.”
Good grief . At this rate, the movie would be done with postproduction by the time she finished her pitch. “What’s the plan, Gretch? We’ve never said no to one of your schemes before.”
“Again. Not a scheme . A strategy.” She fanned herself with the edge of her Hermès scarf.
“It’s no secret you two make the perfect couple.
It’s why you’ll win a BOCA this year,” she said, mentioning their nomination for the Best On-Screen Couple Award for the millionth time that month.
“With Stacey’s big Bambi eyes and her ability to pull off the sultry ingénue paradox, and Jayce, with your dark Italian good looks and a charm that’s both roguish and boyish, you’ve been America’s favorite sweethearts for years.
And it’s time we give the fans what they want. ”
Uh-oh . He didn’t like where this was headed…
“By the time you two land back in LA we’ll have accidentally ”—she punctuated the word with air quotes—“leaked your off-screen romance.”
His heart slammed into his stomach.
“And not just your boring, run-of-the-mill boyfriend-girlfriend situation,” Gretchen continued. “You two are engaged .” Her lips curled into a devious smile, reminding Jayce of a cartoon villain. “Your fans will eat it up.”
And you know who won’t? Jayce thought. Stacey’s actual fiancé, Rob . He turned to gauge her reaction.
She met his gaze, her face pale. Her pleading glance said everything he needed to know.
“Sorry, Gretchen,” he said crisply. “No can do.”
“Excuse me?” Her green eyes narrowed. She wasn’t used to hearing no .
“I know we agreed to let you call the shots, but we’re going to have to pass this time. Why don’t we come up with something else?”
“Why don’t we come up with something else?” Gretchen repeated, her tone incredulous with a touch of do-you-know-who-you’re-talking-to? She flashed an icy, ominous smirk that would’ve made Jayce shiver if it weren’t so hot under the blazing sun. “Have you taken a look at my client list lately?”
“It’s very impressive.”
“And what about my contract? The contract you signed,” she added pointedly. “Have you had a gander at that recently?”
“I’m familiar with the terms.”
“Then you know there is no we . You’ve reached your level of fame because of my guidance.
I make stars. It’s what I do. And I’m pretty darn good at it.
It’s why you pay me the big bucks. And it’s why you’re going to trust me this time, just like all the times before.
Right?” She’d sweetened her tone, but her smile still gave off supervillain vibes.
She could be ruthless when she didn’t get her way.
He might be able to handle being on Gretchen’s bad side, but what about Stacey?
He shot his co-star another glance. She’d gone from pale to putrid green. A dead ringer for how she’d looked on yesterday’s sailing excursion right before she’d spewed her lunch all over the side of the yacht.
To make matters worse, Gretchen pinned her with her most persuasive smile. “Stacey, darling. You see the wisdom in my proposal, don’t you? Please convince your shortsighted co-star that this is what’s best for your career. For both of your careers.”
Stacey’s mouth fell open. She mirrored a limp fish gasping for air. “I—I—I—”
Great . She was stuck in a single syllable panic loop. He needed to do something, but what? Gretchen wouldn’t back down easily.
“I can’t fake an engagement with Stacey,” he announced before he’d formulated a coherent plan.
“And why not?” Gretchen crossed her arms with a this-better-be-good glare.
“Well, because, I—” Come on, man. Come up with something. There’s got to be a reasonable explanation in your brain somewhere . “Because I’m already engaged,” he blurted, then instantly winced. So much for reasonable—more like irrational. Idiotic. Irredeemably asinine. What were you thinking?
“You’re engaged?” Gretchen’s tone dripped with skepticism.
“Yep. Have been for a while now. To a girl back home.” Great. Just keep digging the hole deeper, dummy. Oh, the foolish things we do for friends.
Stacey gaped at him, looking both shocked and grateful.
Gretchen scowled. “And why am I just now hearing about this?”
“She’s a small-town girl. Not one for the limelight. She asked me to keep it on the down-low.” Okay, so he’d stolen Stacey and Rob’s story, but this way, they wouldn’t have to go through with the fake engagement fiasco and Gretchen wouldn’t find out the truth until after his friends tied the knot.
“And does your blushing bride-to-be have a name?”
“A name?”
“Yes, a name is the form of identification written on a birth certificate.” Gretchen may not know how to conjure a sincere smile to save her life, but she could teach a master class in snark.
“Yes, she has a name. It’s—” Shoot. He should’ve anticipated this question. Pick a name. Any name. Don’t overthink it . “CeCe. CeCe Dupree.”
Drat . Okay, so he should’ve thought about it a little . For more than five seconds, at least. Instead, he’d said the first name that came to mind—the one name always on his mind.
Jayce bit back a groan. CeCe’s going to kill me.
Although, they’d had a fake wedding once already.
In kindergarten. She’d worn a dandelion crown, and he’d borrowed his dad’s tie, which he’d tucked into the collar of his T-shirt because he had no clue how to tie one.
They’d invited all their favorite stuffed animals to the ceremony and celebrated with Oreos and juice boxes afterward. They’d had a blast.
Maybe he could appeal to her sense of nostalgia? Or her inner romantic? After all, didn’t all women love weddings?