He goes with me to the interview, which is being held in Ward’s penthouse suite. We take the elevator to the top floor, then enter a suite that looks much like our own—only significantly more crowded.
My cameraman is already there, as are at least half a dozen people who must perform some function on the film, though I have no clue what. Another five or six people hover around a buffet that has been set up on the far side of the room, in front of the windows. A few more are huddled around a table spread with papers that I think are pages of a screenplay.
I do not see Ellison Ward.
A harried woman with pencils sticking out of her messy, blond topknot comes hurrying over. She glances at her wrist, says, “I’m Birgit, and we’re already running late,” even though I’m five minutes early, and hustles me to a small sofa. The cameraman leaves his post to come over and shake my hand.
“Leo,” he says. “I’ll shoot Ellison, and then we’ll go back and reshoot you asking the questions. Don’t wanna miss a chance of getting something prime on the celeb, so it works out best that way.”
“Fine,” I say. “Where is our celeb?”
Beside me, Birgit glances at her watch. “He better be on his way or we are going to be seriously off schedule.” She pulls a walkie-talkie off her belt. “Dammit, Carson, I need Ellison.”
“On our way,” comes the crackly reply.
A few feet behind Leo, Ryan leans against a pillar watching me. I catch his eye and smile. At that particular moment, everything feels right. The job. The man. Life in general. I wish I could bottle it and keep it tight against my chest.
But I should know it’s too good to last because when the double doors to the connecting room open, Ellison Ward and his entourage emerge. And there, standing right behind my subject, is Bryan Raine.
I must have reacted because Ryan takes one look at my face, then turns to look behind him. When he turns back to me, it’s clear that he understands. His face is hard, and I am quite certain that if he could kill Raine and get away with it, Ryan wouldn’t even hesitate.
Honestly, that feels kind of nice.
I have no idea why Raine is there—he wasn’t on the cast list of the movie I received—and I’m really not up to speculating. It’s bad enough that he’s hovering nearby like some huge, dark spider, just waiting to trap me and suck me dry.
But my fears are foolish. He may have entered the room, but he doesn’t stay, and when I look around for him, there is no sign.
I say a silent thank you to fate and the universe, then shake hands with Ellison Ward. He’s charming and polite and very properly British. He puts me at ease immediately and the interview seems to sing. He is honest and forthright, and I’m able to work in both the fluff questions and also dig deeper.
By the time it wraps, I am feeling incredible about myself, about Ellison, and about the world in general.
I say good-bye to Ellison, then sit while Leo has me run through my questions again. When he’s finished, Ryan approaches, and it’s all I can do not to throw myself into his arms.
“You were wonderful,” he says.
“She was,” Leo agrees. “Got a way with the camera, too. You’re gonna do good, Jamie. Hope we work together again.”
“Thank you,” I say, then invite him to join us for a drink in the hotel bar. He declines, and I’m secretly grateful. I would have been happy to have him along, but I’m happier to have Ryan all to myself.
“A drink,” he says as we ride the elevator down. “I had planned to buy you a celebratory trip to Paris, but if you’d rather have this instead...”
I laugh, then pull him in close for another kiss. I’m still laughing when we get out of the elevator car, and my good mood lasts until we reach the middle of the lobby.
It fades there because Bryan Raine is coming right toward us.
“Jamie,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t get the chance to say hello upstairs. I’ve got a part in Johnson’s next movie, and he wanted me to drive in and take a look at some pages. Maybe we can grab a drink? Catch up?”
I clutch Ryan’s hand tight. “No,” I say. “I really don’t think so.”
I continue walking, holding onto Ryan for support. “Asshole,” I mutter as we reach the lobby bar. “Look at me,” I say as we take a seat. “I was in a great mood, and he went and fucked it up.”
“Hey,” Ryan says, giving my hand a squeeze. “Forget about him.”
I nod. “I know. You’re right. Shit.” I stand up again. “Order me something fabulous. I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.”
I take off that way, then spend the next five minutes staring at myself in the mirror and asking myself what the fuck is wrong with me.
When I come out, I’m calmer—at least until I see Bryan standing by Hunter, looking about as trapped as a gazelle being stalked by a lion. Hunter says something else, and then Bryan takes off like a shot, not even noticing me as he rushes past.
“What the hell?” I say to Hunter as soon as I arrive.
“I told him to keep the fuck away,” he says, then takes a sip of his Scotch. “I got you a Cosmopolitan. It seemed like a fun treat.”
I, however, am not interested in the drink. “You just sent him away?”
“Yes,” Ryan says.
I shake my head, a little bit baffled, a little bit angry. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m feeling other than a little pissed off. Hadn’t I already taken care of the asshole myself?
“I don’t need you to step in to play guard dog for me,” I say. “I dealt with the guy myself, didn’t I? I’m not one of your job responsibilities.”
“You’re right,” he says, and his tone is clipped enough that I can tell he’s irritated, too. “You’re not a job responsibility. You’re the woman I love.”
I freeze, his words hitting me with the force of a slap. Automatically, I shake my head. The woman I love.
I want to believe it—god, how I want to believe it. But it can’t be true. And even if it is...
I run my fingers through my hair. “Hunter,” I say. “Hunter, don’t.”
“I love you, Jamie. Stay. Don’t go to Texas. Stay with me.”
I am shaking my head, fighting to make reason take over, because if I run solely on emotion, I know I will be lost. That’s the old Jamie, after all. The one who fucks up. The one who gets all twisted around and makes a mess of her life and has to run home to Mom and Dad to get her head back on straight.
The new Jamie thinks.
But damned if the new Jamie knows what to think about this.
He looks blurry, and I realize that I am crying. Brutally, I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. How can I be so miserable, I wonder. This man loves me. And yet...
“You can’t possibly,” I whisper. “You barely know me.”
True. Yet wasn’t I falling in love with him, too? Hadn’t I told myself that already? Wasn’t I already trying to hide from reality?
“We barely know each other,” I add, this time speaking to the both of us.
“Why does it have to take time to fall in love?” Ryan asks. “If the push is hard enough, the fall is going to be fast.”
My cameraman is already there, as are at least half a dozen people who must perform some function on the film, though I have no clue what. Another five or six people hover around a buffet that has been set up on the far side of the room, in front of the windows. A few more are huddled around a table spread with papers that I think are pages of a screenplay.
I do not see Ellison Ward.
A harried woman with pencils sticking out of her messy, blond topknot comes hurrying over. She glances at her wrist, says, “I’m Birgit, and we’re already running late,” even though I’m five minutes early, and hustles me to a small sofa. The cameraman leaves his post to come over and shake my hand.
“Leo,” he says. “I’ll shoot Ellison, and then we’ll go back and reshoot you asking the questions. Don’t wanna miss a chance of getting something prime on the celeb, so it works out best that way.”
“Fine,” I say. “Where is our celeb?”
Beside me, Birgit glances at her watch. “He better be on his way or we are going to be seriously off schedule.” She pulls a walkie-talkie off her belt. “Dammit, Carson, I need Ellison.”
“On our way,” comes the crackly reply.
A few feet behind Leo, Ryan leans against a pillar watching me. I catch his eye and smile. At that particular moment, everything feels right. The job. The man. Life in general. I wish I could bottle it and keep it tight against my chest.
But I should know it’s too good to last because when the double doors to the connecting room open, Ellison Ward and his entourage emerge. And there, standing right behind my subject, is Bryan Raine.
I must have reacted because Ryan takes one look at my face, then turns to look behind him. When he turns back to me, it’s clear that he understands. His face is hard, and I am quite certain that if he could kill Raine and get away with it, Ryan wouldn’t even hesitate.
Honestly, that feels kind of nice.
I have no idea why Raine is there—he wasn’t on the cast list of the movie I received—and I’m really not up to speculating. It’s bad enough that he’s hovering nearby like some huge, dark spider, just waiting to trap me and suck me dry.
But my fears are foolish. He may have entered the room, but he doesn’t stay, and when I look around for him, there is no sign.
I say a silent thank you to fate and the universe, then shake hands with Ellison Ward. He’s charming and polite and very properly British. He puts me at ease immediately and the interview seems to sing. He is honest and forthright, and I’m able to work in both the fluff questions and also dig deeper.
By the time it wraps, I am feeling incredible about myself, about Ellison, and about the world in general.
I say good-bye to Ellison, then sit while Leo has me run through my questions again. When he’s finished, Ryan approaches, and it’s all I can do not to throw myself into his arms.
“You were wonderful,” he says.
“She was,” Leo agrees. “Got a way with the camera, too. You’re gonna do good, Jamie. Hope we work together again.”
“Thank you,” I say, then invite him to join us for a drink in the hotel bar. He declines, and I’m secretly grateful. I would have been happy to have him along, but I’m happier to have Ryan all to myself.
“A drink,” he says as we ride the elevator down. “I had planned to buy you a celebratory trip to Paris, but if you’d rather have this instead...”
I laugh, then pull him in close for another kiss. I’m still laughing when we get out of the elevator car, and my good mood lasts until we reach the middle of the lobby.
It fades there because Bryan Raine is coming right toward us.
“Jamie,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t get the chance to say hello upstairs. I’ve got a part in Johnson’s next movie, and he wanted me to drive in and take a look at some pages. Maybe we can grab a drink? Catch up?”
I clutch Ryan’s hand tight. “No,” I say. “I really don’t think so.”
I continue walking, holding onto Ryan for support. “Asshole,” I mutter as we reach the lobby bar. “Look at me,” I say as we take a seat. “I was in a great mood, and he went and fucked it up.”
“Hey,” Ryan says, giving my hand a squeeze. “Forget about him.”
I nod. “I know. You’re right. Shit.” I stand up again. “Order me something fabulous. I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.”
I take off that way, then spend the next five minutes staring at myself in the mirror and asking myself what the fuck is wrong with me.
When I come out, I’m calmer—at least until I see Bryan standing by Hunter, looking about as trapped as a gazelle being stalked by a lion. Hunter says something else, and then Bryan takes off like a shot, not even noticing me as he rushes past.
“What the hell?” I say to Hunter as soon as I arrive.
“I told him to keep the fuck away,” he says, then takes a sip of his Scotch. “I got you a Cosmopolitan. It seemed like a fun treat.”
I, however, am not interested in the drink. “You just sent him away?”
“Yes,” Ryan says.
I shake my head, a little bit baffled, a little bit angry. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m feeling other than a little pissed off. Hadn’t I already taken care of the asshole myself?
“I don’t need you to step in to play guard dog for me,” I say. “I dealt with the guy myself, didn’t I? I’m not one of your job responsibilities.”
“You’re right,” he says, and his tone is clipped enough that I can tell he’s irritated, too. “You’re not a job responsibility. You’re the woman I love.”
I freeze, his words hitting me with the force of a slap. Automatically, I shake my head. The woman I love.
I want to believe it—god, how I want to believe it. But it can’t be true. And even if it is...
I run my fingers through my hair. “Hunter,” I say. “Hunter, don’t.”
“I love you, Jamie. Stay. Don’t go to Texas. Stay with me.”
I am shaking my head, fighting to make reason take over, because if I run solely on emotion, I know I will be lost. That’s the old Jamie, after all. The one who fucks up. The one who gets all twisted around and makes a mess of her life and has to run home to Mom and Dad to get her head back on straight.
The new Jamie thinks.
But damned if the new Jamie knows what to think about this.
He looks blurry, and I realize that I am crying. Brutally, I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. How can I be so miserable, I wonder. This man loves me. And yet...
“You can’t possibly,” I whisper. “You barely know me.”
True. Yet wasn’t I falling in love with him, too? Hadn’t I told myself that already? Wasn’t I already trying to hide from reality?
“We barely know each other,” I add, this time speaking to the both of us.
“Why does it have to take time to fall in love?” Ryan asks. “If the push is hard enough, the fall is going to be fast.”
