3. Three

3

THREE

I would’ve preferred having some down time to walk off my bad mood and maybe get a drink, alone, and check out the town. That wasn’t in the cards, though. We had a production meeting over dinner scheduled in the bar area at six o’clock, which meant I had to be showered and dressed—complete with styled hair and makeup—only two hours after my arrival.

I was already running late when I hurried out of my room in my simple black dress and practically bowled over Leo, who was leaving the room across the hall.

He caught me before I could tumble thanks to my heels.

“Slow down, sport,” he drawled. “You’re going to hurt yourself before the referee even blows the whistle to start the game.”

His hands were big on my arms as he held me upright, and I tried not to notice how warm they were against my skin. One thing the Hunter Hotel had going for it was superb air-conditioning.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded rather than come up with a snarky retort. My brain didn’t seem to be working correctly. I needed some sleep to get everything ticking properly again.

“Falling in love,” Leo replied, not missing a beat.

My mouth went dry. “W-what?”

“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?” he replied as he finally released me. “We’re playing love interests on the show unless I’m mistaken.”

“Oh, right.” I felt like an idiot. Somehow—even though I’d known him for a grand total of nine hours—he always made me feel like an idiot. “I meant what are you doing here?” I gestured toward the door he was standing in front of.

“Oh, you mean my room.” He looked back at the door, his nose wrinkling. “Yeah, I’m not sure why they put us across from one another. I guess they wanted to make sure you didn’t have to search high and low when you wanted a glimpse of me.”

His ego was out of control. “You’re not even that good looking,” I lied. Honestly, he was the best-looking man I’d ever seen in person. I didn’t get to work with the likes of Brad Pritt and George Clooney, though, so that wasn’t necessarily that impressive of a feat.

“Oh, really?” This time when Leo smiled there was genuine amusement in his eyes, and it made him look years younger. That hard edge he carried around with him—seemingly constantly—disappeared. “Just out of curiosity, who do you think is better looking than me?”

The question caught me off guard. “A lot of people.”

“Name one. Brad Pitt and George Clooney don’t count because everybody says them.”

Crap. He was definitely trying to catch me unaware. I said the first name that came to my mind. “Jason Kelce.”

Leo stilled. “The football player?”

“The retired football player, podcaster, and genuine hunk of burning love,” I replied, warming to my subject.

“Don’t you mean Travis Kelce?” he asked finally. “The brother. That’s the one the women find most attractive. The other one is kind of a bear.”

“That’s what makes him hot. He’s a devoted husband, a fun father, a responsible pet owner and he does it not giving one lick what people think about him.”

“Huh.”

I hadn’t even realized we were walking toward the elevator until Leo pushed the button to call it. “Is that all you have to say?” I demanded when he hadn’t spoken for several seconds.

“I’m just impressed,” he said finally.

“Really?” I told myself it was another trap, and yet I walked right into it anyway.

“I thought you would go for a pretty boy. I’m glad to see you appreciating the bear.”

Still waiting for a trap, I stared at him out of the corner of my eye as we got on the elevator. “I don’t trust you,” I said finally.

“You shouldn’t.” He looked deadly serious now. “Nobody who has ever trusted me ended up being rewarded for it.”

Now I was confused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He just shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What do you think they’re feeding us for dinner?”

“It’s here in the hotel, right?”

“The bar, but I guess they already ordered off the catering menu. We get to take over the entire bar for the mixer.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’m open to almost anything. Well, except liver. I’m guessing they’re not serving that, though.”

“Probably not,” Leo agreed. He waited for me to exit the elevator first in the lobby. “Just out of curiosity—I can’t remember what my contract said—but is this a naked show?”

That was so not the question I was expecting him to ask. “What?”

“Is it a naked show?” he repeated. “Like … do we get naked together?”

“No!” At least I didn’t think so. I always checked the box that said I was willing to do nudity no matter what. I figured it was better to get the part and then argue after the fact than give them a reason to believe I wasn’t a team player. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Just curious.” Leo gave my legs a long, slow look. “I like your dress.” He moved toward the bar after he said it, as if it wasn’t unexpected and weird.

I watched him go, dumbfounded. What is wrong with this guy? Just on the face of it, it seemed there was a great deal wrong with him. He wasn’t my problem for right now, though. Now was the time for me to meet the rest of the cast. I honestly couldn’t wait.

I WAS A PEOPLE PERSON IN GENERAL, BUT occasionally, I became introverted. If there were too many people around, then sometimes I needed to retreat to take a breath. That wasn’t an option tonight, and the bar was bursting at the seams with people I only recognized from various gossip tidbits and trade magazine write-ups.

The director was Miles Graham. He was thirty-two years old, with floppy brown hair, and a pair of the most adorable puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen. When he smiled, he lit up the entire room. His only downside as far as I could tell was that he brayed like a donkey when he laughed. He’d arranged for the dinner, and he made sure there were ten different entrees to choose from. Once everybody was done eating, the drinking started. He wanted us to engage in a genuine get-to-know-you extravaganza.

That’s how I ended up talking to Sylvia Day, the Susan Lucci of the group. Nobody else gave her that name mind you. That’s how she introduced herself. She’d been a staple in daytime television for forty years—although nobody knew exactly how old she was because her age was a closely-guarded secret—and this was her first prime time role since the eighties. She was excited, but determined to pretend she wasn’t. Like this new role wasn’t out of the norm for her.

“Should I start calling you Mother?” I teased her as we waited for the bartender, a cute guy named Levi, to finish our drinks.

Sylvia looked taken aback. “Why would you possibly do that?”

“Because you’re playing my mother on the show,” I replied without hesitation. To me, that seemed obvious.

Sylvia made a scoffing noise. “Are you serious? I thought you were one of the other coven members. They can’t have cast you to play my daughter. I would’ve had to have been twelve when I had you.”

I did the math in my head. If what Sylvia was saying was correct, that would’ve put her at forty-two. Now, even with some of the best work I’d ever seen, she still looked as if she was in her sixties. My guess was she was actually in her seventies … or maybe even eighties. Despite that, I held it together.

“You know how it is,” I said. “They always cast younger women in older roles, but they don’t do the same with men. It’s so sexist.”

Sylvia sipped her drink, considered it a second, then nodded. “That’s exactly what happened.”

I caught Levi’s grin from behind her back and had to avert my eyes in case I burst out laughing. He was clearly amused. He wisely didn’t say anything, though.

“Oh, look, it’s the witches,” a bottle blonde announced as she joined us at the bar. I knew who she was without having to search my memory. Her name was Bethany Daniel. She was in her forties but had done so much Botox she looked thirty. Her face didn’t move a single smidge when she smiled … or frowned … or screamed. It was frozen in time. She was notorious because she’d been on one of the biggest nighttime soaps twenty years before, had married a rock band drummer, and seemingly spent more time taking over the gossip mags than television screens now. Some people whispered that she had a drug problem. Other than the inordinate amount of booze I’d seen her throwing back tonight, she seemed pretty clear on what was happening. I was never one to believe the gossip. I had to see it with my own eyes. Even then, since it was none of my business, I didn’t often get involved.

“And you’re the head vampire,” I said to her with a grin.

“Yes, I’m supposed to be ageless.” Bethany tossed her hair over her shoulder in a Dynasty sort of way. “I think it’s the perfect role.”

“You’re playing Leo’s mother, correct?”

Bethany’s smile slipped. “Yes, although personally I don’t think I look old enough to play his mother. I mean … come on. I would’ve had to have still been in diapers.”

I glanced at Levi again and found him grinning like a fool.

“Since vampires are ageless, though, it doesn’t matter,” she continued. “Although, I do have a question.” She leaned her elbows on the counter and stared directly into my eyes. Now, up close and personal, I could see why someone might believe she was on drugs. Her pupils were definitely bigger than I’d ever seen.

“What’s your question?” I asked, forcing myself not to take a step back despite her proximity. I wasn’t a big fan of close talkers. I liked my personal space.

“Well, it says Ed Porter is the ‘patriarch.’” She used air quotes. “What exactly is he the patriarch of? Is it the vampires or the witches?”

“I hope it’s the vampires,” Sylvia said, making a face. “I don’t relish constantly having to make sure he’s not about to put his hand on my butt for the next six weeks.”

I was taken aback. “What?”

“Ed,” Sylvia said, jerking her chin toward the corner, to where a debonair sixty-something man was talking to two of the production hands, both of whom happened to be comely twenty-somethings with big breasts and short skirts. I’d noticed him trying to look down the server’s shirt during dinner and then had forgotten about him.

“I didn’t realize he was an actor,” I admitted.

“You probably wouldn’t know him,” Sylvia replied. “He would’ve been before your time.”

Technically, Sylvia had been big before my time too. I still knew who she was.

“He was also on a ridiculous western,” Bethany added. She was busy studying the signature drink list in front of Levi. “It was billed as a throwback to a simpler time. It espoused family values and all that other crap.”

“It was like Little House on the Prairie ,” Sylvia explained. “Do you even know what that is?”

Sure , Little House on the Prairie was way before my time, but I was familiar with the concept. “I used to watch it on reruns when I was a kid,” I assured her. “I’m familiar with the show.”

“Well, it was like that. It would’ve been on when you were either a toddler or not even born yet. It was a big deal for three or four years, and then everybody lost interest and it was canceled.”

“And he hasn’t worked since then?” I tried to wrap my head around that.

“He has, but mostly in Canada,” Bethany replied. “He got himself in trouble over here and had to go across the border because nobody here would hire him.”

Well, now she had my full attention. “What sort of trouble did he get in?”

“The sort he’s going to get himself in tonight.” Bethany wiggled her fingers at the younger women Ed was standing with. “He’s a butt man, and he doesn’t care if he has permission to grab your butt or not. You need to be careful with him.”

Did she mean me specifically, or was that a general “you”? I honestly had no idea. “Huh.” This time when I looked up at Levi, I found him watching me with sympathetic eyes. He also seemed to be darting dark looks in Ed’s direction. Before I could decide how I wanted to respond, Miles interrupted us … and I had never been so happy for an end to a conversation in my life.

“I need to talk to you,” he said to me. He smiled at Sylvia and Bethany but gave my wrist a little tug. “It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

“No problem.” I drained the rest of my drink—I’d been nursing it for an hour and wasn’t drunk—and followed him to a table in the corner of the room. I was already taking my seat before I realized Leo was sitting across from me. “Is he supposed to be here for this?” I asked.

Leo’s smile was impish as he sipped from his glass. Unlike everybody else in the room, he hadn’t gone out of the way to mingle. Not that I was watching him or anything. It was hard to miss him when he was sitting in the corner, alone, like a big, unfriendly baby.

“Yes,” Miles replied. If he sensed the tension between Leo and me, he didn’t show it. “I want to talk to you both together.” He was guileless as he sat between us. “I have to ask a favor of the two of you, and it makes me uncomfortable, but I want this show to be a success.”

Instantly my antenna went up. “What sort of favor?”

“Well, I was hoping the two of you might go out together.”

Was he joking? Was that supposed to be funny? “What?”

“Yeah, I’m confused too, Miles,” Leo said, his face impassive and not betraying a single emotion. “Why would we possibly go out together?”

“Because, if people think you’re dating in real life, it will build up natural buzz for the show,” Miles explained.

My heart began to sink. In hindsight, I realized I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was making the request. A show like this only made it if there was interest in the central love story. It was like a romantic comedy they were trying to make go viral. If the actors pretended—or at least didn’t deny—that what was happening on screen was creeping off screen, the movie or television show did better.

“We’re not dating,” Leo reminded Miles.

“Oh, I don’t actually expect you to date,” Miles assured him. “I’m not trying to force you to have sex or anything. That’s just … a big no-no. I thought you could head out on the town together, though. Go on a few tours. Just as friends.”

“But if a photographer happened to snap us together and sell those photos to one of the gossip rags, so much the better for the show,” I mused out loud. “You want people to think a romance is brewing between us because that will make them more interested in the romance between our characters.”

“Yes.” Miles looked relieved that I understood the concept, even though I hadn’t yet agreed to his request.

“Wait.” Leo abandoned his drink and leaned forward. “Are you saying you want us to pretend we’re dating to drum up fake buzz for this show?”

“It’s not necessary,” Miles replied hurriedly, correctly reading Leo’s tone. “It would just be helpful.”

“What sort of things would you want us to do exactly?” Leo gritted out.

“Well, since we’re not filming yet, I arranged a tour for tomorrow.” Miles twisted his fingers together as he tried to hold Leo’s gaze. “I don’t expect you to hold hands … or kiss. Just go on a walking tour and act as if you like one another.”

“And someone will be following to take photos?” Leo asked.

Miles nodded. “I know you’re going to say no?—”

“You’re damned right I’m going to say no,” Leo snapped. “I was not hired to date my co-star.”

“It’s free publicity,” Miles implored. “It’s an hour out of your day. I’m not asking you to do anything immoral. I just want to get people talking. It will be good for the show, which means it’s good for all of us.”

Leo shook his head but stopped when his eyes landed on me. “You can’t be for this,” he said when I was quiet for a beat longer.

“It’s just a tour,” I said to him, resigned. “Trust me, I don’t want to spend any more time with you than I have to. It’s good for the show, though. It’s not as if it will kill you to sit next to me on a tour bus.”

“It might,” he fired back.

I just shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said to Miles. “I’ll do it but … he’s not going to do what’s right for anybody but himself. You know his reputation.”

On the other side of the table, an emotion I couldn’t identify flashed in Leo’s eyes. This time when he spoke, he was calmer. “I’ll go on the tour,” he announced. He drained his drink and then stood. “I’m not holding her hand or kissing her, though. If you can turn a simple tour into buzz for the show, then go for it.”

“Really?” Miles looked absolutely thrilled. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me.” Leo was glum. “Thank her. I owe her for ruining her flight. That’s the only reason I’m doing this. Don’t ask me to do it again either.” With that, he strode away from the table and toward the door, leaving me staring in his wake, dumbfounded.

What in the hell was that?