My heart sinks. I was hoping he wouldn't offer. But he's Clay, so of course he will. He wants to see me succeed, even in this non-conventional circumstance. "Gloria, make one more set of calls and see if the agencies have found anyone. If not, we'll go with plan B."
"Okay." She pulls out her phone and moves away.
"How's everything going besides your unfortunate stand-in situation?" he asks.
"Fine," I say.
He raises an eyebrow. "That sounds like a lie."
"Everything on the show is fine," I say. "I've got some personal stuff going on. Nothing to worry about though."
He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Good girl. I know it's hard to keep it separate, but it's for the best."
"I hope so." I glance toward Peter, who's making notes in his script. I want nothing more than to go over and talk to him. But if we're possibly going to have to do this, I don't want to make it any worse.
"Sorry, no dice," Gloria says as she comes back over. “They're really apologetic, but they just don't have anybody who fits what we need. They're all too tall or brunette or something else."
"Well, I guess that settles it," I say, sighing. "Can you bring Peter over here please?"
"Sure." She flits over to him, and even though he gives me a cold look, he comes.
He sees Clay and reaches out to shake his hand. "What's going on?"
"We haven't found a replacement for Rebecca," I say, avoiding his gaze. "And since Clay was here anyway, he's graciously offered to take my place behind the camera while I stand in."
I see Peter's body go completely still. "You're going to stand in?"
"Apparently there are no five-foot something redheads available in L.A. today. So we’ll shoot your angles of the scene today, and we'll pick up the two-shots and Harley's side when she's back from New York tomorrow."
He nods shortly. "Okay. When are we going?"
"They're doing the last of the touch-ups now."
"Good." Then he turns and walks back across the set. Clay is looking after him, seemingly puzzled.
"He needs his space for emotional scenes," I explain. "But he always delivers more than what I ask, so it's a small price to pay."
Clay leans on the arm of my chair. "He's really that good?"
"I think so. I think he could be really big. Tom Cruise big."
He laughs. "That's ambitious, but go for it."
Gloria touches me on the arm. "Wardrobe needs you for the shirt."
"Right." We're only doing over-the-shoulder shots, so I shouldn't have to change my pants. I excuse myself and step into our wardrobe closet, which only makes things worse because all I can think about is how Peter fucked me up against that wall and it was one of the hottest moments of my life.
They get me into the shirt, which is far more revealing than something I would wear on set. And the minute I walk out the door, Peter and lock eyes. Heat rolls up my body, and I can't fight the flush on my cheeks. God, I wish they'd send me to make up so foundation would cover it. Thankfully I think I'm far enough across the room that he can't see.
But I want him to see. I want him to see that he still affects me more than ever. That I was wrong and I'm sorry, even if there's no way he'll ever be able to tell that from a blush.
I haven’t acted in…forever. It’s not that I don’t know how, or even that I’m expected to act as a stand-in, but it’s with Peter. I’m having flashbacks of us acting together, and all the moments that entailed.
Gloria is right though, I know the script by heart, and I know where I’m supposed to stand and what to do. Clay has draped himself in my chair, and I allow them to adjust the lighting as I step into the frame. The director of photography fixes the shot, and suddenly Peter is in front of me. His eyes are cold, professional.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Sure.”
Clay calls out. “Okay Amber, Peter.”
I move to my mark outside of the door to the apartment set. “And, action.”
Knocking on the door, I’m aware of the camera behind me, and it’s not Peter who answers the door, it’s Alex. Raw and sexy and fiery. He leans in the doorway. “Genova.”
I push past him into the set. “Alex.”
His presence pulses with energy behind me and we circle each other so the camera is behind me again. “What are you doing here?” I don’t answer, making a point of looking through his place, making myself comfortable. “I don’t think your father would like you being here.”
“My father doesn’t tell me where to go. Besides, I think he’d be comfortable knowing I’m safe with one of his most trusted lieutenants.” Genova suspects there’s something up with him, but that’s not why she’s here.
“I’m not that,” he says, prowling towards me. “Not yet.”
“You will be.”
He’s right in front of me now, and I can feel the energy pouring off him. I want to reach out and touch him, but not yet. That’s not in the script. But this feels like what we had just a couple of days ago, this vibrant, humming tension. We’ve always had good chemistry acting, and it’s harder not to let it bleed across the boundaries now then it was then.
“I’m not sure about that,” he says softly.
I look up at him then, seeing the want and love in his eyes that’s not for me. It’s for Genova, and it hurts. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t think your father’s going to be happy about me doing this.” He reaches out and pulls me toward him, and suddenly he’s kissing me.
Holy fuck.
Fire consumes me, and suddenly I’m kissing him back. Yes, yes, yes. My whole body is singing and somehow this is everything. The last two days thinking I’d never have this again, it’s amazing and perfect and it hurts because I know it might be the last time.
I get lost in this kiss, and I know that it’s not a character anymore. This is me and Peter. I want it. I’m not sure how I could have ever said otherwise. What a fucking idiot I am.
“Cut!”
The word rings out across the set, but it doesn’t register. I don’t stop kissing Peter. My arms are around his neck and I want to pull him closer. One more second, and he’s pulling away. I suddenly become aware that we were kissing well past cut, and Peter takes a step away from me.
I feel the weight of the stares of the crew, but all I can do is look at Peter, and I see him. Him. And he doesn’t hate me. I can see it in his eyes, the want and need as desperate as my own. I’m so relieved and so terrified about what just happened. Everybody saw.
Clay approaches mine. “Good, good. I think that was pretty good. You were right, Amber, he really delivers. I don’t think we need to get another take. But Peter, don’t forget you’ll still have to film the rest when Harley returns.”
“Of course.”
I turn to look at him, to smile, but he’s gone. He’s already half-way across the set, striding toward the door that leads to the lot. And all the hope I’d just built up slips away. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe even though I saw that he feels what I do, I wrecked it. Maybe he’s going to keep his word, that he’s not going to come back.