As for her, she was wearing yoga pants. Since that day she had hung from the harness with her ass on display for all of Los Angeles to see, she’d stuck to clothing with legs.
She looked past Trudy, noticed Michael was talking to a Starlet, his arm braced against the wall, that killer smile shining on the Starlet, who was smiling back like a simpleton. Leah turned away. She didn’t need to see that, and walked to the opposite end of the room to stretch a little before they got started. She spread her legs wide and bent over, letting her arms hang, stretching her back. She closed her eyes, practiced some breathing, and when she opened them, she saw, through a curtain of her blond hair, his sneakers. Leah bobbed back up so quickly that she felt a rush of blood leave her head, and swayed a little.
“Whoa,” he said, catching her by the elbow. “You okay?” he asked.
Her gaze instantly fell to his lips, which of course reminded her of that fabulous kiss, which naturally reminded her of sex—honestly, she was always thinking of sex when he was around. “Yeah,” she said, moving back a little. She put her hands on the small of her back and bent backward. “Actually, I’m great.”
“That’s good. We have a lot of work to accomplish today.”
“I’m ready,” she chirped, shaking one leg, then the other, before bending backward again.
Michael nodded, folded his arms across his chest, watching her as she bent backward, straightened, then bent backward again. “So . . .” he said, as she leaned to one side. “I take it you’re not a big fan of orchids anymore?”
Bent to one side, Leah puffed out her cheeks a minute as she considered the question, then released the air. “They sort of lost their appeal,” she said, very matter-of-factly. “You know, when everyone started getting flowers.”
“Hey,” Michael said, holding up a hand, looking damnably sexy. “No one else got orchids.”
“Orchids, roses, whatever,” she said with a shrug, and leaned to the other side. “Just seemed overdone.”
“Okay. But just so you know, you were the only one to ever get flowers from me on Mondays. Every Monday. And you were definitely the only one who ever got orchids.”
“Oh, really?” Leah asked nonchalantly. “I heard you were pretty good about handing yellow roses around, too.”
“Nicole,” he responded with a sigh.
“Nicole. Jill. Lindsey, the P.A.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Honestly, Michael, when did you have time to date all these women? I mean, you’re only thirty-eight, and there are only so many days—”
“I only sent Nicole flowers once,” he said, ignoring her question. “Yellow roses, it’s true—but I sent them because she had been nominated for a Golden Globe award.”
“Huh,” Leah said, and bent at the waist again, hanging down.
Michael squatted down next to her, cocking his head to see her face. “But I didn’t send Nicole Redding flowers because I loved her smile. That was why I sent you flowers. And I didn’t send flowers to Nicole every Monday because I needed to see that smile to make my week. That was your smile that made my day, and I’ve never seen one that could match it or take its place.”
Leah bounced up straight again. She pushed her hands through her hair. “That’s really sweet,” she said. “But I don’t want your orchids.”
Michael blinked. “Okay,” he said slowly. “So what would you prefer? Roses? Tulips? Larkspur?”
“Larkspur?” she echoed. “No. Nothing.” She put her hands on her waist and twisted one way, then the other, because if she looked in his eyes, she’d cave.
“Then maybe you’ll let me explain about Nicole—”
“Hey, no need,” she said quickly. “I get it.” At least she thought she was getting it, and while she wouldn’t mind maybe a little explanation about what exactly had gone on between him and Nicole, she just kept stretching her arms high overhead and looking past him.
But he suddenly stepped in her line of sight and looked at her suspiciously. “Have you been talking to Lucy, by any chance?”
Leah dropped her arms. “Why?”
“Just a guess,” he said with a slight roll of his eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Lucy is my best friend.”
“I know. It’s just that Lucy has a way of . . . let’s just say, coloring things.”
“Well,” Leah sniffed, and pressed her lips together. She didn’t have much to say to that because it was so true. Usually. “Not this time,” she said, and looked to where the other women were milling about. “So when do we start?”
“You and me? Hard to say,” he said with a warm smile. “I’m hoping we start over before we’ve wrapped this film. In the meantime, do me a favor, would you? Tell Lucy that I am very sorry, that I am trying to grovel, and I will do anything for a second chance, so if she has any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.”