Shen shrugged. “We couldn’t finish it in time. The only complete piece we have is the lake.”
Chris looked angry. Why was he so upset? What did it matter which scene she started with? He was such an emotional guy. She’d never thought that about a man before, much less one she’d spent barely an hour with in total, but that’s what he was—a bundle of feeling that he seemed to have a hard time controlling.
What must it be like, to have that kind of freedom of emotion?
No, wait. Freedom? That wasn’t right. His approach to life seemed too risky—too emotional. He’d started his own company without financial backing, dressed oddly, and showed everything he felt. He didn’t seem to want to follow any particular path, but rather blaze his own in every way.
That wasn’t freedom. That was danger.
She should run, far and fast. She should fear him and everything he stood for.
But she stayed where she was.
“Look, I know it’s an important scene. That’s why it’s taking so long. We don’t want to half-ass this.” Shen’s shoulders were tense.
Chris let out a long, disappointed breath. “Okay. Okay, that’s fine. I agree. It’s important.” He jerked his chin up at Shen in recognition. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Well, that was interesting. She had to admit, even though he was too emotional, he seemed like he usually did the right thing in the end. He’d apologized on Saturday for his comment on Friday night, and now he was agreeing with Shen.
That was…unexpected.
Chris pulled out the chair right next to her and sat down. “Actually, I’ll take over from here. You can go back downstairs, if you want, and keep working on it.”
Oh, dear. She and Chris, alone? She wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or relieved.
In the end, she realized…she felt both.
…
He’d touched her knee twice, she’d stroked his arm once, and their fingers had brushed so many times in the past twenty minutes that he’d lost count. Not because he hadn’t tried. He’d needed something to focus on other than the feel of her skin against his, the barely-there scent of her floral perfume, and the way that skirt showed off her long legs. Numbers were his usual refuge.
And they’d given him no comfort this morning.
He was already on edge because of how thoroughly Minh had invaded his thoughts over the weekend. And now he’d lost an hour of coding time because, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from her.
Shen could have easily shown her the scene, gone over the script, talked about some of the transitions they were looking for. But he’d gone and volunteered himself.
Like an idiot.
They’d just finished watching what the crew called “the lake scene” of the movie and Minh was scribbling something in the plain white legal pad she’d brought along. He’d almost laughed when she’d pulled it out of her brown canvas messenger bag, and he’d thought What a boring fucking bag.
It just didn’t add up. The way she’d acted on Friday night, all fire and passion…the music he’d heard, which for some reason she refused to acknowledge…that moment of charged intensity between them on Saturday morning.
And yet, this starchy appearance. Her stick-up-the-ass attitude. What was her deal? Who was she, really, behind those clothes? Underneath those clothes?
Fuck. He was again thinking of what she would look like naked. He was just too attracted to her. The way she sized him up in a glance and returned every word he said to her with an intensity that went straight to his gut. She saw him. He hadn’t imagined it. Earlier, she’d known he’d been thinking something not very nice about her clothes, and it had made him feel ashamed. He’d dropped it, tried to gloss over it, but for the first time in years, he felt…ashamed. Vulnerable.
She’d seen him. He’d felt it. The way she looked at him when he told her he hadn’t gotten much sleep over the weekend, and the understanding in her eyes bowled him over. He’d been turned on and turned around by the pull of that connection, and the feeling wasn’t going away.
It was almost as if his outward appearance didn’t matter. It was as though she’d managed to strip him naked and see all of him.
He wanted to show her all of him.
It was too quiet in here as she focused on writing, in which to torture himself with thoughts about how much he wanted to wrap that wildly curling hair around his fingers and pull her mouth to his.
She made him so goddamn uncomfortable.
If only Phantom Studios had a little more money. Then the clock wouldn’t be ticking quite so fast, and they wouldn’t be so desperate to find a decent, affordable composer. He could tell Minh not to bother, that he’d go find someone else.