His Larkville Cinderella

chapter SEVEN



FRIDAY night, Megan turned down an invite to go out with the crew to a bar. She didn’t want to be antisocial, but tiredness had finally gotten the best of her. Home in bed was the only place she belonged.

Saturday flew by. Sleeping in late. Laundry, napping. Her phone didn’t ring or beep. She wanted to make the most of her free time. Rosie had told her once they were on location they might only get a day off a week.

By Sunday, Megan got antsy. She kept thinking about the lot, wondering how other people were spending today. Well, not all the crew. Adam.

She needed to have her head examined. Or better yet, find something to do so she would stop thinking about him.

Plopping onto a chair, she hit the power button on the television remote. Maybe she could find a movie to watch. A comedy would be good.

Megan surfed through the various channels. Adam appeared as the Roman god Neptune, standing on top of a wave. She let go of the remote.

Talk about gorgeous. She sighed.

What in the world was she doing? Megan was practically swooning over the guy. She turned off the TV.

No reason to go gaga over Adam Noble. Crushing on him was a total waste of time. He was the last person she should ever date, her internship aside.

She’d spent her entire life in the shadows. No one except her father and Rob had ever paid any real attention to her and made her feel important. She wanted to matter to someone, be an equal, not be overshadowed by his larger than life personality and in-the-spotlight career. Any woman who dated Adam, even his flings, ended up in the public eye, on view and scrutinized. No thanks. She’d had enough of that in Larkville.

Megan knew what would take her mind off Adam. She reached for her sketchpad and pencils.

Time to design a sundress worthy of the vintage fabric she’d purchased at a thrift store. The bodice seemed like a good place to start. Something fitted, a little retro looking to match the fabric. Slowly, the dress took shape both in her mind and on paper.

A knock sounded at the door.

Megan jumped. She glanced at the clock. Two hours had passed by. She’d been concentrating so hard she’d lost track of time. She rose. Probably Mrs. Hamilton from downstairs. Yesterday the elderly woman had needed help to locate her cat, Jack, who kept running away. Megan had found the orange tabby rummaging in the recyclable bin and returned him.

She opened the door. Shock rocketed through her.

Not Mrs. Hamilton. Adam.

He stood on her porch wearing a pair of board shorts, a plain white T-shirt and flip-flops. Somehow he made the casual clothing look like haute couture. His hair was mussed. Razor stubble covered his chin. He held a pair of sunglasses in one hand and a manila envelope in the other.

Megan clutched the doorknob. She tried to speak, but her tongue felt two sizes too big for her mouth. A million questions ran through her mind.

He greeted her with a charming smile that reached all the way to his clear green eyes. “Hello.”

“Hi.” She forced the word from her Sahara-dry mouth. “What are you doing here?”

He held up the envelope. “I have your autographed photo.”

One question answered. Might as well ask the next one. “How did you find out where I live?”

“My assistant, Veronica.”

That didn’t explain how his assistant had gotten the address. Connections, perhaps?

Adam glanced over his shoulder. “Mind if I come in? I didn’t see any paparazzi following me, but you never know.”

She had more than enough reasons to not want him in her apartment, but she also didn’t need a picture of her and Adam together finding its way to Eva.

Megan loosened her grip on the knob and stepped back. “Come on in.”

As soon as Adam entered, his wide shoulders and six-foot height made the apartment feel ten times smaller. His male scent enveloped her. He smelled spicier today. Maybe he’d used a different soap or aftershave.

He looked around. “Nice place.”

Thank goodness she’d cleaned up yesterday and made her bed this morning. The apartment wasn’t big, a large room with an efficiency kitchen and eating area off to one corner, two closets and a bathroom. But the small space had a lot of character with high ceilings, crown molding, picture rails, tall wood pane windows and hardwood floors.

“It works well for what I need,” she said. “It’s in a safe area and reasonably priced.”

He handed her the envelope. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She still couldn’t believe Adam was here. “But you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble delivering it in person. I’ll be at the lot tomorrow.”

“I don’t have a lot going on today.”

A guy like him? She found that hard to believe. “I appreciate it.”

“You weren’t at the bar Friday night.”

Megan hadn’t thought a big-name star like him would hang out with the crew. “I was tired.”

He slanted a brow. “Nothing else going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Rob.”

Oh, man. She wanted to die of embarrassment. “I haven’t been throwing myself a pity party if that’s what you’re asking.”

A sheepish grin formed on Adam’s lips. “It was.”

She grimaced. “I’m not a total loser. I was worn-out Friday night. The only thing I wanted to do was go home and crawl between the sheets.”

Adam glanced at her queen-size bed with a brown-and-pink-striped comforter, light blue bed skirt and coordinating pillows on top. “Sounds like the perfect place to spend a Friday night.”

His flirtatious, almost suggestive tone sounded warning bells in her head. She frowned. “It was. I slept. Alone.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “You look rested.”

What was he doing here? She squared her shoulders. “I am.”

“You were missed at the bar.”

Yeah, right. No one ever missed her. Not when they hardly noticed when she was around. “That’s nice of you to say, but I’m sure Kenna and Rosie were too busy flirting to notice I wasn’t there.”

“I wasn’t talking about them,” he clarified. “I missed you.”

She hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh.”

“I sent you a text that night, but never heard back.”

“I silenced my phone when I went to bed. I didn’t want to be woken up. I never turned the sound back on.”

“It’s good to see you’re okay.”

Realization dawned. “The autographed photo was your excuse to come over.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She didn’t know if she should be annoyed or pleased. “I’m not some mentally unstable, psycho chick who would hurt myself.”

“I know that.”

“Then why are you here?”

He shifted his weight between his feet. “I remember how upset my mom got when things didn’t work out with a guy she liked.”

“Pity party?”

“To the nth degree,” he admitted. “She would stay in bed for days and cry her eyes out. If I hadn’t brought her food, she wouldn’t have eaten.”

Sympathy replaced Megan’s irritation. “Who took care of you while this was going on?”

He raised his chin. “I took care of myself.”

Megan couldn’t imagine. The only person she’d ever taken care of was her nephew, Brady, when she babysat. “How old were you?”

Adam walked farther into her studio. “It started when I was four. She can still be like that, but now she has a household staff to take care of her when it happens.”

She knew the hardships Jess and Brady had been through. Adam might look like the golden boy, but his childhood sounded like it had been rough.

Megan touched his arm. His muscles tensed beneath her palm. “Adam...”

He shrugged off her hand. “It’s nothing. Really.”

His words didn’t match the emotion darkening the color of his eyes. But he’d come over here out of concern for her. No way would she push or pry into something he didn’t want to talk about.

“Well, you’ll be relieved to know that not only have I not had a pity party, I also haven’t shed one tear all weekend.”

Which, come to think of it, was really weird. She had cried over Rob for much less over the years. Those sobfests used up boxes of tissue.

Why hadn’t she cried this time?

Adam stared into her eyes. “Your eyes are clear and bright, not red and swollen.”

She smiled smugly.

His gaze raked over her. “But you’re still wearing pajamas.”

Heat stole up Megan’s neck until her cheeks burned. She’d been so busy working on the sundress design she hadn’t showered and changed. She glanced down. Bare feet. Purple zebra-striped fuzzy pants. A black camisole. No bra.

Oops. She crossed her arms over her chest, holding the envelope in front of her like a shield. As if that would make a difference now...

His eyes, no longer dark, twinkled with mischief. “Don’t be embarrassed. You look cute in your jammies.”

Cute. The word sent a shiver down her spine.

Guys called their female friends cute. Women, at least those that men wanted to date, were labeled sexy. Not that she wanted to date Adam. She didn’t. But she was wearing a cami without a bra.

And then she realized what was going on. Adam wasn’t impressed with her average body. Why would he be when he was surrounded by knockouts like Lane Gregory’s on a daily basis? Megan bit the inside of her cheek.

“No worries,” he added. “Women go out in public wearing a lot less.”

She remembered the women at the beach when she’d first met Adam. Those tiny bikinis barely covered anything. If he didn’t think her body wasn’t a big deal, she wasn’t going to act embarrassed wearing her jammies and being braless in front of him. She uncrossed and lowered her arms.

“Check the picture,” he said. “Make sure it’s what you wanted.”

“You mean what Rob wanted,” she corrected.

Megan opened the envelope flap and removed an eight-by-ten glossy photograph. A gorgeous shot of him from an upcoming release, a movie, based on the watermark in the corner, titled Navy SEALs. She read his inscription.





Pru,



Happy Birthday! Thanks for being such a great fan. Appreciate all your support.



Love,



Adam





“Thank you.” His thoughtfulness warmed Megan’s insides. “This will make Rob happy.”

Adam’s gaze met hers. “I want you to be happy.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. Okay, seven.

Looking down, she slid the photo back into the envelope. She placed the envelope on top of the table. “I am happy. I have my internship, this charming apartment and am making new friends on the set.”

“So you’ve put Rob behind you?”

“He’s with Prudence,” Megan said. “Not much I can do about that.”

“You could tell him how you feel.”

Megan had lost her dad. She couldn’t face the thought of losing Rob, too. That was a distinct possibility, more like a hundred percent probability, if she told him her true feelings. It was safer to plan and dream. “I can’t.”

Adam raised a brow. “Even if it means losing him to Prudence?”

The question swirled through Megan’s mind. “I don’t know.”

“You might want to think about it.” Adam strode to her chair where she’d been working on the sundress design. He set his sunglasses on an end table and picked up her sketchbook. “What’s this?”

Megan inhaled sharply. “Nothing.”

“It looks like something.” He studied the page. “You drew this?”

Her muscles bunched. She’d never forgotten the way her mom laughed at Megan’s first and only attempt to put on a fashion show. She should have known better, but she’d wanted her mother to be proud of her and tell people about both her daughters, not only Jess. “I was playing around this morning.”

“You’re talented.”

What else was he going to say? You suck? “Thanks.”

“Don’t duck your head. I’ve been dragged to enough fashion weeks and costume meetings to know talent when I see it.”

She straightened. “Design classes were my favorite in college. Nothing like putting on a piece of clothing that started with nothing more than a few lines on a sketchpad.”

“This is for you?”

Maybe she’d been trying too hard to fit in. She raised her chin. “I might wear jeans at work, but that doesn’t mean I wear them 24/7.”

“You also wear pajamas.”

“I should change.”

“Not on my account.”

Disappointment shot through her. “You’re leaving.”

“Not unless you want me to go.”

“I don’t.” The words rushed out before she had time to think. “Unless you have somewhere else to go.”

“I’d rather stay here,” he said to her unexpected relief. “But I’m a casual type of guy so there’s no need for you to put on something else. Pajamas are the perfect attire for a Sunday afternoon. I take it you were planning to take it easy today.”

Megan fought the urge to cringe. She had asked Adam to stay. Here. With her. Maybe she needed her head examined, after all. “Um, yes. A little design work. Order a pizza. Watch a movie or two.”

“Pizza and movies are two of my favorite things.”

“O-kay.” Her insides twisted with unease. “But you’d have more fun riding some wave or jumping off a building.”

“This will be fun enough.” He sat in her chair, crossing his feet at the ankles. “I’m not allowed to do any of my normal activities while we’re shooting. Don’t want to put the production in jeopardy.”

“Thank you from someone grateful to have an internship during the shoot.”

“You’re welcome.”

A beat passed. And another.

Megan didn’t know what to say or do. Lying on a bed of knives might be more comfortable than this.

She didn’t know if Adam was bored or lonely or simply a big flirt, but nothing like this had ever happened to her before with a guy other than Rob dropping by, much less a movie star. She wasn’t sure how to handle it. Or him.

“So what kind of movie do you want to watch?” Adam asked. “A romantic comedy?”

“Straight comedy.” Something romantic wouldn’t be a smart idea with him here. Who was she kidding? Nothing about spending time with Adam was smart. In fact, she could be in real trouble if anyone in the costume department found out he was here. But she couldn’t deny a part of her enjoyed the attention. She would have to be careful not to let that enjoyment go too far. “The cable has streaming videos on demand. You pick a movie. I’ll order the pizza.”

* * *

The thought of spending a Sunday afternoon relaxing had appealed to Adam on a gut level. He never hung out and did nothing. He was looking forward to it. Except being around Megan was far from relaxing.

Forget about watching the movie on the television, he wanted to look at her.

As if on cue Megan shifted positions on the bed, rolling onto her stomach. The scoop neck of her camisole gave him a better view of soft, ivory skin. His temperature shot up.

“This is a funny movie,” she said.

Adam looked at the television screen. “Yeah.”

His gaze wanted to stray back to her. It wasn’t just her nice breasts or her expressive eyes, but the way her curly hair fell halfway down her back.

He was attracted. Very attracted.

That was bad. Very bad.

A perfectly good bed was going to waste at the moment, but he didn’t care. Not when he felt as if he was struggling to remain in control around her. Not physically, though there was an element of that, but emotionally. Considering Adam didn’t do emotion, he wasn’t sure what to think.

She laughed at something from the movie.

He hadn’t a clue what, but the sound curled around him like a lover’s embrace.

What the hell was going on?

Okay, she was smart, funny, unpredictable, pretty, though she would disagree about that.

But none of those things explained why he lowered his guard around Megan. Something he never did. Worse, it didn’t seem to be a conscious decision.

Maybe it was her honesty or her straightforwardness.

Maybe parts of Maxwell were seeping into Adam’s real life.

But he couldn’t believe he’d told her about his mom. No one, not even his agent, knew any of that. Adam hadn’t even needed a lot of prompting.

Bad, bad, bad.

He didn’t want anyone to know about his childhood and family. It was nobody’s business and better left in the past.

Or forgotten altogether.

There was a reason he had flings not relationships. He’d learned the hard way that love only ended up hurting. It didn’t last.

Which was why Megan should stay in the friend zone. Sure, he wanted to sleep with her. A friend with benefits. That might get her mind off Rob, but would that be the best thing for her? Adam’s consideration of Megan’s feelings was enough to tell him to stay far away from her. At least when it came to a physical relationship. He liked taking risks, but he wasn’t stupid.

What if he really liked Megan? She was different enough she could turn his world inside out.

Not worth the risk.

* * *

Monday, Megan couldn’t believe how the atmosphere on the set crackled with tension, a one-hundred-eighty-degree shift from Friday. Unforeseen delays had put a wrench into the schedule. Tempers flared. Voices rose. The background artists sat around with nothing to do except take up space.

An unexpected break gave Megan time to return Adam’s sunglasses. He’d forgotten them at her apartment yesterday. Passing them off in public rather than private would have been better. His friendliness and confidence appealed to her and sent her hormones into overdrive whenever he was near. But she hadn’t seen him on the set.

At his trailer, Megan removed his sunglasses from her pocket. She’d cleaned the lenses last night and placed them in a padded holder so they wouldn’t get damaged.

She had it all planned out—return the sunglasses, thank him for keeping her company yesterday and then say goodbye. No matter how much fun she had with him or how attractive he might be, keeping her distance was the smart thing to do.

This morning Eva had mentioned staying away from the lead actors. It was a generic warning, but a warning nonetheless. One that set warning bells ringing in Megan’s head. A good thing Adam seemed satisfied with being friends. What guy spent an afternoon sitting on a bed and watching movies without making a move? Not one who was attracted to her. She must have her own spot reserved in the friend zone.

His trailer door was ajar.

Megan heard a voice, Adam’s voice. He was rehearsing lines.

She waited at the door. He stopped talking. Something thudded. A book?

Megan knocked.

The door opened more from the weight of her hand against it.

“Not now,” his harsh voice barked.

Megan felt like she’d been slapped, but she didn’t think he knew it was her. She couldn’t see him through the crack in the door. He doubted she could see him. “I have your sunglasses.”

“Keep them.”

She tried not to take his impatient tone personally. His moodiness was a total shift from how lighthearted he’d been yesterday. But she wasn’t keeping his sunglasses. She wanted nothing to tie her to Adam, not even a little bit. For the sake of her internship, she rationalized. “I’ll set them inside the door.”

“Whatever.”

As Megan opened the door farther, she saw Adam. He faced to the right side of the trailer, giving her a view of his profile.

Deep lines on his forehead and around his frowning mouth matched the tension in the air. He stared at the script in his hands. His grip tightened until an edge crinkled. With a shake of his head, he smoothed the wrinkles on the page with his thumb.

She hated how pained he seemed. But he’d made it clear he didn’t want company. Time to get out of here. She set the sunglasses on a table.

As she backed out of the trailer, the door creaked.

He cursed. “Just go.”

She hesitated. Adam looked like he needed a friend or a hug, but she doubted he’d admit it. “I’m going.”

He glanced up from the script. “Megan?”

The emotion in his eyes filled her with compassion. His gaze, usually full of confidence and strength, contained a look she knew well—one of nerves and self-doubt.

Megan’s heart melted at his unexpected vulnerability. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I wanted to return your sunglasses.”

He dragged his hand through his hair, looking tortured. “Ignore me. I’m in a bad mood. The scene I’m shooting soon is killing me. I can’t get the lines right.”

She had no idea he took his acting so seriously. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“There is.” He handed her the script. “Read Calliope’s part.”

Maxwell’s wife. Lane Gregory’s role. Megan’s stomach knotted. “O-kay, but I’m better dressing and undressing actors than being one.”

Adam didn’t crack a smile. He pointed to a line. “I’m going to start here. Ready?”

She nodded, even though she felt completely out of her element.

“Tell me the truth.” He gazed deeply into Megan’s eyes, making her insides quiver. “Are you involved in this?”

Megan glanced at the script. “Unbelievable. After everything we’ve been through...”

“Calliope.”

His anguish, both visible and verbal, gave Megan goose bumps. “Max.”

“Answer my question.”

“You know my father. He thinks women are incapable of anything other than shopping and sex. He has never involved me in his business dealings. Legal or otherwise.”

A beat passed. And another.

His nostrils flared. “Do you love me?”

His words sounded...mean. Spiteful. Wrong.

“Of course, I, um...” Her tongue stumbled over the next word. She lost her place in the script. “Sorry.”

“It’s not you,” Adam said. “Those four words get me every time.”

Do you love me?

A warm and fuzzy feeling flowed through her. She could fall in love with him.

Correction. Not Adam, Rob. She could fall in love with Rob.

Wait. She was already in love with Rob. At least she thought she was. She clutched the script.

“The emotion is off,” Adam continued.

“You sounded mean, angry.”

He blew out a puff of air. “I’m hitting the wrong notes. Maxwell wouldn’t feel that way here. He’s confused, trying to figure out what’s going on and who set him up.”

The frustration in Adam’s voice tugged at Megan’s heart. She wanted to help him. She’d never acted, but she’d spent plenty of time at the theater in college. She’d taken film courses because character and story could be enhanced by costumes. Surely all those hours hadn’t been a waste of time and tuition.

She thought for a moment. “What do you want Calliope’s answer to be? Not you, I mean, Maxwell.”

Adam’s brow furrowed. “I know what she says.”

“So do I.” Megan waved the script. “But is that the answer Maxwell wants to hear? Is he expecting her to say she doesn’t or is he hoping she does? That might help you figure out the right emotion to use.”

Adam closed his eyes. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

She stayed quiet so she wouldn’t disturb him.

A minute, maybe two, passed. His eyes opened. The creases on his forehead remained, but they weren’t as deep. The lines bracketing his mouth relaxed. “Let’s try it again.”

The dialogue flowed smoother this time. Megan still wasn’t sure what she was doing, but knowing she was helping made her relax a little.

“You know my father. He thinks women are incapable of anything other than shopping and sex. He has never involved me in his business dealings. Legal or otherwise.”

A beat passed. And another.

“Do you love me?” Anxiety gave an edge to the anticipation in his voice.

“Of course I love you.” She sounded husky, unnatural.

“Prove it.”

The potent mix of hope and fear in Adam’s gaze mesmerized her. The line she was supposed to say flew from her mind. She glanced down at the script but the words had blurred.

Megan parted her lips, as if that would be enough of a prompt to make her remember what she was supposed to say.

“If you won’t,” he said. “I will.”

Adam lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss jolted her. She gasped, but didn’t back away.

Heat. Sparks. Proverbial fireworks.

His lips moved over hers with an expertise that left her breathless and wanting more. He touched her with only his mouth, but sensation pulsated through her until she curled her toes.

She arched against him, wanting to be closer to him. Her arms circled him. Her hands splayed his back.

The fireworks continued. The kissing, too.

She’d never been kissed like this, never felt this way before. She wanted it to keep going.

Slowly Adam ended the kiss and stepped back.

Her lips tingled. Her heart pounded.

Adam looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something.

Another kiss? Anticipation soared. “What?” she asked.

He blinked twice, then turned the script toward him. He ran his finger along the page, as if he’d lost his place, too, and pointed. “It’s your line.”

He sounded a little breathy. From the kiss? She hoped so because that was exactly how she sounded, too.

Megan focused on the words and reread. The script called for a passionate kiss between Calliope and Maxwell. Her heart dropped to her feet. The kiss hadn’t been an impromptu one. It had followed one of the lines of dialogue.

Adam must have gotten caught up in the scene and kissed her, assuming she was going along with it, too.

Except she’d thought the kiss was for real. But while kissing him might have felt like the Fourth of July, the fireworks hadn’t been real. This was a rehearsal for when he kissed another woman, a beautiful, sexy woman. Nothing more.

Instead of fueled by a mutual attraction and heat, the kiss had no real emotion to it. At least not from Adam. He flirted and was used to kissing women while acting. This wasn’t about her or him but his career. That was where his vulnerability lay. If he truly had any interest in something deeper than friendship, he couldn’t have kissed her so passionately, then stand there like it meant nothing.

But he was standing there as if nothing had happened between them.

Megan struggled to breathe. She needed to get away from him. Now.

“I need to get back to work.” She handed him the script. “You don’t need me anymore. You nailed the line.”

His gaze remained on her. “Thanks for the help.”

Megan didn’t know how to reply because right now she was wishing she’d never stepped foot in his trailer. That kiss would stay with her a long time. Maybe forever.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

With that, Megan exited the trailer. She hurried back to the costume area. She touched her lips, still tingling and swollen. Losing herself in Adam’s kiss had been a severe lapse of judgment, one she couldn’t repeat. And wouldn’t.

No matter how much she might want to kiss him again.