I see pity in his expression when he cups my cheek. “I understand. And luckily, I can say without a hint of a lie that I’ve never set foot on a stage in my life. I work in construction with my dad. Have ever since I left school.”
For a moment, I swear I’ve heard incorrectly. “Wait a minute. You’re actually a . . . construction worker?”
“Yes.”
I stifle a laugh. “You don’t happen to have friends who are policemen, cowboys, and Native Americans, do you?”
His brows furrow. “No. Why?”
“Not important. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Maybe I would have ripped off your shirt on the roof after all.”
He shrugs. “My girlfriend just dumped me for being a broke blue-collar worker. I guess you’re not the only one who’s afraid of rejection.”
I feel myself beaming. “Well, Leanne’s an idiot. I couldn’t be happier that you’re a construction worker. Best job ever.”
“Seems to me if you were truly happy about it, you’d kiss me again.”
I rise on my toes and capture his mouth. He makes a noise in his throat that vibrates all the way through his body. Then, he presses me back against the wall and takes charge again. Lord, his mouth is talented. And what’s more, he tastes incredible. Milk and cookies is now my favorite flavor.
After a few more frantic minutes, I really can’t breathe, so I pull back and stroke his chest. “Okay, we could do this all night, but it’s almost three a.m., and I wasn’t lying about having a big day tomorrow.”
He leans his forehead against mine, and his breathing is tight. “What are you doing tomorrow? And please say it includes seeing me again.”
“I can’t. I’m stage-managing Romeo and Juliet for the Tribeca Shakespeare Festival and our Romeo auditions are tomorrow.”
For a few seconds he looks confused. Then he smiles and shakes his head. “That’s . . . well, that’s great. Romeo auditions. Important job. So . . . uh . . . how are they going to figure out who gets the role?”
“The director’s looking for a strong, passionate Romeo. Usually he’s played as a whiny boy, but she’s wants a man.”
He studies me for a few moments. “Sounds reasonable. Can I see you when you’re done?”
I pull him down for a soft kiss. “Maybe.”
He steps away from me and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes.’ Now, you should probably leave while I have the strength to let you go. But first, give me your phone.”
“What for?”
“Quick selfie to capture the moment.”
I reach into my pocket and hand my phone over. He blows out a breath and brings up the camera. “Come here.” He puts his arm around me and pulls me into his side. “Ready?”
He holds the phone out, but before I can look up into the lens, he pulls my face around and kisses me, long and slow. Through a surge of dizzying hormones, I’m vaguely aware of the shutter clicking in the background.
When he pulls back, he shows me the picture. I get hot just looking at it. We look amazing together. Like we belong in a million-dollar ad campaign instead of a selfie.
He kisses me once more. “So you don’t forget me while we’re apart.”
As if that’s even remotely possible.
He pushes my phone into my back pocket, and not so subtly grazes my butt in the process. “See you soon, Liss.”
No one’s ever called me Liss before. Lissa, yes, but not Liss. Coming from him, it’s perfect.
He turns to leave, but I grab his arm. “Wait, you don’t have my number.”
“You refused to give it to me, remember?”
“That’s when I thought you were an actor. Construction-worker Liam can have my phone number and address. Hell, you can have my social security number, too, if you want it.”
He smiles and leans down for a final soft kiss. “Don’t need it. I’ll find you again.” He steps back and walks away.
“You seem awfully sure about that,” I say to his back.
He turns and gives me a smug smile. “I am. It’s fate.”
FOUR
AUDITION HELL
I rub my eyes.
It’s been a long-ass day. If I never hear another verse of iambic pentameter, it’ll be too soon. We’ve seen thirty-two Romeos today, and most of them had no clue what the hell they were doing. If auditions were people, this one would be Charlie Sheen. It was a disaster.
Beside me, our director, Miriam, is rubbing her temples.
“How?” she says, in a whiny tone. “In this massive city where every second waiter is a goddamn actor, how can we have zero serious Romeo candidates? I don’t understand.”
“Maybe we have to throw our net a little wider. Try some of the students at The Grove?”
“What about your brother?” Miriam asks. “I know he auditioned for Mercutio, but if I can’t find someone else to do Romeo, I may need to switch him around.”