“So this is just some crazy coincidence? Please.”
“No, it’s not coincidence. It’s fate. I keep telling you that.” He takes a step forward, his expression serious. “I know you feel it, too. Or do you not remember how close we came to committing an illegal public act last night?” He winds an arm around my waist. I clench my jaw to stop myself from pressing against him. “We could finish what we started, you know. That table looks pretty sturdy.”
Everything slows down as I watch his mouth get closer, but thankfully, my sense of professionalism overpowers my insane attraction, and I find the strength to step away.
“Let’s just get these measurements done so we can get out of here,” I say in my most no-nonsense tone. I put down my clipboard and unfurl the measuring tape. “Arms up, please.”
He raises his arms. Because he’s so broad, I have to press against him in order to wrap the tape around his chest. When my nipples harden in response, I huff in frustration.
“Listen, Liss,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I bent the truth last night, but if I’d admitted I wanted to be an actor, I’d have missed out on the most incredible kiss of my entire life, and I have zero regrets about that. Let me take you out to dinner to make it up to you.”
“I can’t.” I write down his chest measurement on my clipboard.
“Sure you can.”
I look him in the eye. “No, I really can’t. Apart from anything else, you’re now in a show I’m running, so you’re totally off-limits to me.” I wrap the tape around his neck. When I graze his throat with my hand, he sucks in a quick breath. Thank God I’m not alone in being hot and bothered by our proximity. “And even if I was stupid enough to consider a workplace romance, which I’m not, you’re onstage, and I’m backstage. You might as well be a Montague and me a Capulet.”
“What, so actors can’t date crew?”
I wrap the tape around his waist, then move to his hips. “It’s not that they can’t, but most don’t. A lot of actors consider themselves above the crew and don’t date down.”
“I don’t consider myself above you. No, wait. . . .” He thinks for a second. “Last night there were several times I imagined myself above you. It was hot as hell.”
When I hear the smile in his voice, I look up from writing on my clipboard. “This isn’t funny.”
“It is, a little. I mean, come on.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for patience. I don’t know if I’m more pissed with him for deceiving me, or with myself for wanting him anyway.
“Liam, this is my first professional gig, and I can’t screw it up. Please don’t make things hard.” I take the outside seam of his legs, then try to keep my cool as I kneel in front of his crotch to take his inseam.
He moves his feet apart, but when my hand grazes his inner thigh, he blows out a tight breath. “I can’t make things hard, but you can? Doesn’t seem fair.” When I stand and glare, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “FYI, glaring at me also makes things hard. You’re sexy as hell when you’re angry.”
I give up trying to reason with him. “Shoe size?”
“Twelve.”
“Head?”
His eyebrows pull down. “Uh . . . are you offering, or—”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What’s your hat size?”
He shrugs. “Big?”
I scribble “large” on the form, and then hand him a folder of information and his script. He caresses my fingers as he takes the documents, but I step away.
“Elissa, come on. . . .”
“We’re done here.”
“This is crazy. I like you. You like me. Can’t we go somewhere and talk about this?”
“No point. It won’t change our situation. I’ll see you back here Monday night at six to read with our Juliets. Any questions?”
He stares at me for a few seconds. I stare back as impassively as I can.
“So, this is how it’s going to be between us now?”
“Yes. Is there anything else, Mr. Quinn?”
He gives me a bitter smile. “No, ma’am. You’ve explained everything very clearly.” He grabs his gear from the chair, but before I can walk away, he steps in front of me. He’s so close, I feel the heat of him in every inch of my skin. “Just so you know, I’m going to respect your work ethic and keep my distance while this show is happening, because I agree that working and romancing aren’t the best mix. But in two months, when this production is over, all bets are off, and then . . .” He licks his lips. “Well, by then I’m sure we’re both going to have so much sexual frustration, we’ll be begging for relief. And I intend to relieve you, Liss. Over and over again. You can trust me on that.”
When he strides out and the door closes behind him, I collapse into a chair. I don’t know if I’m trembling from disappointment or relief. But I do know Liam Quinn isn’t going to give me up without a fight, and that thrills me way more than it should.
FIVE
GETTING CLOSER
Two Weeks Later
Twelfth Night Theater