She did for a while, anyway.
Then they got to the love scene.
How the hell had she forgotten about the love scene? But there she was, larger than life, her costar David’s mouth on her. His hands on her. And although she’d been wearing a tiny thong, the movie was shot in such a way that she truly looked naked. And now she was sitting there next to Griffin, and all she could do was imagine those were his hands. His mouth.
She kept looking straight forward, forcing herself not to glance sideways and see if he was peeking at her from underneath his hood. She doubted he was. There was a still, uncomfortable tension between them, and she had a feeling his eyes were locked forward just as hers were.
For the entirety of the scene, she barely breathed. Then, when it was over, she slowly relaxed, finally feeling distanced enough from the scene to lose that awkwardness and reach for the popcorn.
His hand was there, too.
Their fingers touched, and she pulled her hand back. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s okay, I—” He stopped abruptly, took a breath, and started over. “I’m not a popcorn hog.”
She turned to look at him more directly, trying to read from his expression if he was as turned on from the scene as she was. Or, more specifically, from sitting near him while they watched the scene. But once again, she couldn’t get a read on him.
Honestly, the man was as good at hiding his emotions as she was.
“This part’s really good,” she said, nodding to the television, grateful for the train sequence that was about to begin. She didn’t lie; the scene was even better than what she’d read in the script, and it was the lead-in to the climax of the movie, so that by the time the final credits rolled, they’d both fallen back against their pillows, limp with relief that the heroes had saved the day.
“That was awesome,” he said. And then more softly. “You were awesome.”
She’d been told that many times, but for some reason it meant so much more coming from him. She edged toward him, then reached for his left hand. To her shock, he let her take it.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes on his. She leaned forward, wanting to taste his lips, knowing she was pushing, but not caring anymore. She wanted this. And after the last two hours, her body was on fire.
He cleared his throat, then sat up, tugging his hand from hers, then running both his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “Wow. That movie was over two hours.”
She fought the urge to curse, wondering if he was intentionally cutting her off, or if he hadn’t picked up on her vibe. She decided to go with the latter. Better for her ego.
“We should go work,” he said. “Holt will have both our asses if we hold this process up.”
Since she couldn’t argue with that, she didn’t. She just followed him into the living room and, as they always did, she settled into the chair behind him while he fired up the computer.
At first, she felt both awkward and denied. Thankfully, that passed as she got lost in the script.
“This line is redundant,” Griffin said, highlighting a block of text. “Hammond said almost the same thing last scene. Ditch it?”
“Absolutely.” She leaned forward as he scrolled down, then pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “And I don’t think Angelique would argue with Hammond right now.”
She stood up, one hand on the back of his chair as she reached over to tap the screen. “This bit,” she said. “It doesn’t quite sound like him.”
Her mouth was close to his head, and she breathed in the freshly washed scent of his ever-present hoodie as well as the masculine scent of the man himself.
She eased back, the longing she’d felt on the bed rushing back.
Down girl.
“You may be right,” he said, moving the cursor to highlight some text. “She’s not going to show her cards yet.”
“Exactly.” She started to stand up straight, but stumbled, her balance off a little, probably because of the wine. She steadied herself by resting her hand on his right shoulder. She felt the hard, ridged scar tissue beneath his T-shirt and hoodie. And she also felt his muscles tense.
“Beverly.”
“Yes, that line,” she said, pretending to misunderstand.
“Beverly, don’t.”