I explain a few changes I want in the scene, then turn back to my notes. Why do I care if Kyle flirts with her all day? It’s none of my business. I hear her voice and find myself staring at her face again.
Stop it Aidan. You will never taste those lips.
You will stop thinking about her as anything other than an actress on your play.
An annoying one at that.
I will stop thinking about her.
The scene ends, and I push up from my seat. “Good. We’re done for today.”
Kyle grins at me. “Sure, boss.”
I can feel Liz’s eyes on me as I walk away. I can feel her like she’s actually touching me.
Taking a deep breath, I quicken my pace. I just needed to control my thoughts about her until the play opens and my involvement becomes minimal.
Easy.
Right?
As soon as I enter my office
, I hear my phone vibrating from inside the desk drawer. I take one look at the screen and take the call.
“Sup.”
“I take it you’re in rehearsals.” My brother Landon’s measured voice fills my ear. He sounds concerned, which isn’t new. He’s only five years older but has been looking out for me since our mother died when I was four.
He’s also almost totally uninvolved in theater, except as an occasional investor. So, it’s easy to vent to him.
“You have no idea,” I complain. “I have to work with this Broadway princess whose dad is producing the play.” My mind fills with an image of Liz’s face and I scowl. “If she wasn’t so talented, I’d fire her and tell her dad to go to hell.”
Landon sounds amused. “If she’s so talented, what is the problem?”
“Where do I start?” Her attitude? Her barely concealed dislike? To be fair, that was because she’d heard me dismissing her, but I’m not planning to tell Landon that. “Forget about all that,” I say instead. I haven’t seen him since his birthday a week ago. “What’s up?”
He tells me about his work, just the interesting parts. Landon manages the Swanson Court hotels that have been in our family for decades. He has big visions for the chain, and sometimes, he shares them with me, even though I have no real interest in the minutiae of luxury accommodation.
I listen to support him, just as he always supported me in my career.
“I need to know more about the girl you sent over to my apartment,” he says after a few minutes.
We’d been talking about the progress of work in the new San Francisco hotel, and I don’t follow the change of topic.
“What girl?”
“On my birthday,” he clarifies. “The hooker.”
I try to remember, genuinely puzzled. My experiences with women are rich and varied and include a few enjoyable adventures with women who’d turned out to be escorts. It’s not something I ever planned to make a habit, though I respect how clear the terms are, and how they never expect anything afterwards.
I’d offered to get Landon an escort on his birthday. It was a joke, and he’d turned me down. I had since forgotten about it.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The hooker you sent to my apartment as a birthday present.”
“Landon, you told me you weren’t interested, remember?”