KATE
"Was the paparazzi following you?"I asked Drew when he showed up at my door in his holy-man disguise right at five-thirty.
He stepped inside and removed his wig and fake beard. "I don't think so, but I decided to wear this just in case." He shrugged out of the costume, his shirt slightly shifting to reveal a glimpse of his well-defined abs.
My cheeks heated at the sight of that sliver of skin. This was the second time I'd seen part of his torso today—which was probably a bad thing to keep seeing if I wanted to keep my wits about me.
Drew was dating Gwen, and I was supposed to push them to get engaged. Doing my job well would help me stay in Hollywood where I wanted to be. So, if I wanted to have my dreams of seeing my screenplays on the big screen someday, I needed to do my job.
And as nice as it would be, checking Drew out was not listed anywhere in my job description.
I drew in a deep breath to help push away those thoughts, then led Drew to my tiny kitchen table. "Would you like something to drink?"
"I'll take some water."
I reached into the cupboard and filled up a tall glass of water for Drew.
"So what is this story about?" Drew asked, after draining half his glass. "Did you decide on which one you wanted to pitch first?"
I rubbed the back of my hand. "I was thinking of doing the one I started writing two years ago. For now, the working title isThe Visitor."
"Oooh, sounds kind of alien-esque." Drew leaned closer and I found myself breathing in his intoxicating cologne.
Man, he smelled good.
"Let me guess,” he continued, not seeming to notice how his close proximity had affected me. “A really hot alien spy lands in this girl’s backyard, casts some sort of mind spell on her, and she invites him in. She takes care of him, tells him all the info he wants, and then he plans to fly away to tell his commander what he discovered. Only, he fell for her in the process. Then there's some sort of lovey-dovey montage, ending with a big kiss at the end." Drew stopped, leaned back with a smug smile on his face.
"As wonderful as that all sounds," I said, trying to play it cool, ”sadly, I didn't go with the alien, sci-fi angle."
"Darn it." Drew snapped his fingers.
"It's actually a story set back in the nineties, where this man shows up at a widow's house, beaten and bruised and all mysterious. She lives on a farm, and there are no other neighbors close by to help the guy, so she reluctantly invites him into her house—"
"See, I knew it was about a girl inviting a strange man into her house." Drew grinned proudly.
"Yes, good job. You paid attention to the title.” I chuckled. “Do you want to hear the rest of my synopsis or not?"
"Yes, sorry. Go on." He made a show of clamping his mouth shut and locking it with a pretend key.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "So she invites the guy into the house with her and her three young children, has him sit in the kitchen while she cleans him up, wondering how he came to be so beaten up. She tries asking him, but he won't give her a straight answer."
"Oh, so he's like a spy…kind of like I said," Drew interrupted again.
"Do you want to tell the rest of the story then?” I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Because I kind of feel like I'm a teacher being interrupted by a fourth grader."
"Sorry, Ms. Dawson."
I shot him a smirk. "So anyway, after she and the children have bandaged up the guy and let him rest, they come to find out that he's actually there to help them escape. He worked undercover for the CIA or something and knew that the area was about to come under attack. And just as he's telling them his story, their wheat catches on fire. It was a really dry year, and everything just bursts into flames and is getting closer to the house. The family scrambles to grab everything of value, but there's no time. The Visitor grabs the baby and the two-year-old, the widow carries the seven-year-old to the car, and then they drive off, leaving everything behind.
"They go into hiding somewhere and the guy helps them rebuild their life. As they work together, the man and the woman fall in love. Everything looks wonderful, until her presumably dead husband shows up. He's actually super evil and faked his death, and now he’s coming back to torture them…he's the real visitor that they have to worry about."
"Wow, that sounds intense," Drew said.
I scrunched up my nose. ”Too intense?"
“No,” he hurried to say. ”It’s just, I thought you said it was a romance. This sounds like a crazy thriller."
It had started out that way and had actually been more comedic in the first drafts, but in my revisions over the summer and fall, it had taken a twisted turn.