Chapter Four
Susan shouldered her duffel bag and headed toward the exit of the Rowe and Thompson offices. No one else was in, this time of morning. Heck, even the sun was barely peeking its head over the mountains. She couldn’t ignore the trace of disappointment that she had to work today. Part of her hoped, if she came in later—around nine or ten—she’d accidentally run into Andrew, like she had yesterday. Mercy set up a temporary office for him while he was in town, so he could work closely with her staff. Susan wasn’t sure what it was about him that fascinated her, but she wanted more time with him, to figure it out.
She pushed out the front door. When she collided with someone, it sent her stumbling back a few steps.
“Watch yourself,” the man said.
Andrew.
He rested his hands on her shoulders and steadied her. “Lost in thought, Suzie-Q?”
“I guess so.” She met his gaze. He had stunning brown eyes. The kind of dark that was almost black and easy to drown in. She wasn’t going to be flustered, the way she was yesterday. He’d caught her off-guard, watching her dance, but this time she had her wits about her. Third impressions counted for something, didn’t they? “You’re in early.” And that was less than brilliant.
“Yet you’re already leaving.” The way he looked her over, lingering on her hips and breasts, sent goosebumps racing across her skin.
It made her wish she wore clothing more fitted than yoga pants and a T-shirt. “I have to get to work, but I wanted to get some practice time in before.”
“There has to be a better place for you to practice than a photography room.”
“The studio I study at is in the valley.” Too long a drive for a morning session. There was room at home, but her dad didn’t understand why she pursued such a childish dream. She was lucky Ian let her use this place. It was quiet and private.
“Makes sense.” Andrew leaned against the side of the building, not looking like he was in a hurry to be anywhere. “Mercy says you’re really talented. Professional quality. What are the odds you can hook me up with tickets, while I’m in town?”
Maybe he was being polite, but his interest flooded her with heat—some of it embarrassment-related. “I… uh… wouldn’t hold your breath.”
“No? I promise I can pretend to be classy when the occasion calls for it.”
“It’s not that.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I haven’t had any luck getting parts.”
“What? I saw you yesterday. You’re brilliant.”
She resisted the urge to ask him how much he knew about dancing. To the untrained eye, a lot of people looked good. That didn’t mean they were. “I don’t quite make the cut. I don’t have stage presence, whatever that means.” She regretted the confession the moment it slipped out. She braced herself for the same type of you’ll get it next time or you need to try harder that most people gave her.
“I get that.” His answer caught her off guard. “I see it with actors sometimes. Brilliant when no one’s watching, but as soon as they know the cameras are rolling, all the boom goes out of the bang.”
Her brain skipped ahead several steps and kindly pointed out he was talking about porn. Thanks for that, mind. “But isn’t everyone that way?” She shouldn’t have asked that. Not that she was embarrassed to talk about sex; she was inexperienced, but not uptight. That didn’t mean she wanted him to know how inexperienced.
“What way?”
“Good at sex when the cameras aren’t rolling?” What the heck was wrong with her this morning? This was the opposite of sounding less-than-naïve.
He raised his brow, amusement tugging up one side of his mouth. “You’ll be happier if you believe that.”
Great. Now he thought she was dim, too. “Don’t condescend to me. I know better. I don’t understand why there’s a difference between in front of the camera and behind.”
“You just told me you did. It’s the same as you and dancing. I saw you yesterday. When you don’t know anyone’s watching, you flow like water. I’d guess you freeze up on stage.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been doing things like public speaking since I was a kid.”
He shook his head. “Talking in church is different.”
“That’s not—” She snapped her jaw shut and took a few seconds to process her thoughts before speaking. “So… you’ve got someone who wants to do movies, but they can’t do it when people are watching. Do you tell them the cameras aren’t on, and then trick them? Or do they find different work?”
“There are ways around it. Learned hang-ups can be unlearned.”
“How?” No one had given her information about this before. Sympathy, reassurance, false hope—yes. But not an actual solution.
“It’s not a simple thing. I can’t hand you a self-help brochure.”