Текст книги "Take Two"

Автор книги: Laurelin Paige

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Two

Micah Preston couldn’t decide if he was irritated or glad to be left waiting in Stu Steeling’s front office for so long. On the one hand, he’d already been sitting there for more than half an hour. If this was any indication of the sort of attention he’d receive if Stu signed him as a client, he should bail now. Except Stu Steeling was the best publicity and image manager in Hollywood. Getting an appointment with him was nearly impossible, let alone getting a contract. And Stu had called Micah’s agent for this meeting, which was why Micah didn’t just up and walk out.

On the other hand, the wait gave him a chance to compose and focus before his interview.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t focus—not one bit. His mind kept returning to the night before and the leggy brunette who had gasped and moaned so beautifully at his touch. Maddie. He could still taste her on his tongue.

He hadn’t wanted to attend the wrap party for his indie film. Not that he was averse to a good time, but his meeting with Stu was bright and early, and his agent had recommended that Micah keep sober and well-rested.

“You’ll never get a chance like this with Steeling again,” Priscilla, his agent, had said. “If he signs you, you will go from unknown indie films to big studio features. I swear it. He can make or break your acting career.”

So Micah had done a quick walk around the wrap party, making sure he said goodbye to the people he wasn’t sure he’d see again. Then, not wanting to be totally uncool and leave before midnight, he grabbed a beer and found a quiet spot to relax.

That was when he’d spotted her, making her way through the crowd with such purpose and direction it seemed as if she were coming to join him. She’d stopped to survey the spectacle at the pool and he’d had a perfect view of her long legs and firm behind. An image of her bent naked in front of him had flashed through his mind and his cock was twitching before she even turned around. When he did see her face—her perfectly plump lips, her deep chocolate eyes—he knew he had to touch her, taste her, feel her against him. And that he did.

He closed his lids as he remembered.

It was a good thing their encounter was interrupted. He hadn’t enjoyed going home blue-balled, but he’d been minutes away from taking her fast and hard in an empty bathroom of his producer’s house, and she deserved something more than a hot round of wham bam thank you ma’am. Micah wanted to give her that something more and he planned to take her out on a real date and end up in a bedroom, nice and proper.

Not for the first time that morning, he pulled out his phone and stared at her contact information, trying to decide if he’d seem too eager if he sent her a text. Ah hell, he didn’t care if he sounded eager—he was eager—to know her, to touch her again.

He began composing a text when the receptionist called his name.

“Mr. Steeling will see you now.”

Micah saved the draft and pocketed his phone. He’d have to save his fantasies for later—now it was time to focus on the biggest moment of his career.

A few minutes later, Micah found himself seated across from Stu Steeling, who perched behind an immaculate mahogany desk.

“I’m going to get right to the point,” Stu said after they greeted each other. “I’m not much for small talk—it’s a waste of time, and in this business, time is money. I’ve seen your work. You’re talented, there’s no question about that. And you’re good-looking. Priscilla tells me you’ve been working with her for”—he paused to study a small notepad he’d pulled from his pocket—“seven years. Most people would say you should have hit it big by now if you were ever going to, but I’m not most people. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

Stu’s forehead creased. “Twenty-four is older than I like to start with clients, but it’s not a deal breaker. It just means that if you agree to work with me, you’ll have to really commit to the guidelines I set out for you, and I mean commit—one hundred percent, no fucking around. Building an image in Hollywood is not impossible, but it takes dedication and hard work. It’s grueling and not recommended for the faint of heart. What do you say?”

“I’m not opposed to hard work.” Micah had just finished three indie films in a period of just as many months, and was not any worse for the wear. He was tempted to agree to whatever Stu had in mind, no questions asked, but decided to play it cool and aloof. “Though I’d like to know exactly what you propose before I can commit to anything.”

“Excellent—a young man interested in the details before signing on. You don’t know how many people fail that part of this interview.”

Micah hid any reaction, grateful he didn’t jump on Stu’s offer. He sat back in his chair and waited for Stu to proceed.

“I’ll expect you to work on project after project. There are no breaks when you’re climbing the ladder. I will push you to audition, audition, audition. You’ll be so tired you’ll want to kill me. But that should all go without saying.”

“It does.”

“Now here’s the tough stuff. First and foremost, no drugs, no drunk driving, no excessive Brindsay LoSpears-type partying. I don’t care if you smoke a little weed now and then, but if you’re ever caught with anything harder than that—and you’re always caught—I’ll drop you immediately. Clear?”

Easy peasy. “I’m clean. I’m not even a big drinker.”

“Perfect. Next, you need to get to a voice teacher. You got the acting chops, but your speech isn’t as clear as it could be. You have a bit of a mid-western dialect at times.”

Micah hadn’t heard that one in a while, but he knew where it came from. “I grew up in Kansas. I moved here at thirteen when my parents got divorced.”

“Yeah, that’s in your speech. It’s actually somewhat endearing, but it doesn’t work for every character and from what I’ve seen, you don’t ever vary it.”

“I’ll get a voice teacher. I’m glad to learn more acting tools.”

“Good. I’ve got someone I work with who’s excellent. She’ll come to you so you can train while you’re working.” Stu made a note on his pad. “We need to get you a personal trainer—the kind who’s going to whip your ass and make you puke after every session. I know you’re in pretty good shape now, but we need to see a six-pack when you take off your shirt and from the footage I got from Dirk Davenport, you’ve only got a four-pack.”

Micah knew that was coming. He hadn’t worked as hard at the gym as he could have, but no one ever complained about his naturally well-built physique before. He also hadn’t made it into a feature film yet. Maybe his body could use some work.

“Speaking of Davenport,” Stu said without waiting for Micah to agree to a trainer, “he’s a great director and I admire him. He knows how to cast pretty boys who can also act. But there’s a reason he’s never made it past his indie film status. Gay films are just not mainstream. You’re not gay, are you?”

“No,” Micah said, thinking about Maddie again. “Definitely not.”

“Perfect. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay. I’m all for equal rights and all that bullshit, but we’ve got to be honest—most of the actors who are hot right now are straight. Or, at least, they waited until they were famous before they came out of the closet. I hope as much as anyone that that changes soon, but for now, that’s the formula for success. Don’t get me wrong, this gay indie is going to look great on your resume. Especially since you’re straight—it shows you can act. But now we need to focus on your heterosexuality. Do you have a girlfriend, fiancée, wife?”

Micah wasn’t sure how Stu wanted him to answer. He'd played gay on film—not anything porn-like, just some kissing. It was no big deal—he was acting. Maybe Stu wanted him to have a girlfriend to combat that image. But he didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment. Not yet, anyway. He went for the truthful answer. “Nope, I’m completely single.”

“Terrific! It’s much easier to sell a single young actor than one that’s attached. The women all want to believe they have a shot with you and the girlfriend thing just gets in the way. I’m not suggesting you cut out sex—you can have as many fuck flings as you like. Hell, that usually works in your favor. Every gossip rag is dying to tie you to someone. It’s great publicity.

“Not that we can’t work things out if you do hook up with someone long term. But, I’m telling you man-to-man, it’s not easy to manage love and a career. Women mess with your time and emotions. They pout every time you have to spend weeks away on a shoot or, heaven forbid, have to do an on-screen kiss. And you can never tell if they’re into you or your money. Keep the strings unattached and you’re better off. Just a suggestion from a guy who’s been around.”

Micah opened his mouth to comment, but didn’t know what to say. Show biz and relationships…boy, did he know something about that. Stu’s advice wasn’t half bad.

“Anyway, kid, if you’re serious, I’ll sign you today. Keep your nose clean, work on your trade, don’t get distracted, and I promise that I’ll make you a star. I’m sure you know I’ve got an excellent track record and no one’s ever been—”

He was interrupted by his phone ringing. He pushed the speaker button and the receptionist’s voice filled the room. “Brad Licht is on the phone. He said to interrupt.”

“Great, send the call back.” Stu pressed the speaker button again and the receptionist was gone. “Micah, I have to take this. It’ll be just a minute.”

Stu picked up the phone’s handset and pushed the flashing button on his console before Micah could agree. “Hey, Brad. What’s up?”

Micah was curious about Stu’s conversation. Brad Licht was a famous actor and client of Stu’s. Witnessing Stu’s interaction with him would be a great indicator of what kind of relationships he had with his clients.

But instead, Micah’s mind wandered to Stu’s advice on women. It wasn’t a new thought—Micah had toyed with the idea of remaining single before. He’d witnessed his parents’ marriage go up in flames when his mother decided to run off to California, hoping to get a break into the biz herself. She didn’t succeed, and she always blamed her ex of holding her back when she was younger.

And though she never said it out loud, Micah knew that being a mother had held her back as well. She’d been a good actress. She could have made a name for herself if she’d had fewer responsibilities and obligations. Eventually she gave up and threw her energy into Micah and his career instead.

Micah’s dad never got over the split. He pined for his wife until his death of a heart attack at forty-eight. And as much as it pained Micah, he knew his father never approved of his son’s decision to be an actor because of all the grief it had caused their family.

Yeah, Stu made a good argument. No strings, no burdens—it was definitely the way to go. Even though he sometimes yearned for a more substantial relationship, Micah could be happy as a playboy.

Of course, there was Maddie. He’d just met her and, hell, he knew hardly anything about her, but his attraction to her ran deep. He was certain that if he saw her again he’d want to see her again and again and again. She couldn’t be just a fuck fling, as Stu had put it, though fantasies of fucking her kept dancing through his mind. It would be best if he cut things off before they went any further. Leave it as the hot memory it was.

He pulled his cell out of his pocket, and reread the draft of the text he had composed to Maddie. I’m remembering your moans. When can I make you mo—

Now, he deleted the unfinished message. Then he went to his contacts and scrolled to the info she’d entered the night before. Maddie from the party followed by her phone number. He paused before he moved his finger over the delete button and pressed it.

Are You Sure You Want To Delete This Contact?

He hesitated. Maybe he was overreacting. Just because his parents hadn’t worked out…

“Christ, Brad, divorced?” Stu said into the phone. Until now, Stu hadn’t said much and his sudden outburst drew Micah’s attention. “I knew that chick was just after your money.”

Stu paused. “Look, I’m real sorry to hear that. I’ll get Pam to spin it to the press however you want me to. It’s funny, I was just saying to another client that relationships in Hollywood are tough.”

Stu gave a knowing wink and Micah’s mind was made up. He looked back at his phone. Are You Sure You Want To Delete This Contact?

Micah pushed Yes. And Maddie from the party was erased from his phone. Erased from his life.

Chapter Three

Seven Years Later

Maddie stepped off the escalator at Denver International Airport and followed the crowd in front of her to baggage claim. She’d never been to this airport, but she easily found carousel four, where the monitors showed her flight’s luggage would arrive soon. While she waited, she pulled her phone from her purse and turned off the airplane mode. Immediately it buzzed with a text.

Tell me when u get in. Meet ur driver by the West Terminal doors.

It was from Bree. Maddie responded. Just arrived. She pushed send and wondered for the hundredth time that morning, how did she get talked into this again? She mentally replayed Bree’s frantic call from the day before.

“We need you, Maddie,” Bree had said. “The assistant camera operator broke his tailbone and needs surgery so we need another assistant pronto for location. We’re already six weeks into the shoot. I know you swore off working with Beaumont, and I’d never ask you, but Adam only wants you. You can totally name your price and you’ll get it.”

Even though more than six years had passed, Maddie still felt the sting of the Joss Beaumont disaster that had effectively ended all her hopes of being a Hollywood director. Thank goodness she had mad skills in other areas of film, though he never treated her with respect again. On set, he acted like she was his own private valet and coffee runner and then blamed her for not being around when he needed her. He might be one of the country’s top directors, but, as far as she was concerned, he was an ass.

But Maddie was very fond of Adam LaForgeon, one of Beaumont’s occasional camera operators. Old enough to be her father, Adam had taken her under his wing on the first film she’d done as an intern seven years before. He’d stood by her through what Maddie liked to now refer to as the Beaumont Fiasco. Soon she was working as Adam’s main assistant, joining him on all his projects. She would have been on this shoot from the beginning if Beaumont hadn’t been directing.

Adam respected Maddie’s hatred of the pompous director and would have never requested her unless he was desperate. He’d stuck by her when she was desperate. How could she turn him down?

And she owed Bree too. Maddie was the main reason Bree worked as Beaumont’s personal assistant. Bree shared Maddie’s detest of the asshole, but belonged to the camp of keep your enemies closer. She claimed that working for “the fucker” might help Maddie. Besides, since sleeping her way to the top hadn’t worked as well as Bree’d planned—a series of nude photos and an accidental adult film ended that—working for a big-time director seemed a great way to get into the Hollywood scene from another angle. Unfortunately, several years later she only had P.A. on her legit resume and Maddie remained a camera assistant.

So here Maddie was, less than twenty-four hours after Bree’s phone call, at the Denver airport waiting to claim her hastily packed suitcase with absolutely no information about the movie she’d be working on except that it was midway through production.

The carousel whirred into motion and Maddie’s burgundy suitcase with the rainbow ribbon on the zipper pull was the first bag to sail down the ramp. She grabbed it, pulled up the handle and wheeled it behind her while she looked for her transportation. She spotted her driver near the doors to parking, holding a flimsy white piece of paper with the name Madalyn Bauers scrawled across it. He had short, clean-cut blond hair, a baby-smooth face and was built like a wrestler. Young. Definitely an intern or production assistant.

“Hey,” Maddie said as she approached him. Her phone buzzed in her hand—probably with a response from Bree—but she ignored it. “You’re looking for me. I’m Madalyn Bauers. Well, Maddie.”

“Then you are correct; I am looking for you,” the young man said. He held out his hand in greeting. “I’m Sam, and I’m your ride.”

“Awesome.” Maddie didn’t miss the innuendo. “I can’t believe you went to this much trouble. I could have taken a cab.”

“Honestly, I’m here to pick up one of the actors. He landed about fifteen minutes before you. You just got lucky with your timing.” Sam gave a sly smile. “Or I got lucky.”

Oh cute, he was flirting. She responded with a hesitant smile.

“I just gotta let the crew know I got you and then I’ll grab your bag.”

While Sam made his phone call, Maddie read Bree’s text. And all is good?

So far, Maddie replied. Pretending to still look at her phone, she covertly checked out her driver. Hmm, not bad. Good-looking, but too young. And blonds weren’t usually a hot button for her. But still, there was possibility.

“Okay, all set. I can take your bag for you.” Sam pocketed his phone and reached for Maddie’s suitcase.

“Oh, thanks. Where’s the actor?”

“He’s around here. Went to get a coffee or a newspaper or something. He should be easy to spot.” Sam craned his neck, looking around the terminal. “Yeah, there he is. Looks like he got noticed.” He motioned with his head toward a group of people a dozen or so yards away. “You know talent, they always have an entourage.”

Maddie followed Sam’s gesture. She could only see the actor’s backside—he wore tight jeans and a casual blue sports jacket. Damn, the jacket obscured any ass-checking, but she’d bet money his booty was capital-F fine. He was signing autographs for four women surrounding him. Nearby she saw a muscleman, arms crossed, wearing sunglasses, jeans, and a T-shirt. He appeared aloof, but Maddie noticed he watched the crowd. So this guy warranted a bodyguard. “Who is it anyway?” she asked.

Before Sam could answer, the actor and his bodyguard turned and started toward them. Maddie’s heart began to race and her stomach dropped. She knew that wavy dark brown hair, those deep-set blue eyes, and those perfectly formed lips.

“Micah Preston,” Sam and Maddie said in unison.

Wow. She was stunned.

It had been forever since she’d thought of Micah Preston as anything more than a Hollywood icon. Yes, he’d transfixed her in their brief encounter years ago and she’d dared to hope for a while that she would see him again—that he would call. When he didn’t, she was disappointed, but what could she do besides move on? She hadn’t even known his full name.

Except, nearly a year after their encounter, she’d come face-to-face with him on the cover of her Entertainment Weekly. Micah Preston, Break-Out Sensation, it had read. Then he was everywhere, on every magazine cover, in every movie. Hot and handsome as he was the night they met, his face on the screen sending Maddie’s heart into palpitations.

But seeing Micah everywhere in such a different context than the one she knew him in made it easy to distance herself. And the more she learned about him, the less she cared for him. Especially disgusting was the fact that Micah Preston was a playboy. In every picture that the paparazzi took, he had a different stunningly gorgeous broad on his arm. Though Maddie had been easily seduced by him, she’d never done anything like that before or since. Apparently it was Micah’s M.O. Typical actor. And she, like most technical crew, had learned early in her career to stay clear of the talent. Their egos generally left little room for anyone else.

Still, as Micah and his bodyguard approached her, a strange nervousness overtook her. She usually didn’t care much about making an impression, but she wished she had time to look in a mirror. She was in stupid sweats, a ratty tank top, and no bra—her comfy traveling clothes, for heaven’s sake. And now she was going to be face-to-face with a man who’d made her orgasm with his fingers. Would he be embarrassed that he’d hooked up with the likes of her? And what would she say to him? How on earth would she manage to not sound like a bumbling idiot?

Lord, strike me down now.

“Hey, man,” Sam said. “Looks like we’re ready to go. This is—”

“Madalyn Bauers,” Micah finished, his eyes on her. At least, she thought his eyes were on her. She couldn’t quite tell through the sunglasses he had slid onto his face after leaving his fans.

Maddie’s heart flip-flopped at his attention and the way he said her name. It rolled off his tongue like music. “Um, hi.”

“You two already know each other?” Sam asked.

Micah shook his head and pointed to the sign Sam was still holding. “I just assumed.”

Maddie swallowed. He didn’t remember her. Most goddamn adventurous night of her life and he didn’t even remember her. Sure he’d had a million girls since her, but she thought he’d at least think there was something familiar about her.

Well, that sucks.

Refusing to show her disappointment, she held up her chin and thrust out her hand. “Actually, it’s Maddie. Pleasure to finally work with you, Mr. Preston.”

“Mr. Preston? It’s Micah.” He grasped her hand firmly. “And that guy is Fu—um, Chris, my bodyguard.”

Maddie tried to keep the shock of Micah’s touch unregistered on her face. And did he hold her hand a little too long or was that her imagination? Whichever, it felt nice.

“Micah it is,” she said. He let go of her hand and a fleeting thought of never washing it again crossed her mind.

What am I, a schoolgirl? She was totally being ridiculous. Yes, seeing Micah again made her dizzy and warm in all the right places, but he was nothing more than a random boy who’d felt her up years ago at a wild party and never called afterward. Nothing to be excited about now.

She turned to Sam, avoiding Micah’s face as she pivoted. “Are we ready to go? I’d love to settle in and get to the set. I’m sure Adam could use me as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing. Let’s motor. I’m not parked too far.”

On the walk to short-term parking, Maddie stayed with Sam so she wouldn’t have to watch Micah’s backside tease her. Behind her, she heard him on his phone, but she couldn’t help putting a little sway into her own stride in case he might be eyeing her.

“Ha-ha, got some fries with that shake?” Chris asked, strolling up behind her.

Crap. She blushed.

He leaned in so only she could hear him. “Don’t worry about it. Common occurrence with Micah. I don’t even think some chicks notice they do it.”

She didn’t know how to respond. “Thanks for, uh, pointing my shimmy out, Chris.”

“No prob. And everyone calls me Fudge.”

“Fudge. Awesome.”

When they reached the vehicle, Maddie caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window as Sam loaded the bags into the trunk of the blue SUV. Her long brown hair was piled in a mess on top of her head. Her sunglasses, thankfully, hid the circles under her eyes and the red spot on the side of her nose that she knew from experience was the beginning of a zit. She looked, well, jet-lagged. She removed the scrunchee from her hair and finger-combed through her tresses before pulling it into a ponytail—a minor improvement. Maybe it was best that Micah didn’t remember her.

“Here, I got that for you.” Sam pulled open the back door for her.

“Thanks.” Chris, er, Fudge, had already taken the front passenger seat. That left Maddie in back with Micah. Shit. She should have moved faster. Sighing, she climbed in the backseat and let Sam shut her door.

As soon as she was seated, Maddie pulled out her phone. Bree was so going to get it. She knew all about Maddie’s encounter with Micah seven years before, even though Maddie hadn’t told her initially. Leave it to Bree’s crazy eye for all-things-hot-guy-related to spot Micah in a movie trailer sometime later.

“Didn’t you totally get it on with him at our graduation party?” she’d said.

So much for Bree being too drunk to realize what was going on.

Maddie had spilled the details—all the details—how he made her body sing, how she hadn’t known his full name, how he hadn’t called afterward. Bree knew full well that Maddie would have wanted to know he’d be on this shoot.

Maddie’s text said it all. Micah freakin Preston???!!!??? You are so dead…

She dropped her phone onto her lap and leaned against the passenger door, leaving as much space as possible between her and the spot where Micah would sit. She watched him out her peripheral vision as he slid into the backseat next to her, his thigh muscles bulging through his tight pants. God, he was positively scrumptious. No wonder half the women in America had a crush on him.

“Okay, I’m getting in the car now so I’ve gotta go, Mom,” Micah said, wrapping up his phone call. “Uh-huh. Bye.”

Damn. Now she might actually have to talk to him. At least she no longer had to wonder who was on the other side of his phone call. Not because she was envious, just curious.

Pathetic, Maddie. Real pathetic.

Micah pocketed his phone and stretched out, his limbs landing only a few inches from her own body. She felt the warmth exuding off him and somehow the backseat felt ten times more cramped than it had a minute before. Hopefully it would be a short trip to the hotel. “How long is the drive?”

“About an hour,” Sam replied, starting the car.

Maddie let out a slow breath. A whole hour. Maybe she could pretend to sleep. She leaned her head against the window. A sudden buzzing in her lap made her jump.

She felt Micah’s eyes on her as she read her text. If I told you, it wouldn’t have been as fun right now.

It’s not at all fun right now!

Bree’s next text came almost instantly. Why????

He doesn’t remember me. She paused, looking at the words before she pushed send. Did he really forget her? Did he have no inkling of familiarity?

She risked a full glance at him and found he was still staring at her. At her look, he perched his sunglasses on top of his head. “So, who are you?”

Yeah, he really didn’t remember her. Why should he? She was a nobody. She wondered if she would have remembered him if he hadn’t become Mr. Superstar.

Yes, she would. He was totally unforgettable. And he knew how cool he was. He’d gotten cocky. A lot of the famous actors did. Too bad.

She hit send on her phone as she answered him. “Uh…Maddie.”

“Right. Maddie-not-Madalyn-Bauers. Got that. I meant what are you doing on the show? I don’t remember seeing you on the set in L.A.” He scanned her bedraggled body. “And, believe me, I would have noticed.”

“Oh.” Maddie blushed. Cocky, but still had the charm. Self-conscious, she tugged on her tank top. “No, I wasn’t in L.A. I’m taking over as first camera assistant.”

“Cool. You’re much better-looking than Carson. What happened to him anyway?”

Sam answered for her. “Carson got here a day before shoot started and broke his tailbone trying to do some fancy dirt biking.”

“Ha, that totally sounds like him,” Fudge said. “That crazy motherfucker.”

Sam made eye contact with Maddie in his rearview mirror. “Maddie’s supposed to be an amazing camera assistant. Adam requested her. Had nothing but good things to say.”

She felt warm from the praise. “I’m right here, you know. Don’t need to talk about me in third person.” She reluctantly slid her own sunglasses off and faced Micah. “I’m Adam’s usual assistant. He has to say nice things about me.”

She studied him. In the years since she’d last seen him he’d changed his look often, depending on his film roles. Now he sported the scruffy Micah look, sexy stubble covered his face and his hair was longer and unkempt in a totally hot way. Her fingers curled into the upholstery as she imagined how they’d feel running through his tresses.

Micah furrowed his brow. “How come you weren’t here from the beginning?”

“I had some personal issues with…someone…working on the show.” In this business, you couldn’t bad mouth anyone without serious repercussions.

He leaned toward her. “Did those issues resolve somehow?”

Her body turned on from his close proximity. Stupid female hormones. Beaumont seemed much less of a problem now that she had Micah to cope with. She simultaneously wanted to scoot nearer and shrink into the car’s interior. She did neither. “I’m learning to deal.”

He looked at her carefully, then reached over and casually pushed aside a stray hair from her face, his finger brushing her cheek. “Hmm, let me know how that goes.”

Maddie shivered under his touch. “Thanks,” she managed to whisper. Was he hitting on her? Maybe he hit on all girls the minute he met them. He did have a reputation. Or maybe she was just wishing he was hitting on her.

No, she wasn’t wishing he was hitting on her. That would be trouble. He was just so attractive it was hard to remember why she wasn’t interested in him.

She needed a distraction. “What exactly is this movie about, anyway? I didn’t get a chance to read a script.”

“It’s great,” Sam said. “You’ll love it. It’s a heist movie—”

“It’s a romance,” Micah interrupted, his eyes never leaving Maddie. “There’s kissing.”

“And a romance,” Sam conceded. “A bunch of friends take on a small mountain gambling town then have to hide in the great outdoors.”

Fudge looked up from whatever he was doing on his iPhone. “It’s like The Town meets the West.”

Micah shook his head. “It is not.”

“Whatever, dude.” Fudge pulled a set of earphones out of his jeans pockets and stuck them into his phone. “I’m gonna nap. Is that cool?”

“I’m sure we’ll be safe on the ride from DIA to Golden.” Micah bent his leg and Maddie realized if she relaxed just a little, their knees would bump. “Besides, the windows are tinted. No one can see in.”

She couldn’t help herself; she relaxed, silently gasping at the light contact.

Then, did he respond by moving his leg against hers? No, he’d only bumped her as he bent over to fiddle with his bag. The brush sent tingles through her lower belly. She had to close her eyes to regain focus.

Unaware of the desire running rampant in the backseat, Sam continued with his lowdown of the film. “Most of the cast already arrived. Heather Wainwright. And Pierce Bartlett and Bray Morgan. And Josh Gibbs plays the cop.”