Текст книги "Unforgettable"

Автор книги: Nelle L'Amour

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Brandon

“Take that, you asshole!”

POW!

“I’m not done with you!” I grunt.

POW! POW! POW! POW!

Sweat pours from every crevice of my bare-chested body. Breathing heavily, I give the punching bag another hard punch, and then I prepare to give it a roundhouse kick. Distracted, I miss and I end up on my ass.

Cursing under my breath, I punch the gleaming hardwood floor of my fully equipped, spacious home gym. So hard, it hurts. Damn that girl! And this isn’t the first time I’ve messed up. On account of my debilitating coma, I’m physically not in as good shape as I should be and mentally, I’m even worse off. I can’t focus.

All afternoon, I’ve been working on the other scene I’m shooting tomorrow. An action-packed one in which I’ve got to battle one of The Locust’s henchmen. Hand to hand combat. I read online that I choreograph and do all my own stunts so I thought putting on some sweats and working out with a punching bag in my gym would be the most effective way to go. And to be honest, I thought a hard workout would get my mind off Zoey and release some of my pent-up energy. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that shower. I’ve been reliving it in my head like I’m the one with an eidetic memory, my throbbing cock a relentless reminder. I let myself get carried away, and I’m not sure if I was acting or not. That inexplicable attraction I have to my curvy assistant drove the emotion of every line and took me way beyond my scripted physical moves. I kissed her like I meant it, and for the first time since my accident, I had a mind-blowing orgasm. I swear she knocked me into outer space. Sent my head spinning, no pun intended. My cock gave me a standing ovation for my performance and it still hasn’t calmed down. It’s like it’s begging for an encore, but all it’s getting is a replay. Brain to cock: Listen, buddy, I’m engaged. In fact, Katrina and I have a dinner date to finish the discussion we started this morning about our wedding. I’m meeting her in an hour.

Daylight morphs into dusk. Evening still comes early in mid-January. Picking myself up from the floor, I grab a towel and my cell phone that I left close by on a barbell bench. Throwing the towel around my neck, I slog over to the floor-to-ceiling window. My muscles ache almost as much as my cock. With a groan, I gaze out the glass pane, taking in the gray-pink sky and the glimmering lights of Los Angeles that dance in its midst. In the near distance, I glimpse Zoey’s guest cottage. The lights are burning bright. I haven’t seen her for hours. Mostly, she was out and about running errands for me. I did call her a couple times to check on her whereabouts and gave her a few dumb things to do like having my freshly laundered jeans pressed just so I could hear her voice. I acted like her boss when I wanted to act like her lover. And she fell for it.

Then, she took me up on my offer and gave me a rude reminder. Texting me from the dry cleaner, she told me he couldn’t get her outfit done in time for her “hot” date. The skirt might even be ruined for good. My father was a man of honor and always told me never to break my word. So, I told her to go shopping and buy something new. Stupid me! I should have gone with her to monitor her selection to make sure it had a turtleneck and was two sizes too big.

My skin prickles with sweat. Clenching my cell phone, I text her.

I want to see what u bought.

That’s right. My money. My eyes first. I swear if her new outfit’s too sexy, I’m going to make her take it off. Even if I’m the one who has to do it.

Awaiting her reply, the rumble of a sports car in my driveway resounds in my ears.

Ping. Her response.

Too late. I’m out the gate. Off on my date. :)

The nerve of her to add a happy face! Get your ass back here is what I want to write back. The words are burning on my fingertips. Instead, I squeeze my phone like I want to strangle it. My blood is curdling with helpless rage. And it’s turning green with uncontrollable jealousy. An emotion I know I’ve never experienced even with my amnesia. Seething, I pivot toward the punching bag. I need to punch it again. This time pretending it’s that fucking boyfriend. And giving it to him until he cries.

Halfway there, my cell phone vibrates in my hand. Loosening my grip, I glance down at the caller ID screen. The face of a beautiful blonde meets my eyes. Dammit. Katrina.

Reluctantly, I answer.

“Darling, I just wanted to make sure you’re getting ready. Our reservation is at seven.”

It’s been almost two weeks since I came out of my coma. I still feel nothing toward her except growing dislike.

My reservation has nothing to do with time.

Zoey

I pick at my spicy tuna roll with my chopsticks. Popular Sushi Roku is one of my favorite restaurants and usually I binge out on their outrageous rolls. But tonight I have no appetite. Since that shower with Brandon, I’ve felt sick to my stomach. I almost canceled my date with Jeffrey. But when he told me he was feeling down because Chaz was away for a few days doing trunk shows in the Midwest, I didn’t have the heart to let him down. Jeffrey’s always been there for me just as I have for him.

“What’s wrong, Zoester?” asks my perceptive brother. “You don’t seem yourself. Are you sick or something?”

I am sick. Lovesick. I’m crushing on my boss. People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.” A man I can never have. Should I tell him? All my life, I’ve told Jeffrey everything. Even my weight when it was at its highest. After a quick mental debate, I decide not to. I make up an excuse that’s partially true.

“I had a hard day with Brandon.” Oh was it hard!

Jeffrey pours some sake into our petite stoneware cups. I take a sip and the soothing hot liquid immediately seeps into my bloodstream.

“Is that slave driver asking too much of you again?”

You could say that. I sigh. “Yeah. He’s wearing me down.” Emotionally and physically.

My boyishly handsome confidant scowls. “You can’t let him take advantage of you.”

I take another sip of my sake and practically choke on it. Oh my God. Heading straight toward me is Mr. Slave Driver himself with a dazzling Katrina on his arms. All eyes are on the gorgeous Hollywood glamour couple. My heart beats into a frenzy. Oh, please God, don’t let him see me. I may vomit if he gets within ten steps of me. Frantically, I search for a menu. Something…anything to cover my face. Wait! My napkin. I’ll use that. I yank it off my lap, but it’s too late. He’s already made eye contact with me. Without a blink, he holds me fierce in his gaze.

Jeffrey eyes me strangely. “Zoester, you’re acting all weird.”

Bratrina is getting closer. My inner panic button sounds. “Quick, Jeffrey. Kiss me!”

“Huh?”

“Just do it! And make it look like you love me.”

“I do love you.”

“No, I mean like you’re my boyfriend.”

Jeffrey’s eyes pop. “What?”

Brandon is so close I can taste him. “Hurry, just do it!”

“Zoester, you’re going gross on me.”

“I know. Just no tongues. Hurry!”

“You owe me.”

“Fine.”

Thank God, we’re sitting next to each other in a circular booth. On my next breath, Jeffrey slides in closer to me and his lips touch down on mine. They’re warm and silky, and taste sweet and a little salty from the sushi. While he’s nothing like Brandon, I always knew he must be a good kisser and he is. Banishing the thought of how inappropriate this is, I fist his spiky hair and deepen the kiss, prolonging it as much as I can. A sultry voice breaks it. Brandon’s!

“Well, Ms. Hart, fancy meeting you here.”

His manly gorgeousness is looming above me. Katrina gives me an icy look as if I’m nothing more than a slice of raw fish.

I flutter my eyelids and smile at Brandon. “Well, hello.”

He doesn’t smile back at me. His frosty eyes stay fixed on Jeffrey. “Do you mind introducing me to your companion?”

“Oh, this is my boyfriend, Jeffrey.” I give Jeffrey a kick under the table. I hope he gets the message to play along.

He does! He flashes his dazzling smile and, standing up, extends his hand. Brandon reluctantly shakes it as Jeffrey gushes.

“So nice to finally meet you. Zoey has told me so many wonderful things about you.”

Brandon’s eyes shift back to me. A brow lifts. “She has?”

I keep smiling smugly while Katrina gives me another dirty look. Disdain flickers in her catty eyes.

“Brandon, darling, let’s not waste our time with these pe…people.”

Bitch! I just know she was going to say “peons.” I’d like to shove her superiority complex up her ass.

Without losing eye contact with me, Brandon excuses himself.

“Well, enjoy your dinner.” His jaw tightens. “And, Zoey, don’t forget to print out the rest of this week’s sides when you get home.”

Newsflash. “I may not be going home tonight.” I shoot Jeffrey a seductive smile. He winks at me. My gay “boyfriend” deserves an Emmy. Matter of fact, give one to me too.

Brandon’s violet eyes darken. Before he can say a word, the bitch wrenches him away. “Come on, darling. Our table is waiting.” As she turns on her heel, she hurls a snide comment at me.

“Oh, and by the way, congratulations, Zoey. I honestly didn’t think someone like you would have any luck in the boyfriend department.”

Jeffrey’s mouth parts, but I kick him again before he can throw an insult back at her. I’m going to play it cool.

“Thanks, Katrina. Enjoy your dinner.”

She snarls at me before leading Brandon to a nearby table. Brandon is seated facing me, his eyes glued to me. Grinning, I give him a little wave. With a frown, he buries his head in a menu.

“What was that all about?” Jeffrey asks loudly.

“Shh! They may hear you.”

“Well?” His voice is urgent but softer.

My chest tightens. Brandon’s eyes are back on me. I give Jeffrey an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Just keep acting like we’re madly in love.”

“Are you trying to make Brandon Taylor jealous?”

“Snuggle with me and wrap an arm around me. Then, smack another kiss on my lips. By the way, you’re an excellent kisser.”

“Thanks, but after that, no more mouth kisses.”

“Deal.”

Jeffrey does as bid. I keep one eye on Brandon. Ooh! He’s jealous alright. His brows furrow deep enough to make a crease while Katrina, oblivious, drinks champagne. I’m loving every minute of this charade.

Jeffrey digs into a piece of the sushi as do I. My appetite’s suddenly come back with a vengeance.

“He’s staring at you,” Jeffrey says after swallowing a mouthful of the tender fish.

I make eyes at Brandon. My actions only taunt him more. His nostrils flare.

“Feed me a piece of sushi. Then I’ll do the same. Keep smiling.”

With his chopsticks, Jeffrey picks up another bite-sized sushi roll. I do the same. We exchange rolls. Nothing says love like a couple feeding each other.

Jeffrey puts his chopsticks down. “Is there something going on between the two of you? I think he likes you.”

My heart skips a beat and I swallow hard. “What do you mean?”

“He’s attracted to you. I can tell by the way he looked at you. He’s still staring at you.”

I meet Brandon’s smoldering gaze and my heart races. The memory of our shower rushes back into my head. My skin prickles. I can hardly breathe. Any hope that Jeffrey might be right comes to an abrupt halt when Brandon lets Katrina take a hand to her mouth. My stomach churns watching her suck on his fingers.

Jeffrey’s voice cuts into my misery. “Are you attracted to him?”

“Every woman in the world is attracted to Brandon Taylor,” I answer defensively and then inwardly sigh. Part with relief that I’ve come up with a good line and part with remorse that Brandon can never be mine. Even if Katrina didn’t exist, I don’t belong in his world of glamour and glitz.

My intuitive brother, who’s inherited Pops’s sixth sense for bullshit detection, rolls his long-lashed eyes. The no-nonsense straight shooter goes right for the zing. “Zoey Hart. You better level with me. You’re in love with him.”

It’s more of a statement than a question. He’s right. Is it that obvious?

“No,” I counter, my voice thin and unconvincing. “Honestly, it’s just a stupid schoolgirl crush.”

“Come on, Zoester. You can’t fool me for a second. I’m going to tell Chaz.”

“No, please don’t!” My panic only underscores the truth. I shrug in defeat. “Jeffrey, sweetie, I don’t want to talk about Brandon anymore.”

My beloved brother looks at me with warmth in his caramel eyes. “Just know, Zoester, I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, clasping his hands. “I know that.”

My voice trails off. Trying to stave off a wave of sadness, I absently play with my chopsticks. My eyes stay riveted on Brandon. I watch as he stands up and rounds his table to help Katrina out of her seat. With her heels on, they’re almost the same height. He tilts her head back with a thumb and plants a kiss on her lips.

Jealousy spreads through me like a raging wildfire. Every organ inside me is burning to a crisp. Katrina saunters away—she must be going to the restroom. I wish she was going to burn in hell.

Brandon buries his face back in his menu and completely ignores me. My heart sinks like the Titanic. Game over.

Jeffrey, who’s witnessed the kiss, reads me like a magazine. “You’re too good for him.”

I twitch a small, woeful smile. No, he’s too good for me. He’s way out of my league.

Jeffrey reads my mind. “C’mon. Let’s get the check and get out of here.”

Despondently, I ask him if I can sleep at his place.

“Sure, honey.” He squeezes my hand and right now, that’s just what I need.

Brandon

I have a restless night’s sleep. No matter how much I try, I can’t get Zoey’s boyfriend out of my mind. The prick is movie star handsome and a damn good dresser. That slick suit he was wearing was no off-the-rack rag. It easily cost a couple thousand bucks. And he was really into her. I had to mentally chain myself to my chair when he kissed her. I wanted to take him by his collar and throw him out the front door. And make it loud and clear to him to never touch my property again. That’s right, dickwad. I own Zoey Hart. She’s my paid assistant. Hands off!

And as if having to put up with their lovey-dovey shenanigans wasn’t bad enough, Katrina and I had a huge fight. Over dinner, I told her that she and her mother were spending way too much money on the wedding. Seriously… five hundred thousand dollars—and that’s just in deposits. And that doesn’t include Katrina’s hundred thousand dollar gown. I asked her—is it studded in diamonds?

Some kind of exorbitant crystals with a name I can’t remember. But that’s not what made me almost spit up my meal. The real clinker was she told me she bought a dog. Using my credit card! And not just any dog. Some designer mutt—a Maltipoo—that cost ten thousand dollars. A bargain next to the twenty-five grand Paris Hilton plunked down on two teacup Pomeranians. She’s already told the press the pup is a pre-nuptial present from me. By the time I dropped her off at her condo, it was all over the Internet¸ Instagram, and Twitter. The dog’s name is Gucci. Gucci the poochie. America’s “It Dog.” I need a fucking dog like I need another hole in the head.

And it gets worse. When I got home, I had a splitting headache. Just my luck, I was out of Advil. So I texted Zoey to run out to the all-night Rite Aid and pick me up a bottle of the painkillers. She immediately texted me back.

Can’t. At my boyfriend’s. Downtown. Plus don’t have my car.

Simmering mad, I texted her back.

Borrow his car.

And she replied.

Can’t. We’re busy right now.

Doing what?

Use ur imagination.

Ending the conversation, I almost threw my phone across my bedroom. And then I wanked off…well, tried. Zoey’s damn boyfriend got in the way of my imagination. I couldn’t stop thinking of him ravaging her. The asshole stole my fantasy!

So given my night, it’s not surprising I feel like shit this morning. It’s the butt crack of dawn. My head still hurts. My cock aches. And I’m full of piss. Stark naked, I roll out of bed and, after my bathroom routine, stagger into my walk-in closet. I yank one of my dozens of swim briefs off the built-in shelves, trying to push the events of last night out of my mind. Today’s my first day back on the set. I need to get it together. Maybe a couple of extra laps in the pool will help.

The swim is just what I need. It clears my head and releases my stress. Revitalized, I hoist myself out of the pool and as I get to my feet, a beaming Zoey appears. Barefoot, she’s wearing the same outfit she wore last night—a clingy little black mini dress—and her wild chestnut hair has that bedhead look going on. My stomach muscles tighten. I can feel it in my gut. Oh, yeah. She got laid. Big time.

“Hi,” she says brightly, heading my way with a Starbucks bag in her hand. “I had my boyfriend stop at Starbucks and picked up your coffee.” She sets it on a table while I towel dry myself.

“You’re welcome,” she chirps.

I hate when she does that. She never gives me a chance to say thank you. It’s not like those two words don’t exist in my vocabulary.

She takes my coffee out of the bag. Surprisingly, there isn’t one for her. Hmm. Maybe she already had one with Jeffrey. Though he looks like the British tea-drinker type.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I grab my iced Americano and take a sip. While my lips suck up the drink through the straw, my eyes soak in my assistant.

“Is that the dress I bought you?” The body-hugger is so short she should be arrested for indecent exposure.

“Actually, no. It’s something Jeffrey bought me.”

I cringe at the sound of his name on her lips. And at the thought that he buys her expensive, sexy presents. My eyes travel downward.

“Where are your shoes?”

She laughs. “I left them at his house.”

An unsettling thought smacks me. Is she going to move in with him? I falter trying to make more conversation.

“How was the rest of your evening?”

She sighs dreamily. “Fabulous.”

Seething inside, I fake a half-smile. “That’s good.”

No need for details. “What does your boyfriend do?”

“He’s in finance. He does really well.”

She’s seriously pissing me off. I take another sip of the coffee.

“Where does he work?”

“He’s a consultant. Self-employed.”

“What kind of car does he drive?”

“A Mercedes 560 SL convertible. Oh, and he also has a Range Rover.”

So, he’s very good looking and rich. And he dresses really well. Kill me now. Me, the sexiest man in the world, feels threatened by some no one.

“How long have you been together?”

“We met just before your accident.”

I do the math in my head. They’ve been together for only a few weeks. And she’s already sleeping with him.

She chimes into my thoughts like a mind reader. “It was love at first sight. You know what that’s like.” A hand flies to her mouth. “Whoops! I forgot you don’t remember meeting Katrina.”

I detect sarcasm in her voice. Anger rising, I press my lips tight together.

“What’s his last name?” I’m going to google the bastard. Find out everything there is to know about him.

“None of your damn business.”

Well, scrap that plan.

Without warning, she changes the subject. “Are you excited about your first day back on the set?”

Her question takes my mind off Jeffrey. “Yes. Very.”

“Are you cool with your lines?”

Once again, that memory of showering with her flashes into my head. I have the burning urge to shower with her again. But this time, clothes off. I want to caress her velvet flesh and savor all her sexy curves. I want to feel her skin against mine. All of it. Everywhere. My cock’s telling me to rip off her dress. Brain to Brandon: Get a grip! I tell her I’m good.

She quirks a smile. “Great. You’d better get going. Your call time is at eight. You don’t want to be late on your first day back.”

“Right.” My gaze stays fixed on her as she sashays toward the guesthouse. It’s like my eyes have X-ray vision. I can see that big, adorable heart-shaped ass right through the fabric of her skimpy frock. My cock twitches. It’s shouting out to me again. I silently give it a piece of my mind. Hey, buddy, lay off; taking off her clothes is someone else’s good fortune. Besides, I’m committed to Katrina. But I can’t silence my cock. My insatiable need for her pulses through my body. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Zoey, get undressed,” I shout out, my cock egging me on.

She stops dead in her tracks and spins around.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes burn into mine.

“You heard me. Get undressed…and put on something comfortable. You’re coming to the set with me.”

“But—”

“There are no buts when you work for me. I believe that’s in your contract.”

She screws up her face. Damn, she’s so cute.

“Asshole! I should have poisoned your coffee!”

Things are back to normal. And I’m back in control. There’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight. I’m going to tie up my feisty assistant if I have to.

My first day back on the set couldn’t start off better. The cast and crew are overjoyed to see me. In fact, before we start shooting, there’s a little welcome back party. Nothing big or fancy—just coffee and Krispy Kreme donuts for everyone. Boxes of them. Everyone’s in a great mood, including me.

“Have a donut,” I tell Zoey. “They’re killer good.”

Dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a Kurt Kussler sweatshirt, my adorable assistant, who’s been taking everything in, eyes me as I devour a chocolate one.

“I’m trying not to eat fattening things.”

“C’mon, you’re missing out.” I help myself to another—this time, glazed. Her big brown eyes are drooling. I’m mildly amused. “Zoey, it’s an order. Have one.”

“All right. Just one.” She chooses a cream-filled one. I watch as her full lips descend on it. She takes a whopping bite and the cream spurts out. It’s like the sugarcoated donut has had an epic orgasm. She moans and swallows. It’s so damn erotic. My cock flexes while she licks her upper lip.

“Hey, you missed a spot.” I flick my index finger along her lip and then lick off the little bit of cream on my fingertip. The sweetness mixes with berry flavor of her lip-gloss. I savor the taste of her. And want a second helping.

“Thanks,” she says softly and then polishes off the donut. “That was yummy.”

You’re yummy. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the producer.”

To my surprise, this is Zoey’s first time ever on the set. She’s like a little kid in a candy store—wanting to experience everything. Within minutes, she meets not only Executive Producer Doug DeMille but also my co-stars, Jewel Starr, who plays my late wife Alisha, and Kellie Fox, who plays my infatuated, devoted assistant, Mel. I haven’t told her the direction the show’s going—the way the season’s going to end with Kurt falling hard for Mel. Under strict orders from network production chief, Blake Burns, everyone who attended the focus groups agreed to keep it under wraps, even from the cast and crew, so the twist I came up with wouldn’t get leaked. In this world of social media, secrets are hard to keep.

Wide-eyed Zoey cannot contain her enthusiasm. She’s especially in awe of Jewel. “Wow! You’re even prettier in person!”

Clad in a bathrobe, her blond hair in curlers, Jewel’s blue eyes twinkle with laughter. “Not for long. I’m going to look like a drowned rat after shooting my scene with Brandon.”

“Oh my God. That shower scene was—I mean, is—so amazing. I can’t wait to see it for real.”

Before the gorgeous, slightly perplexed actress can respond, she’s whisked off to hair and makeup. The rest of the crew is scuttling about, prepping for the shoot. I’m more than glad I’ve brought Zoey along. Thanks to her insane memory, she’s able to put names and positions to almost everyone. I told her during our drive here that I wasn’t going to tell anyone about my amnesia. She thought that was a good idea and assured me she could help me identify most of the crew. She studied the file she put together and went over it again with me in the car. Thank goodness, I was able to retain the names of several key crew members, including the Director, the first AD, a couple of camera guys, hair and makeup, and some helpful PAs so I wouldn’t look like a total idiot.

Just after I finish my second donut, a young freckled-face woman, wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard, jogs up to me. She must be one of the PAs. Shit. I don’t remember her name. I shoot Zoey a desperate look. She mouths the PA’s name: Janine. She’s the no-nonsense type.

“Brandon, let’s get you into hair and makeup.”

“Zo, just hang out for a while,” I say, letting the PA lead the way.

Another female voice stops me in my tracks.

“Darling!”

I pivot. My body goes rigid. Katrina! Every muscle clenches. I’m still mad as hell at her. And in fact, I’m even madder. She’s brought the fucking mutt to the set.

Holding the yapping ball of fur in her arms, she prances up to me. All eyes are on the statuesque beauty. She looks stunning, dressed in a tight hot pink sweater dress with matching thigh-high suede boots, her platinum hair cascading over her shoulders in perfect, soft waves. The little white dog is wearing a matching outfit—a same shade pink sweater along with a bow in his hair and a pink rhinestone-studded collar. An unsettling thought crosses my mind—shit, maybe they’re diamonds. I wouldn’t put that past my extravagant fiancée or to put the astronomical charge on my credit card.

“What are you doing here?” I snap, avoiding eye contact with the beast.

Katrina holds Zoey in her rabid gaze. “What’s she doing here?”

Smiling, Zoey holds her own. “Brandon invited me.”

Another PA lopes up to us with a last call for donuts. He’s holding a box with the remaining few. Zoey surveys them.

“Katrina, you should help yourself to one before they run out.”

“Puh-lease. Donuts are for peasants.” She directs her snide comment at Zoey and then smacks her mouth on mine. Coated in a bright pink lipstick, her billowy lips taste nothing like Zoey’s. I pull away. Zoey stares at her icily.

Clutching the ravenous looking dog in the crook of one arm, Katrina runs a long manicured finger around my lips. “I’m sorry, darling. I got lipstick on you.”

I grit my teeth and don’t move as she continues.

“Since I wasn’t shooting today, I thought I should come by and wish you the best of luck on your first day back on the set. Plus, I really wanted you to meet Gucci. I just know you’re going to fall in love with him.”

Him? By now, all the crew members have taken notice of Katrina and her new pretty in pink cross-dresser dog. Or should I say, our new dog? Many have gathered around to congratulate her on our engagement (and glimpse the rock I gave her) and to admire the fluffy designer mutt. Everyone’s a sucker for a cute dog. Being the center of attention, America’s It Girl is in her glory—with “It Dog.”

“Darling, why don’t you pet him?” she purrs.

I want to bark at my fiancée. Tell her to get the hell out of the studio and take the damn dog with her. But with all these people around us, it sure won’t look good to have a fight. Or for it to get out that I don’t like dogs. That’s just not the kind of publicity I need right now. Besides, I love dogs. I had a Chocolate Lab growing up. I just don’t like little yappy ones.

Hesitantly, I lower my hand to the dog’s head, but as I’m about to touch down, the mongrel growls and bares his tiny razor-sharp teeth. With a vicious snap, he almost takes off my fingers. I yank them away just in time.

“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, happy to have my digits intact.

“Brandon, are you okay?” asks Zoey.

Katrina shoots Zoey another predatory look and then shifts her attention to me.

“Darling, he just has to get to know you better.” She makes goo-goo eyes at the monster. “You’re a very sweet little dog, right baby boy?” She kisses the still growling beast on his head, leaving an outline of her pink lips on his white fur.

The PA named Janine impatiently butts in. “Brandon, we’ve got to go. It’s getting late.”

“Katrina, I have to get ready,” I say, happy to have an excuse to get away from her. The hostile dog growls at me again. I’ve had it. This time I growl back. It whimpers. Ha! I’ll show the furry little beast who’s the alpha male around this joint.

Katrina fires me a dirty look and comforts the shaking pup. “Poor baby, don’t let him scare you.”

Zoey cups her mouth to stifle her laughter. We exchange an eye roll. Score one for me.

Five minutes later, I’m back on the set. I’m wearing a bathrobe, monogrammed with my name, but beneath it I’m stark naked except for a flesh-colored cock sock. Jewel, in a similar bathrobe, joins me. Her hair coiffed, she looks ready to get started.

I spot Zoey. I’ve had a PA set her up in my folding chair by the director’s camera. I’ve told her the best way to watch the filming is on his monitor. Numerous cameras will be in play to capture different angles, including an overhead one on a crane and a handheld one for close-ups, but the director’s monitor captures the first cameraman’s master shot. In editing, they’ll splice together the various angles to make the scene dynamic and then later in post add sound effects and music.

Niall Davies, the episode’s wiry director, strides up to us. In addition to being the show’s Emmy-winning primary director, he’s married to Jewel, my co-star. They met on the set.

“Ready to rehearse the scene, my man?” he asks in his charming British accent.

“I don’t need to rehearse it. I’ve got it nailed.” I shoot Zoey a look. Our eyes connect. Smiling, she gives me a good luck thumbs up. Smiling back, I suddenly realize Katrina’s nowhere in sight. Maybe she took the damn dog for a walk. Just as well. The last thing I need is for the mutt to start yapping in the middle of my scene.

Niall turns to his wife. “Are you all right with that, gorgeous?”

Jewel smiles. “Let’s go for it, baby.”

Stripping off our bathrobes, we step into the already steamed up shower. Water sprays from the many overhead jets. In seconds, we’re soaked and in position.

“Quiet on the set,” shouts out the first AD.

The next three words are music to my ears. It’s as if I’ve heard them my entire life. Is my memory coming back?

“Lights. Camera. Action!”