Laurelin Paige - Take Two

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.”

Maddie couldn’t pass up the opportunity to turn Micah’s earlier question back on him. “So who are you?”

He smiled. “Touché. I’m the love interest, of course.” He tapped his finger on her knee as he said “of course”. Even through her sweatpants, Maddie felt the electricity of his touch.

“Of course.” Maddie’s traitor face returned the smile. The glimmer in his eye made her warm between her thighs. She blinked and looked away, hoping her flush didn’t give away her indecent thoughts.

What the crap was she doing? Even if he wasn’t flirting, she was and she shouldn’t be. She couldn’t get sucked into Micah again, even though the idea of sucking and Micah fit deliciously together in her mind.

She tried to stay on topic. “Good cast,” she said, though she couldn’t even recall who Sam had mentioned. Focus, focus.

“They’re excellent.” Sam‘s upbeat attitude seemed to be his signature trait. “Great cast, awesome script. They shot all the interiors in L.A. and now we’re doing the exteriors in Golden. It’s beautiful up there.” Sam met her eyes again in the rearview mirror. “Not the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all day, but still pretty breathtaking.”

Oh no, could she please have some wine with the cheese? Yet Sam could prove to be a way to keep her mind off the tall, dark and, oh-my-God-hot specimen sitting next to her. And he was definitely flirting while Micah was probably just being Micah. She gave Sam a small wink. “You’ll have to show me around.”

His face lit up. “I will.”

Micah pulled his leg away—deliberately? She couldn’t tell, but his retreat blew through her like a cold draft. He covered a yawn with his hand and pulled down the armrest between their seats and closed his eyes. “Sam, is it? Are we all staying in the same hotel?”

“No. You and the other actors are up the mountain a bit. The rest are staying in a Comfort Inn.”

“Good,” Micah said, his eyes still closed. “I prefer the cast and crew separated. I hope you’re dropping me off first.”

“Certainly.” The ever cheerful Sam seemed only slightly downtrodden by the superiority in Micah’s tone.

Maddie’s insides echoed the same disappointment. Who knew Micah Preston was such a jerk? Had he been that guy when she’d first met him? Or had he become that way with fame and money? Whichever, he was bad news. Now if someone could convince her body…

Her phone buzzed with a text. He doesn’t remember u? So no replays of your night together?

Not a chance. So over him.

It was only partially a lie. He still made her insides hot and bothered like no one had in a long time, but he was cocky, a player, and had forgotten her. Three strikes against him. Maddie had never been a sports fan, but she was pretty sure that three strikes meant you were out.

Her.

Even with his eyes closed he still saw her face.

Micah had spotted her talking to Sam by baggage claim, and though it took him a moment, he knew there was something familiar about her big dark eyes, high cheekbones and long legs, hidden beneath her baggy sweats. And that perky bosom of hers that peeked out above the low neckline of her tank top—he’d definitely fondled those tits before. But when?

He was so distracted trying to place her that he hadn’t even minded signing autographs for fans. He’d needed those couple of minutes to gather himself.

It wasn’t until he’d seen her up close, her hair all mussed and cheeks flushed like a woman after a night of pleasure, that he suddenly remembered her. Maddie from the party. Oh, yeah. That chick.

If he remembered correctly, that party was before he’d even signed with Stu. He had to be careful or she’d want to hook up again. Women from his past didn’t ever want anything except his fame and fortune. Hell, women in his present only wanted that. He decided it best to pretend he didn’t remember her at all.

She remembered him, though. It was obvious. Recognition spread over her face the minute he said her name. Her eyes glimmered with hopefulness.

Then the spark left and letdown settled on her features. He could have thrown her a bone then, given her a hint that he knew her, but he didn’t.

Yeah, he was an asshole.

Then he was stuffed in the SUV with her, drowning in her unique smell and memories of their evening together crashed over him like a giant wave—her tentative flirting, his smooth moves, that apple-pear body spray she used, the one she still wore now. He hadn’t done anything big yet. She hadn’t even known he was an actor. And still, she’d let him kiss her and touch her. Very intimately.

Was she the last woman he’d kissed before he’d become known? Too many years and women had passed for him to be sure. Maybe she wasn’t, but she reminded him of that time. Before he doubted the sincerity of every compliment. When his pick-up lines were meant to start relationships, not just get some for the night.

Now no pick-up lines were necessary at all. He could bag a girl with a flash of his famous smile. And though having models and costars and willing fans lined up at his bedroom door was out-of-this-world awesome, it got boring. Hot sex wasn’t the same as just talking and flirting and connecting with a woman. How long had it been since he’d done that?