Sex Symbol (Hollywood Heat Book 1) Read online

  Her eyes widened. “They take forever to put together.”

  “I bet. But it’s worth it. It reminds me of Soderbergh. Or early Aronofsky.”

  “Really? I was going for Godard, but I’ll take Soderbergh and Aronofsky any day.”

  “Godard,” he chuckled. “Of course. Back to the roots. Yes, I see the influence of Breathless.”

  She smiled, meeting his eyes for the first time in the conversation. The sudden connection shocked him and they both looked away quickly.

  “What’s the story?” he asked, returning to the film.

  “Young woman stuck in a mundane life. She becomes obsessed with wanting to fly.”

  “To fly?” He wasn’t expecting that.

  “A symbolism of her desire to be free. Free to do what she wants, free to follow her heart, her dreams.”

  “She’s you.”

  She didn’t reply and he realized from her downcast eyes that he’d said something too personal.

  He moved back to safer ground. “What are you doing with it? Is it a short?”

  “It’s full-length.” She stretched and leaned back in her chair. “I’m slowly putting it together whenever I have down time. I worked like crazy for years to save up for production and then I hired some friends real cheap and took some time off to shoot. That’s what I was doing while you were filming in L.A.”

  So that’s why she joined the crew late. “And when it’s finished?”

  “I don’t know. Enter it in festivals maybe.” She sighed. “It’s hard to find time to work on it. I don’t know when it will be done. If I could afford more time off...”

  Her voice trailed off and Micah felt the yearning in her unspoken words. Not for the first time in his life he recognized how lucky he’d been to “make it” in the business, so to say. It hadn’t been easy, but some people—many people—didn’t ever get the chances he had. They worked and struggled and hit brick wall after brick wall. What obstacles had Maddie come up against?

  He could help her, if he wanted to. He shouldn’t, he’d been burned before. But he could.

  He leaned back against the arm of the leather sofa. “Have you tried to get some backers?”

  She shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, no.”

  “Why not?”

  She shook her head. “Um, I just…I wouldn’t find anyone who’d invest. Trust me.”

  He was puzzled by her response. Maddie worked with a lot of big names. Surely she could get interest from the directors she knew alone. Maybe she was scared. He could understand that. But she didn’t need to be. “It’s good, Maddie.”

  She laughed, the light sound awakening his cock. “You don’t know that. You saw two minutes.”

  He held his messenger bag in front of him to hide the protrusion in his pants. “More like ten. I was watching long before I said anything.”

  She looked up at him through her long eyelashes, her eyes seeking affirmation, and suddenly he felt like a total dick. He’d pestered her and flirted with her, as if the most important thing in her life could be getting laid by Micah Preston. But all Maddie wanted was someone to tell her she was good.

  He swallowed, then said the words he knew he shouldn’t. “I’d back it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ha, thanks.”

  Another woman would have taken advantage of his attraction to her and tried to weasel money out of him. But Maddie didn’t even take it when he offered. Was that her game? Was she playing him slowly?

  No, he didn’t believe that. She hadn’t ever meant for him to see her film.

  He tried again. “I’m serious.”

  “Ah no, that’s not a good idea.” Her defenses were up. He was surprised she’d let them down at all. Didn’t she realize how weak he was? How hard it was for him to uphold his promise to leave her alone? Defense mode was a good thing.

  “Okay, if you don’t want my money, which I have plenty of and have been looking to invest in production opportunities, I totally understand. But I can hook you up with other producers.”

  She swiveled in her chair and met his eyes again. She held his gaze for several long seconds. Finally she spoke. “Don’t be nice to me, it confuses me.”

  He grinned. “Sorry. I won’t let it happen again.” She returned his smile and he had to force himself not to wrap her up in his arms. Why did he have to be such a shit with her? Maybe he could try to be something different with her. Could attempt a real relationship.

  But even if her hesitancy wasn’t from fear, his was. He was scared. A big fat chicken. And he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

  He straightened and pulled his bag to his shoulder. “Consider the offer, okay?”

  She turned back to her computer. “Okay.”

  “You don’t mean that, do you?”

  A small smile crossed her lips. “No, not really. Now go away.”

  He scrutinized her, studying the soft features of her face, wishing he could get inside her head. She was proud, but not haughty, simultaneously strong and fragile. She longed to be free, to fly, so to speak, in her own way, but refused to take a handout. It was so refreshing in the world of show business, where so many people were pompous self-serving assholes. He loved that about her.

  Though he shouldn’t be loving anything about Maddie. That completely broke his no-strings rule.

  She shifted in her chair under his long stare. “What?”

  “Just…you never cease to amaze me, Maddie from the party.” He walked toward the door, refusing to look back at her. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to turn away from her again.

  Twelve

  Maddie was pissed.

  After a whole week of avoiding any Micah drama, he had to go and wreck it in the sweetest way possible with compliments and praise and long intense gazes. Seriously? What the hell was she supposed to do with that?

  It had been bad enough when her attraction was all sexual, her body betraying everything her mind commanded. But after her encounter with him the night before when he’d said all those nice things about her film and had recognized very private things about her in her art, she had fallen, smack, head-over-heels for the guy. And that flippin’ sucked.

  Now, like any lovesick fool, she could think of nothing but him. She kept searching for him during setup, kept looking off toward his trailer. Even that afternoon during her daily run, which usually distracted and calmed her, she could not rid her mind of Micah, Micah, Micah. Of course, it didn’t help that she continued her running course past his hotel. Because it was the best view, she told herself. Yeah, right. Damn, she had it bad.

  Just get through the next two nights, she thought as she prepared her calculations with the stand-in. Two last nights of shooting before a whole day off. Then they’d be back to day shoots and everything would be clearer in the sunlight.

  Getting through tonight wouldn’t be easy, though. The scene they were shooting took place around a campfire. The unsteady light source was sure to play tricks on the focus and the dark night made it difficult for actors to hit their marks correctly. She threw herself into the preparations, double and triple checking each measurement, trying to foresee any possible change that might arise during filming. By the time the actors were due to arrive she thought she actually had a good handle on the situation.

  But then Micah appeared on set and she was a goner. He wore baggy jeans that hung on his hips in a way that got her juices flowing, and he had no shirt. God, he had no shirt! Was that in the script? She’d never seen his bare chest in-person—and it was a pretty sight. His stomach was perfectly sculpted, his pecs rock-hard. The small trail of hair at his navel caused her core to clench. She longed to trace it with her fingers. Who was she kidding? She longed to trace it with her tongue.

  Damn Micah Preston and his hot body.

  Yep, she was completely pissed.

  When Micah took his place by the campfire, it was even worse. His blue eyes smoldered in the low light, and the flames, as they licked and furled unpredic
tably, seemed to echo the unstable electric pulses deep in her belly. He wound her up so tight and distracted her so thoroughly, how could she possibly make it through the evening’s filming?

  And that was only the beginning of the disastrous shoot.

  By the time they made it through one full take, there had already been three false starts and two “cuts” because of lighting issues. Beaumont had to be throwing a fit. Maddie was glad he was directing over the headset so she didn’t have to witness his displeasure. Even Joe, normally easy-going and laid back, didn’t bother to hide the tension, snapping and barking the directions he relayed to the cast and crew. Before an hour had gone by, everyone was in as foul a mood as Maddie.

  With all the problems, the thing that continued to piss Maddie off the most was the actors. Well, one actor, who kept missing his mark. Micah had run his blocking perfectly during the run-through, but in every take thereafter he stopped his movement in the wrong spot. If he’d be consistent with the mistake it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it wasn’t even the same wrong spot. With the unpredictable fire, Maddie found it impossible to adjust to his mistakes.

  “We’re out of focus,” Maddie told Adam in between takes. “Micah isn’t hitting his mark.”

  Adam nodded and called Joe over, repeating Maddie’s concern.

  “Micah,” Joe called out. “Where are you stopping on that line? Can you show me?”

  Micah stood on his mark and Maddie ran the calculations again. He was in the right spot. Maybe she’d been the one who was wrong.

  But when the camera rolled, he missed it again. And again.

  “What’s going on, Maddie?” Adam asked after another nine takes. “Beaumont is going off saying none of the shots are in focus.”

  Maddie cringed. She wished she had a headset so she could tell Beaumont he needed to take up the issue with his actor. “Micah’s still not hitting his mark.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure!” She usually didn’t get defensive with Adam, but this seriously wasn’t her fault. And Micah knew where he was supposed to land for his monologue. He hit it whenever they called him on it. So why did he keep fucking it up? Was he trying to piss her off?

  Adam relayed the message to Beaumont over his headset.

  “Micah, can you hit that mark again?” Joe said. “We’re still having a focus issue.”

  Adam ran the shot then asked over the headset, “Was that good?” He listened then said to Maddie. “It’s good just like that.”

  Maddie scowled. “Then get him to hit that when he actually runs the scene and we’ll be golden.”

  “Okay, Micah,” Joe said. “You have to hit that exact spot or we can’t get the shot.”

  “Got it,” Micah said. Did he just roll his eyes? Maddie wasn’t sure in the dark.

  They ran the scene again with the same results: Micah missed his mark and the shot was blurry.

  “Cut!” Joe said. “Hold for five. Beaumont’s on his way down.”

  Maddie groaned. Beaumont only came to the set if he was really ticked-off. Just what she needed—to be the source of his ticked-offedness. He’d already ended any chances of her being a director in Hollywood. Would he now blacklist her as a camera assistant as well?

  When Beaumont arrived he marched directly up to Adam and Maddie. “What is the goddamned problem?”

  It wasn’t her place to talk to the director about actor issues so she swallowed the response she wanted to give and let Adam speak.

  “Micah’s been missing his mark,” he answered, a lot more patiently than Maddie would have.

  Beaumont called the actor over. “Hey, the crew says you’re having trouble hitting your mark.”

  Micah’s eye twitched. “I’m not. I’ve hit it every time.”

  Weeks of sexual frustration fed her work frustration and Maddie’s anger spiraled out of control. “You have not! You keep walking right past it!”

  “Maddie,” Adam warned. The crew did not address actors. That was the director’s job.

  Micah narrowed his eyes, but didn’t look at Maddie. “Look, run it again. It will be perfect. Like it’s been the last twenty times. You can see for yourself.”

  Beaumont considered. Then he turned to Adam. “You run focus, I’ll shoot.”

  Adam took Maddie’s place while Beaumont climbed behind the camera. They ran the scene again. Just like Micah said it would be, the scene was perfect. Maddie fumed. They ran the scene two more times with the same results. Finally, Beaumont called it a wrap.

  Maddie watched as the crew began to clean up, frozen in her anger and humiliation and guilt. Adam—wonderful Adam who stood behind her and mentored her for years—pulled down to do her job because Micah Preston decided to be a dick. At least, that’s the only logical conclusion she could think of.

  She turned to the cameraman. “Adam,” she said, holding back angry tears. “He didn’t hit his marks when I was on focus, I don’t know why—”

  “You know what, Maddie?” Adam interrupted, his voice low and rough. “I don’t care what the problem is or was or the why, but I’m telling you right now it better be fixed by the time you return to this set. I will not stand for that shit when I’m on camera, not even with you. You hear me?”

  Adam had never spoken so harshly to her before. And the reason he was angry wasn’t even her fault.

  “Now, get off my set. I don’t want to see you until call tomorrow.”

  Dismissed from set. She had to set Micah straight. She spun around searching and spotted him walking towards the trailers.

  “Micah?” She ran after him. She caught up with him as he approached his trailer from the back. “Micah?”

  He turned to face her, an impatient expression on his face.

  “What the hell was that?” she asked.

  “What the hell was what?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You missed your mark, and what’s more, I think you did it on purpose.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did! And when Beaumont took over you got it perfect. Which made me look like shit. What I don’t get is why.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did the scene the same each time. If you’re feeling insecure about your work, that’s fine, but to blame it on me is real low.”

  “Fuck you, Micah.”

  “Whatever, Maddie.” He turned to walk away.

  Her fury escalated. “Wait, I’m not done.”

  He pivoted back on her. “By all means, Maddie, go ahead.”

  Anger flooded her, so much that she shook. She pointed an unsteady finger at him. “You.” She stepped toward him, gathering her strength. “You’re such an actor. You charm and you play and you get into my head and jerk around with my emotions and my body. One minute you don’t remember me and you’re rude and arrogant and then you’re thoughtful and intellectual and complimentary, all the time parading around with your hot body and please-touch-me six-pack abs. Then you’re kissing me and stroking me, but oh, oh, oh wait! Nothing can come of this because, you know, ‘I have rules.’”

  He snorted. “This coming from Miss Leave-Me-Alone-While-I-Give-A-Hand-Job-Under-The-Table?”

  Maddie had never felt so outraged in her life. She rushed at him, placed her hands on his bare chest and shoved with all her strength.

  It felt so good to unleash her fury, she raised her arms to shove him again. But he grabbed her at her wrists before she could. Then he pulled her to him. In an instant, he was on her—his mouth, his tongue—kissing her with a fire and passion she’d never felt in a kiss before.

  And she responded with equal fervor, her fingers clawing his rock-hard pecs. It was all-consuming, her pent-up desire met with his, and she was immediately lost in his touch, his taste, his scent of sweat and makeup and campfire. Two weeks and seven years of longing had led to this moment and she no longer cared about what would happen after, just the now. She couldn’t get enough; she wanted him. All of him.

  Micah wante
d more too. He pushed her against the backside of the trailer, pinning her with his leg, the now familiar ridge in his pants, hard against her thigh while he fumbled at the buttons of her shirt. She was vaguely aware of her shirt falling to the ground as he undid the closure of her jeans, releasing the edge of her tank top. Then his hand was underneath her top, caressing her breast. She leaned into his palm and moaned against his lips. His other hand moved lower, slipping under the band of her panties to reach the center of her want. Skillfully he touched her, circling his thumb against her sensitive bud, sending electric shocks throughout her body.

  And then he went even lower. First he eased one finger into her. Ecstasy. She almost came undone right then as she clenched around him, wet and hot. He pulled out and she arched to follow him, not wanting him to stop. He met her motion with two fingers, plunged deeper this time, all the while rubbing her clit.

  He continued to finger her, massaging her in and out, while she struggled with the fly of his pants, freeing his hard, thick staff. She stroked him as he throbbed in her hand, causing him to utter a deep, lustful groan.

  Somewhere in her head her conscience tugged for her attention, shouting at her to stop and think about what was happening. She was about to do it with Micah Preston pressed up against the back of his trailer. Was this really how she wanted sex with him to go? In a public place where anyone could walk by at any minute? Did he even have a condom? She sure as hell didn’t.

  But her body’s heightened sense of arousal drowned out any common sense. Clutching his back, she wrapped a leg around his waist and he removed his hand from her breast to help hold her up. His other hand left her southern region, the sudden absence of his probing almost painful, and he lifted her other leg around him.

  Condom! Her conscience screamed at her.

  Then all thoughts and sensations were interrupted by the sound of voices and approaching footsteps.

  “Fuck!” Micah slapped the back of the trailer, dropping her gently as he did.