Star Struck (Hollywood Heat) Page 4

  She let her hand settle on an electric drill. It felt strange in her hand, not an item she’d ever find herself in contact with. She wasn’t even sure she knew how to use one. It was perfect—an unexpected prop and one that a writer could have a lot of fun with.

  But she couldn’t take it…could she?

  She heard voices from the stage and could tell that the group was gathering. The intros were about to start. She had no time. She glanced around to see if she had any other options and spotted an older, more worn drill on the counter. Black Sharpie marked it as “Property of Broad Stage.” This drill was better. Bigger and more awkward, and she’d feel less guilty about borrowing it. Without another thought, she picked up the old drill and began wrapping the cord around its body.

  “Did you get lost?”

  She spun around at the sound of the familiar voice—the voice that made her slippery in her silk panties—and clutched the drill behind her back.

  Seth stood in the doorway, one arm propped against the frame, his blue eyes freezing her to her spot. He wore a plain burgundy T-shirt and carpenter jeans with a tool belt wrapped around his waist. She hadn’t imagined the intensity of her attraction to him—it was real. Just looking at him now made her chest tight and breathing seemed harder than it should be.

  Realizing he’d nearly caught her in the act of “borrowing” a tool, she threw her shoulders back and put on her best innocent look. “No, I was…just…trying to find someplace I could be alone.” She could feel her eyelashes fluttering as she spoke, as if they had a mind of their own. Whether they were trying to hide her guilt or flirting, she wasn’t sure.

  God, she was pathetic.

  Seth narrowed his eyes and approached her with long slow steps, each one making her heart beat faster. “There are lots of places in the theater to be alone. This isn’t one of them.”

  It certainly wasn’t. Though she was alone with him. And his words, pretty much acknowledging that fact, made her light-headed.

  He kept coming toward her until he was right beside her. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the cast Meet and Greet?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be there?”

  “I’ll get there eventually.” He leaned against the counter and gestured at her with a nod. “Whatcha got behind your back?”

  His scent, a mixture of soap and sweat and cedar, wafted from his skin, making her weak in the knees. “Nothing.” Yeah, that didn’t sound childish. “I mean, none of your business.” Oh, much better.

  Why did speaking to Seth always get her so flustered? He wasn’t supposed to talk to her, anyway. It was a rule all the crew was given—only talk to the actors when necessary for the show. She clutched onto that rule now like a life vest. “You aren’t supposed to talk to me.”

  “Whoops.”

  Obviously, Seth didn’t care too much about following rules.

  And if he was going to be that way, she wasn’t going to feel bad about borrowing a drill. She just had to figure how to get out of there without him noticing she had it. Glancing around, she spotted another exit just behind her. If she walked backwards, she could make it to that door without him spotting the drill. She had to try.

  “Well, since I’m essential out there, I better go.” She took one cautious step backward, away from him.

  “You mean as opposed to me being unessential.”

  She hadn’t meant for that to sound so snotty. “No.” But it was true. The Meet and Greet was about the actors. And the set was completely unnecessary. “Well, yes. But…”

  “Don’t fret it, princess. I knew what you meant.”

  His tone reaffirmed that he’d already made up his mind about her. He thought she was stuck-up, and wasn’t she? But he didn’t have to parade his dislike of her. “Whatever.”

  She took another couple of steps backward, but the cord slipped from where she’d wrapped it around the drill dangling behind her. And before she realized it, the heel of her sandal caught on it, throwing her off balance. She cast out her arms, trying to stop her momentum, but she only managed to postpone the inevitable fall.

  Thankfully, her plummet was stopped by strong, fast arms that circled around her waist in a firm grasp.

  “Whoa.” Seth held her, his face inches from hers, concern in his eyes mixed with something else—desire? “You okay?”

  She stared into his face, his lips so close she could kiss them if she lifted her head. And she wanted to lift her head. So bad. “I’m okay.” Her voice was a whisper. “I just tripped.”

  His eyes scanned her face, lingering on her mouth. And then moved lower to her breast line. She felt her skin warm and redden under his gaze. When his stare found its way back to hers, he unwrapped an arm from her waist and brought it between them.

  She tensed waiting for his touch. Longing for his touch. Would his hand trail up her arm? Or caress her cheek? Or, though highly inappropriate, brush her breast? She let out a shaky breath at the thought.

  But the touch she longed for didn’t come in any form. Instead he pulled the tool she still clutched in her hand from her grasp and curled his lip. “If you needed a drill, princess, all you had to do was ask.”

  Disappointed and embarrassed she pushed out of his arms. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Do you need a screw as well?”

  “Stop it, okay?” It surprised her how near tears she was. “I needed a prop. Are you happy? I knocked over my purse in the car and my handcuffs must have fallen out and my assistant is clear out in Bel Air picking up my birth control and she won’t be back in time for the Meet and Greet, even if I manage to go last, and I was desperate so I came in here to look for something I could use and this was the first thing I found.”

  He chuckled in a way that both irritated and excited her. “Handcuffs? Birth control?”

  Her face warmed from equal parts frustration and humiliation. “Can I just…can I use it?”

  “Can you use what?”

  “The drill, Seth.”

  “Of course. I told you all you had to do was ask.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “But here—” He exchanged the theater’s drill for his own, still on the counter behind them. “Take mine instead. No one will know who it really belonged to or that you came unprepared. Now wasn’t it a good thing I was around?”

  He held out the drill to her and she took it from his hand, brushing his fingertips as she did. The touch shot a surge of electricity through her body. Still she said, “This doesn’t make us friends.”

  His hand sprung out and grabbed her arm just below her elbow. “Do you really think I want to be friends?”

  Confused by the roughness of the action and the delight at the feel of his fingers on her bare skin, she didn’t know if she should pull away or lean in further. “I…I don’t know what you want,” she managed to stammer, realizing that she didn’t know what she wanted either.

  His grasp softened slightly and he drew her closer. For the second time that night she thought—no wished—he would kiss her. Instead, when his head bent toward her, it stopped near her ear. “Isn’t it too bad that you won’t let yourself find out?”

  His husky whisper sent a serious shiver through her body. For one minute she believed she could let herself find out. That she could forget her past and everything that Seth represented to her. That she could fall into his arms and let his mouth and body erase every bad memory and association she had with people who performed manual labor for a living.

  But she’d spent too many years believing the opposite. The walls she’d have to break down to let someone like Seth in were pretty sturdy.

  When she spoke, her voice didn’t sound like her own. The tone was meek and unsure and breathy. “I have to go.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He released her and she turned and walked away on unsteady legs. And just like when she’d left her trailer home when she’d been kicked out at sixteen, she didn’t look back.

  He was like her past. She didn’t need him. She didn’t wan
t him.

  This time, though, the effort to not look back was excruciating.

  Four

  At nearly one o’clock in the afternoon, Seth was exhausted and grumpy as fuck. He’d been busting ass on set pieces since he first saw the scripts at six-thirty that morning, not even stopping to eat breakfast with the cast and crew. He couldn’t spare the break, but more importantly, he was certain if he saw Heather, his focus would be shattered.

  Not that his focus was any good having not seen her. He’d been working with a semi all morning. Every time he reached for his tools, every time he drove in a screw, he couldn’t help but remember his interaction with her the night before. She’d looked so damn sexy with her delicate hands and scarlet red nail polish clutching his drill. How gorgeous her hands would look wrapped around his cock.

  His dick leapt just thinking about it.

  But her attitude was still not worth it, he reminded himself. There were enough beautiful women in the world. Why he was so hard-up over such a bitch was beyond him.

  Seth wiped a layer of sweat off his brow with the back of his arm and lowered his sander to the ground behind him. He removed his safety glasses and gloves, then ran his hand across the arm of the wooden deck chair he’d just finished. It was smooth enough. As smooth as it was going to get with no time to varnish, anyway.

  His ears perked up at the bustle of changing casts on the stage next door. Each of the six shows had only one precious hour onstage, the rest of their rehearsals taking place in outlying rooms, and he’d tried to complete construction for each show as they arrived on stage. The deck chair was for the play scheduled to rehearse now—Heather’s show. He’d likely see her when he delivered it.

  He took a deep breath and hefted the chair over his shoulder to carry it out to the stage. One step into the wing, though, and he nearly dropped the piece. He’d known he might encounter the bombshell, but there was no way he could have prepared himself for the sight that met him.

  Heather, apparently not yet needed onstage, was practicing in the wings. On her knees. Wearing nothing but a skimpy yellow polka-dot bikini. Straddling the drill. His drill.

  Fuck, if she wasn’t every man’s wet dream come to life.

  His cock instantly grew from semi to raging.

  Realizing she hadn’t noticed him, he adjusted the chair on his shoulder and continued his task. Instead of going around the actress in his pathway, he stepped over her with one long stride.

  Yeah, he was asking for trouble. But somehow he couldn’t resist trouble when it took the form of Heather Wainwright.

  “Hey!” she screeched as he passed.

  Ignoring her, he walked onto the stage and set down the deck chair near the back, careful not to disturb the actors rehearsing.

  “Damn, Seth!” Mardi, the director of Heather’s play, exclaimed from the audience. “That’s perfect! Thanks!”

  He smiled and nodded toward her.

  “Let’s start from the top now that we have the real chair,” Mardi said to her performers as Seth returned back to the wing. Back to Heather.

  Again, he didn’t alter his path, but stepped over the actress in one stride.

  “Do you mind?”

  He turned back to face her. “I should be asking you the same thing. You’re in my space after all.”

  “This is not your space. This is the wing. Where actors wait for their entrances.”

  “By all means. Go back to your waiting. Don’t mind me.”

  She glared, a delicious glare that caused his cock to pulse. Then she lowered her head and returned to practicing with the drill.

  He folded his arms and leaned against the wall to watch her. She recited her lines quietly so he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but from her actions, he understood the gist. Heather’s character was attempting to drill into the sand at the beach. For what reason, he could only imagine, though he could tell the bit would be funny as she struggled with the heavy drill, straddling it to get a better grasp.

  It would also be goddamn sexy as hell. Just ask the straining bulge in his pants.

  He let out a laugh, disgusted with his body’s reaction.

  “What?” Heather’s head snapped toward him.

  “None of your beeswax.” He’d be damned if he let her know what she did to him.

  “Then can you give me some space here? Remember you’re supposed to leave me alone?”

  “You started talking to me first, princess.” He stepped toward her. “And this is my territory.”

  She dropped the drill and stood. “Stop calling me that!”

  “What? Princess?” He felt the smirk on his face. “I just call things as I see them. Sorry if it hits too close to home.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “Why are you such an asshole?”

  “Why are you such a bitch?” A bitch with fuckably pouty lips and soft, luscious curves.

  “I’m only responding to my environment. You’re so mean to me. What did I ever do to you?”

  What did he do to her? He almost laughed out loud. As if she was completely innocent in their feud.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. Forget keeping his reaction to her a secret. She asked and he was so turned on by her that his body moved of its own accord. Grabbing her by the waist, he pushed her into the wall behind them and pressed full against her. Damn, she felt better against him than he could have ever imagined. Her full breasts rose and fell with her heavy breaths, her nipples standing through the flimsy material of her suit, begging him for attention.

  “That’s what you do to me, princess.” He nearly growled the words as he ground his erection into her pelvis.

  She drew in a sharp breath, such a sexy sound he nearly exploded.

  His brain screamed at him to stop. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be touching her. Not just because she was a snotty bitch, but because of their roles in the showcase. And because she was a woman who hadn’t indicated any interest. His behavior was incredibly inappropriate.

  But he couldn’t help himself. And as he registered the desire in her eyes, mirroring his own, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in to take her plump lower lip between his teeth, nibbling softly before thrusting his tongue into her lush mouth.

  He’d barely gotten to taste her, to lose himself in the wonder of her warm lips, before her palms landed on his chest and shoved. Hard.

  Her delicate stature was no match for his muscled frame, but he pulled away, as horribly painful as it was to do so.

  She slapped him.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes were dark with fury.

  Well, he deserved that.

  He brought his hand up to rub the sting from his cheek but was startled from the action when Heather grabbed fistfuls of his T-shirt and pulled him back to her. Back to her sweet mouth.

  He was so astonished that it took him half a beat to react to the rough sweep of her tongue. Then he did react, with plunging strokes of his own, sucking her lip deep into his mouth, his fingers winding tightly into her ponytail. He couldn’t get close enough to her, couldn’t get deep enough inside her.

  Her fingers dug into his chest as he pushed closer, and he groaned. She met it with a low, needy moan, the sound vibrating through Seth so completely he could feel it in his balls. He increased the depth of the kiss, stealing her breath until they were both panting as his hand circled her plump breast and squeezed. She cried out softly against his lips, spurring him on, driving him farther into her embrace.

  He pulled the cup of her bikini down to expose her nipple and lowered his head to take it into his mouth. He bit and sucked, letting out the aggression he’d felt toward her over the past two days. He was rough and abrasive and from the sweet gasps that escaped her mouth, she loved it.

  Damn, could she be any more sexy?

  Pure lust enveloped him and he knew nothing could tear him from her—not her attitude, not his past experience with Erica, not his conscience telling him he knew better. Not
hing.

  Except the sound of her name being called from the stage behind them.

  “Goddammit,” she hissed, pulling up her swimsuit. She brushed past him not giving him a second look as she retrieved the drill and headed toward the stage.

  Whether she’d been pissed about their encounter, about missing her cue, or about being interrupted, he didn’t know. What he did know was that the snotty princess had gotten under his skin. Big time.

  Yep. Goddammit was right.

  Heather went through the rest of rehearsal on autopilot. If she let herself think at all her mind would journey right back to the heated moment backstage with Seth—the brusque way he’d thrown her to the wall, his rough mouth on her breast, his thick yearning pressed hard against her. And those thoughts were not ones she could grapple with easily.

  Particularly difficult to digest was her reaction to him—she’d wanted him so damn much. More than she’d wanted a man in a long while. His lips on her had ignited such an intense blaze of wet desire, she was certain everyone could tell through her skimpy bikini bottom. She would have given him all of her if they hadn’t been interrupted.

  Thank God they were interrupted.

  Because what she would have done and what she should have done were so not the same. Even if she could get over all that he was and represented in her life, she still detested the man. Why she was so turned on by someone so insolent and mean was a question for her therapist, and she had no appointments set for the near future.

  Lunch followed her cast’s stage time, bringing relief. The concentration it had taken to remain in character had given her a headache that she hoped food and downtime would ease.

  But having her mind free of lines and blocking, she now had to face what had occurred with Seth. It weighed on her as she made herself a plate from the catered buffet and then looked for a place to sit among the tables the crew had set up in the docking area.

  Seth’s work area.

  Just being among his tools and unfinished set pieces made her heartbeat pick up. And where was he? She pretended not to look for him as she navigated her way to a table of actors and sat down.