Acting Lessons

by Adele Buck

  “Why don’t you take some time to find out rather than deciding before you’ve spent even twenty-four hours in each other’s company?”

  “What happened to encouraging me to have a relationship outside the business?”

  “Apparently that didn’t work out so well for you. And you and James seemed to have a really nice thing two years ago. I ship it.” Cath’s eyes glittered with amusement, one hand curled over her softly rounded belly.

  Freddie crossed one leg over the other. The move exacerbated the slight soreness from last night’s sex and her mouth twisted. Forcing herself to meet Cath’s eyes, she nodded slightly. “Yeah. We did. James still wants to be the hero, though, you know? And I don’t need rescuing anymore.”

  “Well, why don’t you give him a chance to learn how to stand back and let you rescue yourself?”

  By the time James had finished his dinner and was nursing a cup of coffee, he had two pages full of notes and a bunch of scribbled marginalia in his script. Even if the text didn’t give him much to work with, he was determined to turn this character into a three-dimensional person. By building out backstory, creating memories for his character, identifying moments in the dialogue where he could add some subtext, he could add shading and layers: the history and little inconsistencies—the spark of humanity that made a performance real.

  Sipping the last of his coffee, he took care of the bill and picked up his script and notebook as he got to his feet. Heading for the elevator, he wondered what he should do with the rest of his evening. He was in that drab mood where nothing sounded appealing. Letting himself into his room, he looked around at the sterile scene. Even though the housekeeping staff had changed the bed and smoothed away all traces of the night before, the space still reminded him of Freddie.

  Well, it was a pretty spectacular night.

  Enough already. He remembered his real estate agent had promised to send him some apartment listings to look at. Grabbing his tablet off the desk, he sat in an armchair and swiped through them, taking notes on features he liked and dismissing a couple of options out of hand. He sent an e-mail back to the agent, asking if they could start viewing the ones that looked good the next day.

  Putting the tablet down, his gaze returned to that smooth, neutral bed. He realized he was rubbing his fingertips across his lips, remembering Freddie’s bold demands and his eager response to them.

  He really wanted to get her back here and mess up that bed again.

  No. What he wanted was deeper than that.

  Why not try, then?

  Digging his phone out of his pocket, he sent her a text.

  Hey, up to anything tonight?

  Not wanting to torture himself waiting for a response, he opened Twitter and started to scroll through his mentions. So he was surprised when a reply popped up almost immediately.

  Just leaving Cath and Paul’s. You at the hotel?

  Chapter 7

  Freddie mentally kicked herself in the elevator on the way up to James’ room.

  Foolish, foolish, foolish, foolish. She should have said she’d meet him in a public place. She should have given herself room to maneuver, to think.

  Instead, she was probably going to go up there and just screw him senseless. No thinking allowed. His text had sent a bolt of sheer lust through her and she had hardly been able to get out of Cath and Paul’s apartment fast enough. Cath, given her knowing nature, was probably laughing about Freddie’s response to the text this very minute. She’d practically left a Freddie-shaped hole in their front door, like an old-timey cartoon.

  On consideration, Freddie discovered that she really didn’t care.

  Great. Just great. No shame, no dignity, just sheer unadulterated horniness.

  This was what came of always doing and not thinking. She wasn’t used to not thinking. Her entire life, her job, hinged on her ability to use her brain, to look ahead, to see potential problems and defuse them before they could blow up.

  The elevator dinged and the door whooshed open, the trendy hallway stretching out in front of her, evenly spaced doors punctuating the long line. It was like a sleek version of The Shining, except what awaited her wasn’t a crazed madman with an axe, but the possibility of a supremely amazing orgasm. Or five.

  Overdramatic much?

  Straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Freddie marched down the hallway to James’ door. Balling her hand into a fist, she tapped out a brisk tattoo and waited almost no time at all. The door opened and James was there, filling up the space, his gleaming grin making something inside her chest expand like a flower opening.

  “Hey, Fred.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Freddie’s voice had turned into a croak and she resisted the urge to clear her throat.

  “You coming in?”

  “You getting out of the doorway?”

  The grin widened and he backed away from the door, giving her room to enter. Remembering how she had left it, she suppressed a smile as she realized how tidy and streamlined the space was in comparison to the scattered clothing and thoroughly disordered sheets she recalled leaving behind.

  “Thinking of how it looked this morning?”

  Damn. He really does know me too well.

  “Maybe.”

  James turned and bent over the desk, hefting a champagne bottle out of a silvery ice bucket. Freddie blinked as he looked back at her, one eyebrow cocked.

  “Cheesy?” he asked.

  Freddie shrugged, suppressing a smile. “I like champagne as much as the next girl. Go ahead and pour.”

  James’s grin reasserted itself and he eased the cork out of the bottle and poured the wine into two flutes. Handing one to her, he said, “Here’s to second chances.”

  Freddie tipped her glass so it rang against his. “I like the sound of that.” Taking a small sip, she let the bubbles prickle over her tongue. James extended a hand and she took it, letting him tug her to the oversized armchair next to the bed. Sitting on it, he pulled her sideways onto his lap. She settled herself, careful not to spill her drink.

  “So,” he said. “Now I think we should talk.”

  Dread settled into Freddie’s stomach. “Talk?”

  “Yes. Talk.”

  James sipped his wine and thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I think we got everything a little backwards.”

  Freddie shifted on his lap to look at him and he mentally braced himself, telling himself not to react to the sensations her movements created, remembering her rocking against him the night before. “What do you mean?” she said.

  Suppressing the nervous jigging in his gut, he said, “I still really like you, Fred. As crazy-making and stubborn as you can be, I can’t ever get you out of my mind. And it’s not just about sex. I like you. I’d like to see if I can have a relationship with you. And jumping into bed feet-first like that…it seems like it put the cart before the horse. I don’t know if we would have had the same arguments this morning if we hadn’t just thrown ourselves at each other yesterday, but it feels like we might have been able to figure things out a little better than we did. Maybe we would have thought instead of just reacting.” He forced himself to look into her eyes, trying to assess her reaction. Her tongue ran along her lower lip and her pupils expanded ever so slightly.

  Shoving aside the glossy magazine that sat on the little side table next to the chair, she put her glass down. Another surge of nerves ran through him. He had been honest and vulnerable, laying himself open to the possibility of getting hurt. Now was the moment that strategy could backfire.

  He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and asked, “Could you do that? Do you want to do that?”

  Freddie bit her lip. He could smell the light, citrusy scent of her hair. She moved slightly and again he willed his body to be controlled and still. To not react to the sensations caused by her shifting weight on his lap. She had no idea what she was doing to him.

  Here it comes. She doesn’t feel the same way. His stom
ach clenched.

  She nodded.

  Wait, what?

  “Is that a yes, you want to give this a try?”

  Freddie laughed softly. “Are you asking me to wear your class ring? Again?”

  A spurt of laughter bubbled up inside him at the old joke. It was what she had said to him over two years before when he made it plain he wanted to do more than just hang out with her. Her cheekiness had charmed him then.

  It warmed him now.

  Freddie leaned forward and picked up her champagne flute again. She was aware that every time she shifted in James’ lap that she was probably causing him some difficulty, but the solid thighs under her, the mass of chest radiating heat, the faint, clean scent of his shaving soap all made it difficult to stay still. She wanted to wriggle, to straddle his lap instead of sitting across it, to wrap her arms around him and kiss him senseless.

  But what he had said about them—about how their headlong dive into sex possibly being at the root of their problems today—it made sense. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t taking him seriously, that she only wanted him for his body.

  Even though she did want to climb him like a tree.

  Sipping the wine, she contemplated what he had said. “So what does this mean going forward?”

  “Well, I think maybe we slow it down a little bit. Get to know each other again.”

  Freddie rolled her eyes. “We know each other. We’ve known each other for years.”

  “Sort of. The occasional phone call or text doesn’t exactly keep people that close. I liked how we did it the first time. We took our time. We were friends first. But two years is a long time. And we’ve both changed, I think. You definitely have.”

  The gravity of James’ expression pinned her and Freddie resisted the urge to squirm under that intense gaze. Her brain was telling her that what he said had merit. It was mature and reasonable. It might lay the groundwork for something lasting.

  Her libido wanted to strangle her brain and dump it in a ditch.

  “Are you on board here, Fred? Because if you’re not…”

  “I’m on board,” she blurted.

  “Good. Because if you weren’t…”

  “What?”

  “I’d have a hard time not just throwing away my brain and getting carnal with you.”

  Freddie resisted the urge to groan. Instead, she took another sip of champagne, swallowing convulsively. “So. We’re…not?”

  “Not what?” James’ eyes danced with mischief.

  “Not going to get carnal?”

  James took a drink and shifted underneath her. She stayed carefully still. “Not tonight, at any rate. I think we need to learn some self-control.”

  Oh. This was going to be torture.

  “So.” Freddie’s voice squeezed through her thickening throat. “What do you propose?”

  James’ large, warm hand skimmed up her back and gently gripped her shoulder, shaking it slightly. “Relax. I propose a radical agenda. Dates.”

  “Dates?”

  “Yes, dates. Going out on the town, experiencing things. Go have the stupidest, touristy-est, most cliché experiences ever. Public places where we can’t get handsy with each other. Getting to know one another again. How does that sound?”

  Yup. Torture.

  She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Sounds good to me, I guess.”

  The tightness in James’ gut released at her agreement and he leaned back in the chair, relieved. Finishing his champagne, he placed the glass on the table and closed his eyes, thinking. Freddie’s fingers, feather light, skimming along his jaw made them spring open again. She was smiling faintly and her cheeks had an all-too-appealing pink flush.

  “What’cha thinking?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “I’m thinking that staying in a room dominated by a king-size bed is probably not the best way to start our non-carnal getting to know each other again plan.”

  Freddie’s lower lip jutted in a minute pout and James resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss the petulant expression away. Or bite that sassy lip. “Are you kicking me out, then?” she said.

  “That wouldn’t exactly help in the ‘getting to know one another’ part of the getting to know one another again plan.”

  “True.” Freddie finished her wine and he took the glass from her, placing it on the table beside them and setting her on her feet as he rose to stand.

  “Let’s go for a walk. How about that?”

  “I suppose it’s as good a plan as any at this time of night.”

  Grabbing his wallet off the nightstand, he made sure his hotel keycard was in it and took Freddie’s hand once they were in the hallway. It was definitely a good idea to get out of the room. His master plan could have incinerated itself in a matter of moments if he had stayed there with her a moment longer. Or another glass of champagne longer.

  Reaching the lobby, they proceeded outside. James waved off the doorman’s offer of a cab with thanks, leading Freddie down a crosstown street.

  “Where we going?” she asked.

  “I was thinking Fifth Avenue.”

  “Shopping?” She peered sideways at him, mischief in her eyes.

  “Well, window shopping. In a month or two those windows are going to be pretty spectacular for Christmas. I want to see what they normally look like. Have a basis for comparison.”

  “Don’t forget ice skating at Rockefeller Center. You did say touristy and cliché.” She pointed at the lower plaza with its statue of Prometheus as they walked past.

  “I can’t skate to save my life, but I might come by and watch a little,” he said.

  “James Martin, professional perfect person, there’s something you can’t do?”

  Startled, he stopped and turned to look at her. “Perfect? We both know that’s not true.”

  She shrugged. “You just seem to have a lot of stuff figured out. You do a lot of stuff well. It’s…” She trailed off, her shoulders sagging back.

  “What am I doing so well right now?”

  “Being an adult. The whole dating-before-mating plan. I guess this stuff comes easily to you.”

  James huffed an astonished laugh. “You think this is easy? It’s incredibly hard.”

  “Ha ha. Pun intended?” Freddie’s mouth twisted in a wry expression.

  “No but it might as well be.”

  Freddie’s eyes lowered. He waited for her to look up at him again, but it was as if the sidewalk was the most interesting thing she had ever seen. “What’s this about?” he asked.

  “I just thought…maybe…”

  “Use your words, Fred.”

  Her gaze flew up to his face again and she spoke in a rush. “I just thought maybe this was about not really wanting to do this.”

  Baffled, James just looked at her.

  “Maybe you were trying to let me down easy or something.”

  An involuntary laugh huffed out of him. “That is the furthest thing from what I am trying to do.”

  “Okay.”

  James squeezed her hand. “What’s this about? It’s not like you to be suspicious. You’re usually the most trusting person I know.”

  A small gleam in her eye appeared. “Well, you’re getting to know Freddie two-point-oh. And I’m about to go to work tomorrow and see if Susan Vernon is Susan two-point-oh or if she’s the same old original model.”

  “That would make anyone cynical, I guess.”

  Freddie pinched the thumb and index finger of her free hand together and squinted through the tiny gap at him. “Leetle bit.”

  James squeezed Freddie’s hand again as they turned and continued to walk down Fifth Avenue. Her hand always felt tiny when engulfed by his so much larger one. With a lot of people that would annoy her. She didn’t see her short stature as a problem—until she wanted something on a high shelf—but some people had a way of almost treating it as if it made her an eternal child, someone who couldn’t possibly be taken seriously.

&
nbsp; It was different with James.

  The fact that he hadn’t started in on her again about taking the job wasn’t lost on her. She had left him the opening. It hadn’t been a test, she just wasn’t thinking. But he didn’t dive into that opening, nonetheless. It was a gift, of sorts. A measure of how he was willing to get to know her again and not assume he knew what was best, assume he needed to charge in and be the white knight and save her from whatever situation she found herself in.

  She took a deep breath as they waited for a light to change, glancing up at James’ profile. The familiarity of it zinged through her and she realized exactly how much she had missed him over the last two years. And maybe realized a little why she fought so hard against letting him guide her, try to fix things.

  She was afraid she could lose him again.

  In case this didn’t work, she needed to know that she could still stand on her own, be her own savior, her own white knight.

  Lost in her own thoughts, she realized she had let James steer them safely across streets and down the sidewalks of Fifth Avenue. They were stopping now. She glanced again at his face and then followed his gaze to her right. The lions of the Public Library loomed over them, regal and ghostly in the night.

  “I love these guys,” James murmured.

  “They’re called Patience and Fortitude, you know that?”

  His grin broadened as his gaze shifted between the two stone statues. “That right?”

  She looked again at his face, relaxed and happy. “You’re glad to be back in New York, aren’t you?” she said.

  He glanced down at her, a teasing smile dancing in his dark eyes, making her stomach twist with desire. “You have no idea. I don’t think I’m a left coast kind of guy, you know?”

  Freddie bit her lip. “No, I guess I didn’t know.” You seemed to leave so easily.

  “Well.” He looked back up at the lions. “Now you do.” Punctuating the declaration with a squeeze of her hand, he tugged her further down the street, turning down 40th Street to walk by Bryant Park. Lights still twinkled there, and people still moved around among the trees. “New York is just really fucking special, you know?”