by Anna Zabo
“Anything.”
A chuckle. “Tell Lydia I want her to use the cuffs on you.” His grin was wicked as he let me go. “Good night, Simon.”
When I’d caught my breath, I murmured, “Good night,” and somehow managed to get out of the car and not trip over my own feet on the way to the front porch. My blood burned so hot, it was a wonder I didn’t light the way up the path.
Ian pulled away and drove off into the night, the bastard. God, I think I’m falling in love. Hell, I knew I was.
Terrifying. Astounding.
When I got inside, I must have looked eight different kinds of turned on, because Lydia stared at me from the kitchen doorway.
“Um.” I put my wallet and keys on the entry table. “Ian told me he wants you to use the cuffs. On me.” It had been years since I’d been nervous in front of Lydia, but tonight I was, and out came my dorky giggle.
“Well,” she said, her smile as deviant as Ian’s, “I suppose we shouldn’t disappoint him.” She stepped forward, took my hand and drew me upstairs.
Yeah. I was totally in love. With both of them.
The bad thing about my career in television was that sometimes meetings happened at the ass-crack of dawn. I rubbed my face and took a swig of the coffee I’d gotten from the catering trailer. Ugh. They tried, but food service drip into a huge vat wasn’t a decent cup. Pretty sure the stars got better coffee, but us crew? Na.
Still, it had enough caffeine to get my sluggish brain moving and take the edge off the fact that I was here and not in bed with Simon.
I hoped he’d enjoyed last night. One of us should’ve. I’d beaten off to the thought of him tied up, helpless, and loving it, but the orgasm had left me oddly unfulfilled. I wanted Simon in the flesh, needed his voice and sighs. Hell, I’d have been happy sleeping next to him, but I knew myself better than that. There’d have been no sleeping if I’d stayed with Si or taken him home. So, a night alone and a morning of crappy coffee for me.
Several of us from production were milling around outside Anna’s trailer. We were early, which was fine. Better that than late. I took another swallow of joe and missed my daily dose of Stomping Grounds. Town was out of the way from my place to the studio lot, so I hadn’t bothered. Besides, Stomping Grounds opened at six. Not even they got up for a five-thirty meeting.
As much as I tried not to let my thoughts turn toward the Derrys, I found myself mulling over Lydia’s smile and how she’d assured me that I hadn’t blown apart their normal life. I liked her. Really liked her. Had the suspicion that if I’d been attracted to women at all, I’d feel what Simon undoubtedly felt for her. I supposed that was why I’d suggested Simon tell Lydia to use the cuffs. He’d given so much to me, and she’d let him, I’d wanted to give her something back too. I didn’t know if it had worked, and I didn’t want to know the details of their kinky escapades.
When I thought about Simon, everything was crystal clear. But when I thought about Simon and Lydia, my emotions got murky. Their marriage, despite being open, made me stumble. Lydia was his wife. What was I to Simon? I was so damn confused as to how things were supposed to work between all of us.
Anna appeared in a whirlwind—well, not really—but it felt like it. One minute, we were all sipping coffee and moving like slugs, and the next, she was breezing across the lot to her trailer and talking, and we were listening and following and scribbling notes as we piled in after her. She started in on the shooting plan for Wednesday. Day shots, night shots. Extras. Wrangling. Somewhere along the line, she spotted me.
“Ian, please tell me that set of yours is finished, because we need to get pyrotechnics on it.”
“It’s finished.” Man, the relief that crossed Anna’s face. I breathed out and my muscles unclenched. “Should be on set today. I just need to pick it up and bring it over.”
“You’re a miracle worker.”
I’d actually managed to impress Anna Maxwell. Who’d have thought? But I couldn’t take all the credit. “Well, I did have help,” I said. “And I’ll need a pass for him, since we’re going to use his SUV to get it here.”
Anna waved the concern away. “I’ll talk to security after this.”
My part done, the meeting swirled around me and then was over. But before I could escape, Anna called my name. “A minute, please.”
Shit. She always made me so anxious. “Yeah?”
When everyone had filed out, she turned her laser-sharp focus on me. “I’m very impressed with how you handled this situation, and your innovation in finding a solution to your supply problem.”
I swallowed. “Thanks. I knew you needed it fast.” Hell, with help, I hadn’t gotten myself into too much of a panic. “Though, what saved my ass was having an extra set of hands. If Simon—the store owner—hadn’t been a model and miniature painter, I’m not sure I would’ve finished it in time.”
She studied me. “Are you trying to tell me you’d like an assistant in your shop?”
The woman was psychic. “Yeah. I mean, I know the budget—”
“I know the budget, and yes, we can afford it.” Her gaze changed, softened, and my cheeks heated. “I don’t suppose your shop owner would be available?”
Wow. What? Simon? I stumbled over my answer. “I—I don’t know. He owns End o’ Earth. I don’t think he could up and drop it.” And as much as I loved working beside Simon, I wasn’t sure I wanted him as my assistant, especially if we kept this—whatever it was—up. “I can ask, but—”
She nodded, and stood straighter, her business posture back. “Let me call over to security to get him a pass for the day.”
I rattled off the information they needed, at least as much as I knew, and scurried out of Anna’s office once she dismissed me. It was too early to go over to End o’ Earth, so I headed to the prop department and my shop. Hadn’t been there in nearly a week and it felt weird to walk in. As if I’d taken a long vacation. There were a few boxes piled inside the door—the supplies I’d ordered. A note from Toby, one of the prop guys, said they’d arrived yesterday—far too late to help with the sacred altar set.
If nothing else, I could pass some time putting the supplies away and getting my shop ready for the next set. I fired up my laptop and poured over the shooting, prop, and set production schedules. It was about nine when I finished, and now I had a good grasp for what was on my plate for the next few weeks. Nothing major, though they wanted a flashback scene on one of the streets in town. That was fairly easy to do with some fancy camera angles and vintage car models. I might have the ones we needed here.
If not, I had an inkling of where I could find a few.
Couldn’t help whistling as I left the shop and sauntered back to my car. I even gave Anderson a wave when I saw him. Hell, if he hadn’t fallen on my set, I’d have never set foot in End o’ Earth. Now it was going to be hard to keep out of that shop.
End o’ Earth didn’t open until ten, so as normal, I slipped around and rang the delivery bell. And, as normal, Lydia opened the door, all smiles and charm and light. “Hey! Meeting over?”
I entered, and followed her to her studio. “Has been for a while. But I doubted you guys would be here at seven, so I got some work done in my shop.”
She laughed. “Unlike Si, I’m an early riser, but I was still munching on toast around then.”
So domestic. I guess when you have a house and a kitchen and a partner . . . I shook the thought away. Wasn’t going to happen. “I’m gonna check on the model. I need to measure it to see if we can get it out of here.”
“Oh shit. I hadn’t thought of that!”
“Didn’t cross my mind, either. I have a garage door on the shop.”
Lydia followed me out to the model and I pulled a tape measure from my tackle box. We measured, then measured again, then checked both doors. I breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed the back of my neck. We’d have to tip the set ninety degrees, but it would make it through either door.
“Si said he’d drive me over
in the SUV, ’cause this isn’t fitting in the Mini.”
“Yeah, he mentioned he’d need the car.” She bumped me with her hip. “I’m a little jealous he’s gonna get to go to the lot. I’ve been on the tourist tour, but . . .”
Wasn’t the same. “I’m sure I can get you a pass.” She’d saved our bacon, after all.
Red appeared on her cheeks. “No, it’s okay. Someone needs to mind the store.” She gave a helpless shrug. “Besides I’d be too embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?”
She took a breath. “Some of the fan art I draw—it’s not exactly safe for work. I guess I feel bad about it. Sometimes.”
Because the main actors lived here, in town. And were married to each other. “No one’s gonna hold that against you. I mean, Hunter Easton and Kevyan Montanari live here too, and they write the stuff.”
“Yeah, but they don’t write them boffing.”
I wasn’t too sure about that, but I bit my tongue. “I get it, though.”
As I dropped the tape measure into my tackle box, Simon came into the shop. “Hey! I didn’t expect you until later.”
And I didn’t expect the kiss he gave me, sweet and sensual, right in front of Lydia. My pulse beat in my ears and my heart flipped in my chest. God, I couldn’t get enough of him.
But a kiss was all we had, because a moment later, Jesse rang the bell on the back door, and the work day started.
Once the shop was ready for the day, and with a little help from Lydia and Jesse, Simon and I maneuvered the model behind the counter, down the hall, and out the back. It fit nicely in the SUV. I dusted my hands off on my pants. “I should pay you for the stuff I used.”
Simon shrugged. “Na. Think of it as payment for teaching me about Hollywood model set production.” His smile dropped away. “And for making some of my dreams come true.”
Were his dreams about us or working on the set? “You know, Anna asked if we could hire you.”
Simon laughed as if I’d told a joke. “Right.”
“I mean it. She did.”
His humor fled into something serious. “I have a job.” He peered toward the register and the back office. “This is a dream come true, too.”
Now I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the shop or Lydia. Both, maybe.
“Regardless, I should pay you for the supplies. It’s for studio bookkeeping, and all that.”
He twisted his face, but in the end, I had an itemized list of what I’d used, and the pricing. “Besides,” I said. “You’ll get this nifty check from the studio.”
That brightened him up. “Really?”
I had to laugh, mostly because I still had the stub from the first check I’d gotten from a studio framed on my wall. “Really.”
After all my supplies had been packed into my car, we got into his and headed to the studio lot. I let him drive, since I’d been driving my Mini too long to make the switch from little and nimble to large and lumbering. I’d probably take a side mirror off this behemoth if I were behind the wheel. He drove carefully, which I appreciated, since there was no time to repair the model.
The guard at the gate recognized me and with Simon on the books, Simon got his bright shiny temporary visitor tag, and the car got another. I directed him around the lot to my shop and had him park in my spot. When he turned off the car, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
“What’s up?”
Simon’s self-deprecating laugh was followed by a shy smile. “I can’t believe I’m here, that’s all. Like— Wolf’s Landing. And not the tourist tour.”
Yup. Smitten. Hell, same thing had happened to me the first couple of times, and—like the other day—the amazement lingered. “Come on. Help me move the set into the trailer and then I’ll give you a non-tourist tour.”
We maneuvered the set inside. It had survived the trip fine and didn’t need any touch-ups, thank God. “I should let Anna know it’s here.” I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text, since I wasn’t sure if she was filming right now.
A second later my phone rang.
“Where are you? Where is it?” Anna’s voice was brisk and the sounds of gravel crunching meant she was on the move.
“In my shop. We just got here.”
“I’m on my way,” she said, then the call ended.
I stared at my phone. “Change of plans. Anna’s on her way to see the set.”
“The director of Wolf’s Landing?” Simon’s voice squeaked at the end of that.
Poor guy. Starstruck already, and he hadn’t seen any of the stars. “Pretty sure that’s the name of the show, yeah.”
He exhaled. “I’m being horrible.”
“You’re being cute.” I waved his stricken look away. “It’s all right. Everyone who isn’t an actor goes through the same thing. And some of the actors do, as well.”
He had a dubious expression, but that vanished into shock when the door banged open and Anna marched in.
She stopped in front of the grove and breathed out an audible sigh of relief. “Now, that’s an impressive week’s worth of work.”
Hearing that was a booster shot straight to my pride. “Thanks.”
Anna bent down and examined the set from a different angle. “I dare say, this is better than your original.” She stood and turned to me. “Especially considering the issue with the altar.”
Guess that was a silver lining in the whole stuntman crash—we caught an error that the fans would have roasted us over. “I had excellent help.” I gestured to Simon, who stood gaping at Anna.
He had the wherewithal to close his mouth before she turned to him.
“Anna Maxwell.” She held out her hand, and Simon took it. “Thank you for supporting Ian. I suspect becoming a workshop wasn’t what you envisioned when you opened your store.”
“Simon Derry.” And wow, all hint that Simon had been a nervous wreck had vanished. “I was grateful to be able to lend a hand.” There. Color touched his cheeks. Not much, but a little. “Bit of a dream to work on a real set.”
She nodded, and examined the grove again. “It’s almost a shame we’re going to blow it up and burn it down.”
Simon blanched. I’d never told him the final fate of all our hard work. I gave a light shrug. “Better than the forest.”
“Especially since the EPA would close us down if we tried that.” She turned to Simon. “Would you like to watch the shoot, since you helped make it happen?”
There was the kid in the candy store vibe. “Um. Yes? I mean—” He took a breath. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow night.” Anna’s phone buzzed and she whipped it out. “Yes? Oh hell, I’m on my way.” She headed for the door, still talking into the phone, but paused for a moment. “Ian can fill you in on the filming.” Then she was gone.
Simon blinked a few times. “Wow. She was nothing and everything like I thought she’d be.”
Pretty much. I scratched the back of my head. “Can you come tomorrow night? They’re filming at eight.”
Simon nodded slowly. “It’s comic book day tomorrow, but that only means an early morning. Evening should be fine. I’ll double check with Lydia.”
While I didn’t want to suggest it, I felt I had to. “She can come as well, you know.” I was almost certain Anna wouldn’t object, given that Lydia had been the one to uncover the altar snafu. But this had been mostly mine and Simon’s project. I wanted to keep it to ourselves.
Something in Simon’s rueful expression told me he’d heard the hesitation in my voice. “I’ll ask, but I suspect she’ll want to stay at the shop.”
Good. I liked Lydia a ton, and I was grateful she was sharing Simon, but this was ours. Mine and his. I wanted to have this memory once I couldn’t have Simon anymore. Since we were alone, I took his hand and pulled him to me. “How about that tour?” Before he could answer, I claimed his mouth and breath and his lovely moan.
Such sweet surrender every time I kissed him. When I relented, his smil
e lit his face. “Sure,” he said. “I’d love a tour.”
That could wait a little bit. We had enough time for me to take those lips again, feel his heat against me, and his dick press against my own. We were both pretty hot and bothered when he murmured against my lips, “If this is a way to make me less nervous, you’re doing a good job.”
I laughed. It hadn’t been. “I can’t get enough of you, that’s all. But if it worked . . .”
A grunt. “Well, now I’m turned on.”
We didn’t exactly have a no-sex-at-work rule. It was a keep-it-discreet rule. Still, going down on Simon here, right now seemed a bad plan, so I stepped back. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” His grin was sly. “But maybe save it until later?”
Yeah, he was right, though something about the conversation after Anna had left niggled my brain. I ushered Simon outside, and started down the path to one of the main outdoor sets. It was a recreation of part of Main Street—or rather our version of Main Street. No one was filming there right now. As we got closer, Simon muttered, “Holy shit. It looks exactly like it does on TV.”
Well, at least from the front. “Let me show you inside one of the houses.” We walked in and that’s where you could see it wasn’t real. Oh, there was furniture and some of the walls were decorated, but above, there was no ceiling, despite the steps that led up—only a walkway and racks of lights. Other areas were bare bones, since those angles would never be filmed. I explained it all to Simon, and he took it in. Up and down. Everywhere.
“Can I . . . touch . . . the couch?”
“I don’t see any harm in that. Just don’t move it.”
His splendid fingers brushed over the fabric. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“There’s more to see.” I took him around to one of the sound stages, but the light was on. “They’re filming, so we can’t go in.”
“I didn’t think they did tours on Wednesdays,” a voice behind us said. We both turned and Simon went sheet white.
Carter Samuels stood there, holding a cup of coffee that definitely hadn’t come from the crew service van. In costume and everything.
