“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t even think.”
Jac wrapped her hand around Sasha’s, pulled the fork from her mouth, and swallowed. “Don’t be, you’re right. That was delicious. Would you like to try some of the veal?” She pointed to her own plate, trying to inject some normalcy between them again and ignoring the way the muscles in her abdomen had clenched at the erotically charged moment. Jac scooped up a generous forkful from her plate and held it as though she was going to feed it to Sasha.
“No, thank you. I’m sorry, but I don’t eat veal.”
Jac put the fork on her plate. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
Sasha waved a hand in front of her. “No, no, it’s just a personal thing. I’ve thought many times about becoming a veggie, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it. But there are some things I just can’t bring myself to put in my mouth.” She swallowed and looked at Jac with a sheepish expression. “My foot, however, I manage to insert quite regularly.”
Jac chuckled. “I’m sure that’s not true.” She waved the waiter over, intent on getting him to take away the plate. “Hi, can you swap this for another of the lamb, please?” she asked when he arrived at their table. She lifted her napkin from her lap and dabbed at her mouth.
“Certainly.” He turned to Sasha. “Would you like me to get you a fresh plate at the same time?”
“No!” Sasha looked stunned and pointed to the plate in his hand. “Put that back down.” She looked at Jac. “Sending it back is just wasteful. I don’t have an issue with you eating it. What good would it do to waste the food now?”
Jac cocked her head to the side but motioned for the waiter to put the plate back down and leave them alone again. Fabulous. Now she thinks you’re wasteful as well as callous.
“I’m sorry,” Sasha said. “See what I mean about this foot-in-mouth disease I have?” She exhaled heavily and leant back in her chair. “Sorry for ruining our lunch.”
“You haven’t.” I seem to be doing a great job of that myself today.
“But—”
“Truly.” Jac smiled and hoped it conveyed her genuine happiness at meeting Sasha, despite the awkward moments that had just passed. “I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed myself quite so much meeting someone new.” She lifted her fork and grinned at Sasha. “It’s certainly a lunch I’ll never forget. Now finish your lamb while I tuck in over here. We’ve got a lot of things to discuss this afternoon.”
Like the next time I can see you, for a start.
The offices of Kefran Media were sleek, modern, and clean. And situated in Quay House, the home to MediaCity and the heart of all things TV in Manchester. All smooth lines, glass tabletops, and tablets stuck to people’s hands. Sasha found herself a little disappointed. She’d almost wanted to see lots of old books and piles of scripts on the edges of every desk, with their corners yellowed and curling with age. Instead, she was greeted by a perky receptionist whose teeth were amazingly white when she beamed and offered to get them coffee. Jac agreed for them both and directed her to bring it to the conference room.
Jac had no sooner ushered Sasha into a chair near the head of the room when a blonde stuck her head around the door, smiled, then walked in with her hand extended.
“Hi, I’m Sophie Angel. One of Jac’s business partners.”
Sasha stood and took her hand. “Sasha Adams.”
“I know. Love your screenplay. I can’t wait to see it on screen.”
Sasha grinned back at her. Sophie’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Me too.”
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
“Already on the way,” Jac said from her seat at the end of the conference table.
“Great, then I’ll leave you two to chat,” Sophie said and backed out of the door. “I’ll catch up with you before you go, but I have a conference call in two minutes regarding the financing of the project. Mags is in there with me,” she told Jac.
“Perfect. See you in a bit.” A different woman entered with a tray of coffee, milk, and sugar and set it on the table with a huge smile for Jac. “Thanks,” Jac said, her gaze not drifting from Sasha. “So where would you like to start?” she asked when the door closed behind the young woman.
“Can we start with the changes you’d like to make to the screenplay?”
“Sure.” Jac stood and placed a hand on Sasha’s shoulder as she walked behind her chair. “Let me just go grab my copy and I’ll show you. Won’t be a second.” She pointed to the tray. “Why don’t you pour while I run to my office?” Then she was gone.
And Sasha’s shoulder burned from the gentle pressure of Jac’s hand. Her scent lingered in the air. The earthy aroma of sandalwood and the spicy perfume of cinnamon clung to the fabric of her jacket. It made her tongue tingle with the desire to taste those flavours on Jac’s skin.
Wow, okay there, Sash, that was…unexpected. She fanned her face, then reached out with shaking hands to pour two cups of dark, richly scented coffee. She added a little milk to her own and sipped gingerly while she waited and tried to ignore the way Jac affected her, what with her tall, lean body beneath the expensive business suit and the lilac tie. Her silver-grey hair, cropped close to the head on the left and worn almost to shoulder length across the centre and right-hand side gave her the air of both experience and having not lost her edge. Plump, full lips smiled at her and Sasha stared up into the most arresting eyes she had ever seen. Grey like the gathering storm clouds overhead, flecked with hints of blue and green around the irises. God, I could get lost in those eyes.
She turned her head slightly when she heard the door open behind her, but Jac’s hand was on her shoulder again as she dropped a sheaf of pages onto the table in front of her. She couldn’t focus on the pages as that scent filled her nostrils again.
Jac slid into her own chair and reached for her coffee cup. She sipped the un-doctored brew. “Just the way I like it.”
Sasha filed that tidbit away for future reference, swallowed hard, and forced herself to pick up the bound pages of her screenplay. Marks had been made in the margins in red pen. Not many, but enough to get her thinking about the story and take her mind off Jac.
Slowly, she began to relax, and talking to Jac about the project became easier. She found she could see exactly where Jac was trying to direct the characters to grow, and how she could push them even further.
“I can make these changes, Jac, but if I do, I see further potential to develop them. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Will it add any further scenes?”
“No.”
“Any car chases?” She tapped her fingers against her cup in a descending pattern, index to pinkie, one after the other. It was almost hypnotic. But it was her grin that truly captivated Sasha. The mischief and warmth was even more intoxicating than those eyes.
Sasha laughed and shook her head. “No, and no new characters either. Just a touch more dialogue here and there.”
“Then I look forward to reading what you suggest.” Jac’s smile was warm and genuine and it made Sasha’s stomach flip.
“When do you need the changes?”
“As soon as you can, really. Dock 10 has a window of time open in the studio in about two months time. We can get the bulk of recording done then, and then shoot the location scenes at the end. If you can get me the changes in the next week or two, then I can get casting on it, then get the cast learning their lines.”
“A couple of months?”
“Yes.” Jac touched Sasha’s hand. “I also wanted to talk to you about that. I usually have the writer on set while filming so we can make any changes required as we go. Sometimes what we see on the page just doesn’t come across on screen and we need to tweak things. I think we’re pretty much on the same page, and that you and I will work well together on this project. Am I right?”
S
asha nodded, not sure where Jac was leading with this.
“So I’d need you on set while we’re filming. You’d watch it all with me and make those changes as needed. Would that be okay?”
“Wow, I… Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”
Jac grinned. “I’m sorry to have blindsided you, then, but it’s a really important part of the process, and trying to do that from a distance just doesn’t work for me.”
“How long will filming take?”
“If we manage to stay on schedule, then it should take around five or six weeks.”
Six weeks? So many questions flew through Sasha’s mind that she was unable to grasp a hold of any one of them.
Jac carried on. “The money isn’t great, I know that, but it’s pretty decent for a first-time screenplay.” She pushed a piece of paper towards Sasha, and Sasha felt like she was floating away from her body, watching the scene in slow motion.
Not great? It was more than Sasha made in a year…make that two. But what about her job? With two years’ salary coming to her in one clump, did she care? Nope. Not a damn bit.
“There can be long hours. Some days we might start at eight, earlier if there’s a reason to, and it might be midnight before we wrap for the day.”
Mum. Yes, she’d told Sasha to get her arse in gear that morning and not come back until she had this all sewn up. But that didn’t mean Sasha could effectively leave her mum to fend for herself for six weeks while she worked those kinds of hours!
“I need to—” Sasha bit off what she was about to say. She didn’t need to talk to her mum. Fleur had been clear. Crystal clear. She wanted Sasha to jump on this opportunity. She wanted her to grab it with both hands and run. Fleur had told her as much on Sunday evening. She’d pretty much told her the same thing this morning when Sasha had been walking out the door. Her mother wasn’t a child, and as much as Sasha felt wrong about leaving Fleur to it, she was capable of looking after herself. It wasn’t Sasha’s place to mother her. Fleur had made it brutally clear that she didn’t want that. So why was she even thinking about putting Jac on hold? Why was she even contemplating holding back on this?
Jac’s smile seemed to fade a little, and her fingers stopped their drumming. She clearly sensed Sasha’s indecision. She offered, “If it helps you make a decision, I’d really like to look at other stuff you’ve written, Sasha. I’d like to work with you on other projects, if this is anything to go by, and given how productive our discussion today has been, I think we’ll work really well together.” Jac’s expression was open, candid, and sincere, and Sasha couldn’t help but smile back.
“Really?”
“Oh God, yes.”
Sasha looked down at the script in her hands. Sasha Adams, scriptwriter. It had a ring to it. Sasha Adams, writer. She liked that.
Nightingale, a film by Sasha Adams. She rolled it around in her mind. I really like that.
She licked her lips, tugged the bottom one between her teeth as she rolled the phrase around in her head once more. Sasha Adams, writer.
She held out her hand to Jac, lifted her head, and steadily met Jac’s gaze. “Let’s do this.”
Jac’s grin was huge—like cheek-cracking huge—as she pumped Sasha’s hand up and down over and over. She was talking, babbling about things Sasha couldn’t hear over her internal voice shouting and whooping at her while dancing around the disco Sasha’s head had turned into.
I’m doing this. I’m really doing this.
Chapter 7
The bus ride home was uneventful, and Sasha sat staring unseeingly out of the window, the day’s events running through her mind even as she tried to make notes of all that had happened and every word Jac had said.
The details of financing the project were intricate, and more than a few had gone over her head, but one thing was clear: Jac knew what she was doing. And Jac wanted her on the project, in just a couple of months.
Then there was the money. It wasn’t going to make her a lady of leisure for the rest of her life, but still. It was more than a little surreal.
Sasha’s head was buzzing, and every vibration drew her back to thoughts of Jac, and that cocky, sexy haircut that made Sasha’s fingers itch to explore. She wanted to run them across those shorn locks before twisting into the longer tresses that hung enticingly over her right ear. The long glances and accidental brushes of Jac’s hand against her own as she’d pointed things out to her throughout the course of the afternoon had left Sasha longing for…more. A lot more. As had Jac’s quick wit, her cheeky grin, and the intelligence that had shone through those piercing grey eyes.
Heat burnt Sasha’s cheeks, and she placed her cool hand against her burning skin. It had been a long, long time since she’d reacted so strongly to another woman. And never so quickly. Was that why the passion hadn’t lasted with her previous partners? Because they’d all been friends before they’d become anything more? Sure, she’d respected them, loved them, even. But had she truly lusted for either Claire or Pam? With either of them, when had she’d stared out of window and wondered what they were doing right then, or tried to find the exact right word to describe the colour of their eyes? When had she ever tried to label the notes of their perfumes?
“I feel like a teenager with a crush,” she mouthed and watched her light puff of breath fog on the glass. “And in a couple of months, I’ll be working with her every day.” She let her head fall onto the cold glass.
When she finally got home, she was more than a little worried to see her mother stumbling through the house as Nip wound herself around Fleur’s legs and her crutch. By this time, she was normally asleep after spending the evening in the conservatory getting stoned. She looked unsteady.
“Mum? Are you okay?”
“Of course. I just woke up. Nip and I had a little nap on the couch.”
Sasha noted her mother’s glassy-eyed gaze and her direction of travel. She quickly wrapped her hand around her elbow, offering support to the bathroom.
After Fleur finished up and was settled back on the sofa, cuppa in hand, she said, “Chop-chop, then. Let’s hear all about it.”
Sasha sighed, sipped her brew, and then started to tell her mother everything. Well…except for how sexy Jac was and how big a crush she was currently fighting for the woman.
“So you’re going to be on the set? For the whole filming?” Fleur asked.
“I—I, well, I agreed to do it.”
Fleur beamed. “Excellent.”
Sasha didn’t say anything. It was excellent, but she was still concerned for Fleur. Was she really okay? The lines around her mother’s eyes seemed deeper lately. Every time she asked, Fleur merely said she was tired, or stoned. She probably was and Sasha was driving herself crazy for no reason. Fleur went to all her appointments, all her check-ups. Her mother didn’t seem to worry at all about her health, so why should Sasha?
“What’s this?” Fleur wiggled a finger in front of Sasha’s face. “It’s not excellent?”
Sasha shrugged one shoulder.
“I know that look. Tell me.”
“Part of me is still not sure I should do it.”
“Why ever not?”
Sasha sighed. “Jac said there would be a lot of long hours. I won’t be around to help you. I don’t want anything to happen to you while I’m at work.”
Fleur slapped her arm.
“Ow.”
“I’m a grown woman, and, more importantly, so are you. Don’t think I didn’t see that twinkle in your eye when you talked about this Jac woman. I might be stoned, but I’m not dead. Besides, something could happen just as easily while you’re at work now as it could if you were working on the film. You’re making excuses, and not even very good ones. I can cope on my own. So you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Mum—” Sasha started to tell Fleur she was winding her up, but Fleur was
just getting started.
“No. Enough. I’ll kick you out if I have to. You need to follow your dreams, Sasha. I’m not always going to be here—”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth, honey. We both know that. I’m not saying I’m going anywhere right this second, but I’m seventy-five years old. I’m almost an old woman, and I can be honest, some days I’m even starting to feel a little over sixty.” She sniggered, and Sasha couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “I’ve got a lot of good years under my belt, as well as a few tough ones. I’ve seen as much of the world as I want to see. I’ve raised a wonderful daughter, and there is truly only one thing left I want before I can go and see your father again.”
Tears welled in Sasha’s eyes. “What?”
“To see you happy.” She squeezed Sasha’s knee. “That’s all I want now.”
Sasha sniffed and took the handkerchief Fleur held out for her.
“I only ever loved your father, and God could that man drive me bloody potty sometimes. But I loved him with everything that was in me, and he loved me the same. We completed each other. I want that for you, Sasha. I want to know you’re taken care of before…well, you know.”
“Do we have to be so morbid?”
“Not at all. As long as you agree to do this. Besides, Bobbi was telling me about this website thingy called Tinder, and I think I might find myself a new chappie on there. Having you at home so much would put a crimp in my style.”
“Oh God, don’t even joke about it.”
“What? I can catch me a fella if I want one.”
“I meant about you going on Tinder.”
“Why?”
“You’d need a smartphone to access the app.”
“Why do I have to get a smartphone? I’d rather just have a normal one. I don’t need all those gizmos and wotsits.”
“And this is why it’s not a good idea.”
Lost for Words Page 7
