Love in the Afternoon

by Alison Packard

  Lisa’s comment got him thinking about his upcoming scenes. He’d been in the business long enough to know that if he and an actress on the show started doing photo shoots together the producer and head writer were contemplating pairing them up. The scenes could be a chemistry test after which the producer’s staff would monitor the show’s comment line to see what the fan reaction was.

  Soap fans were nothing if not vocal. And while the show’s producers didn’t always listen to what the fans wanted, they knew the main draw of soaps was romance. Now that his character was a widower, it seemed like they were barely letting the guy mourn before having him embark on a new relationship.

  Flipping through his script for the next day’s taping, he didn’t see any scenes between Jared and Shay. The same for Wednesday. He was off on Thursday, so the third script was for Friday. He turned the pages and read that he had two scenes with Kayla. So it was true. He was going to be stuck with a damn newbie. And one who more than likely had been hired because of her looks rather than her talent. At least Nikki could act. As for Kayla Maxwell, he’d been in a couple of scenes with her and since their characters didn’t have any interaction, he couldn’t remember anything particularly outstanding about her performance.

  “This is bullshit,” he said after reading the lines. He tossed the scripts on the table. Although he didn’t have storyline approval in his contract, he was damn well going to make sure Jared Madison didn’t do anything out of character. It was time for a little chat with the head writer.

  * * *

  Sitting at the table in her cozy yellow and white kitchen, Kayla ate the last bite of her chicken enchilada and watched the local news.

  Eying the scripts on the end of the table, she pushed her plate aside and grabbed them and her yellow highlighter. She flipped open the top page, pulled the cap off the highlighter, and began marking the sections of dialogue she needed to memorize for tomorrow’s taping.

  She’d just finished marking the last page when her cell phone’s musical ringtone blared. Picking it up, Kayla smiled when she saw the familiar number. “Hi, Mom,” she said, replacing the cap on the highlighter.

  “Hi, honey,” Patricia Maxwell replied warmly. “How was your week?”

  Kayla rose from her chair and moved into the living room. “It was good,” she said, sinking onto the plump cushions of her overstuffed chair. “Busy.” She curled her legs to the side and got comfortable. “How was yours?”

  “Hectic.” Patricia sighed. “I think it’s time to retire.”

  “Mom, you’d go crazy if you were home all day. I think you should stick to the plan and retire when Dad does.”

  “Speaking of your dad, he wants to know how the car is.”

  “The car?” she asked with mock indignation. “What about me?” Kayla laughed and then continued, “Tell him the Mustang is fine. I took her in for an oil change last week. They checked everything, including the air pressure in the tires.”

  “He’ll be happy to hear that. You know your father and cars.”

  “Is Dad home?” Kayla asked.

  “No. He went to look at a ’69 Corvette he’s got his eye on. Another restoration.” Patricia switched gears, moving on to her favorite subject. “I read the spoilers for next week and it sounds like Shay is starting to see that Stefan isn’t over Cassie.”

  Looping a lock of hair over her ear, Kayla couldn’t help but smile. Her mom was a huge fan of the show and, every day, drove home from the doctor’s office where she worked to watch it while she ate her lunch.

  “Are you still going on those online message boards?”

  “Oh no. I stay away from those. Some of those people are vicious. I can understand them not liking your character, but to blame you personally for what the writers write is just plain ridiculous. They’re crazy.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Kayla muttered.

  “What really bothers me is when they criticize your acting ability. You’re a wonderful actress.”

  “You have to say that. You’re my mom.”

  “I’m saying it because it’s true.” There was a long silence before her mom continued, “You never used to doubt yourself, Kayla.

  Tears pricked Kayla’s eyes. That was true. There was a time when she’d believed in herself and her talent. “It’s a tough business, Mom. It can wear you down.”

  “I know what wore you down and it wasn’t Hollywood.”

  “Let’s not talk about Greg,” Kayla said, hearing the hostility in her mom’s voice. “I’m done with him. I haven’t seen him in months. He’s out of my life.”

  “Praise the Lord for that,” Patricia said vehemently. “That man was never good enough for you. And I want you to remember this—you have more talent in your little finger than he has in his whole body.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Don’t mention it. That’s what moms are for.”

  “I have some good news,” Kayla said, putting her ex out of her mind. “I’m going to be on the cover of Soap Opera Journal.”

  “What?” Patricia exclaimed so loudly that Kayla winced and had to pull the phone from her ear for a second. “Oh my God, honey. That’s wonderful.”

  “The photo shoot is on Thursday.”

  “Is it you and Marcus Bertrand?”

  “Yes. And Sean Barrett,” Kayla said. That, she knew, would send her mother into a tizzy.

  “Sean Barrett.” Patricia sighed dreamily. “Is he as good looking in person as he is on television?”

  Kayla imagined Sean’s sandy blond hair and muscular body and felt a fluttering in her stomach. “Yes.” Sean Barrett was hotter than hell. Television didn’t do him justice.

  “Does this mean you’re going to be working with him on the show?”

  “I’m not sure, Mom.”

  “Jared just lost his wife,” Patricia mused. “Maybe Shay is going to be his next love interest.”

  “I doubt it.” Kayla frowned. She didn’t want to tell her mom what she’d read in Friday’s script. She had a couple of scenes with Sean, but after reading the dialogue it was obvious she wasn’t going to be his love interest. In fact, if the writers were going where she thought they were, she wouldn’t be anyone’s love interest for a good long while.

  Chapter Two

  Jared: It can’t be that bad.

  Shay: Yes, it can. I’m pregnant.

  On Thursday morning, Kayla sat in the make-up chair while Sandy, one of A New Dawn’s make-up artists, applied mauve eye shadow with easy strokes. Sparing a quick glance across the hall to the photography studio, she tried to squelch the butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach but wasn’t having much luck. She’d woken up uncharacteristically nervous, and even her daily run hadn’t put her back on an even keel.

  “I know I say this all the time, but you have the most amazing eyes,” Sandy said as she stepped back and admired her handiwork. “I hope the camera picks up the gold flecks.” Sandy tilted Kayla’s head and surveyed her with a critical eye. “Sometimes brown eyes can look flat in still photos, but Leo knows a few tricks to make them pop without making you look like an alien.”

  Kayla smiled. “That’s good. I’m sure my mom is going to give copies of the magazine to all of our family and friends so I’d rather not look like something from outer space.”

  Sandy laughed, returning the eye shadow case to her make-up kit. “You’re going to look gorgeous. With those eyes and that bone structure I’m surprised you’re not a model.”

  “I’m not tall enough. And there’s a little too much junk in the trunk. If you know what I mean,” Kayla said with a grin. “Besides, it sounds as boring as hell.”

  “It can be tedious, but I love transforming the models. When I was a little girl I used to beg my mom to let me put make-up on her. I guess I knew what I wanted to be at a young age.” She smiled. “Okay, we’re done. I’ll go get Lance so he can finish your hair.”

  After Sandy left the room, Kayla could still feel the butterflies knoc
king around inside of her stomach. It’d been a long time since she’d felt this edgy. In fact, the last time she was this nervous was when she’d first come to Los Angeles and auditioned for a part in a Steven Spielberg movie. She’d been pretty green back then and to this day she was still mortified at how she couldn’t stop her body from trembling as she auditioned in front of the great director. The man was one of her film idols and she’d totally embarrassed herself by giving the worst audition of her career. He’d been very kind but, of course, she didn’t get the part. She didn’t blame him one bit. Her reading had been atrocious.

  And now here she was feeling just as nervous over a stupid photo shoot. Something she’d done countless times without a second thought.

  It was because of Sean Barrett. Kayla didn’t even bother to deny it. The man was an amazing specimen of masculine good looks. His blond hair, brilliant green eyes and killer smile embodied the California surfer look. Kayla could easily picture him on a surfboard, or on the beach surrounded by bikini-clad groupies who would do anything he asked just to be near him. What normal woman wouldn’t be nervous?

  “Hello again, my darling.” Lance, a stylist who owned a salon in West Hollywood, and her friend for ages, breezed into the room. He stood behind her chair and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Shall we take those curlers out and get you all dolled up?” He leaned down and lowered his voice. “Trust me. You’re going to want to look your best when you see the gorgeous hunk I just saw in the lobby.” Lance lifted a hand and fanned himself. “Good Golly, Miss Molly, I almost fainted dead on the spot.”

  Kayla smiled at his theatrics. “Every time I see you, you’re swooning over some man.”

  Lance began to pull the curlers from her hair and dropped them on a tray by the chair. His fingers stilled on a curler as he met her gaze in the mirror. “Darling, swooning over a man is one of life’s most enjoyable pastimes. You should try it.”

  Kayla rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’ve swooned, Lance. And trust me, it wasn’t worth it.”

  “One bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole bunch. Or is it bushel?” Lance asked with a tilt of his head. He removed the last curler and then picked up a brush. Frowning, he shook his head. “Never mind. Look, sweetie, I know dickhead—”

  “His name isn’t dickhead,” Kayla interrupted, although why she bothered was beyond her. Greg Alamo, her former boyfriend, didn’t deserve any kindness from her and was the reason she’d sworn off dating actors for good. And the last thing she needed was another man who was jealous and controlling. She’d had more than enough of that with Greg. It was nice not worry about everything she said or did. Even the most casual glance at another man would have Greg accusing her of cheating on him. But it was okay for him to leer at other women to his heart’s content. What a hypocrite.

  “He’s always been dickhead to me,” Lance shot back with a smirk. “As I was saying before I was…ahem…interrupted. Just because dickhead cheated on you doesn’t mean you should give up on love—or sex.” Holding the brush above her head, he smiled wickedly. “When was the last time you got laid?”

  “Now there’s a question you don’t hear every day.”

  Startled by the deep male voice, Kayla almost jumped out of her chair and Lance let out a girlish squeal as Sean Barrett sauntered into the room with his hands thrust into the pockets of his faded jeans. The collar of his white cotton shirt was open at the neck and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows revealing his tanned forearms. The man oozed raw sexuality almost effortlessly. She tried not to stare but, damn, he was hot.

  “Goodness gracious, clutch the pearls,” Lance whispered in awe, holding the hairbrush to his lean chest as he stared at Sean, mouth agape.

  With the grace of an athlete, Sean moved to the chair beside Kayla and lowered his muscular frame onto it. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said, meeting her stunned gaze in the mirror. He settled back in the chair. “I believe you were just asked a question.”

  Kayla felt her face warming. Swallowing hard, she couldn’t seem to speak.

  “If you have to think about it I guess it’s been awhile,” Sean drawled and then flashed a wicked grin.

  “Well, for me, it was Friday night,” Lance said, gathering his composure more quickly than Kayla was able to. “Turn your head, doll face.” He put his hand on her head to direct her attention back to the mirror. “And Saturday night,” he added with sly grin. “Let’s just say it was an excellent weekend.”

  “And they say actors have all the fun,” Sean replied with a smile, looking at Lance. “I’ve seen Kayla at the studio, but I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Sean Barrett.”

  “Lance Del Rey. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lance gushed, and somehow managed to infuse the word “pleasure” with extra meaning.

  Kayla rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t change your last name again?”

  Lance swung his gaze to her and nodded. “Girlfriend, St. James was way too pretentious.”

  “And Del Rey’s not?”

  Lance shrugged and started brushing out her hair. “Hey, if you were born with the last name Funkhauser you’d have a last name complex too.”

  Kayla looked at Sean and smiled. “I guess he’s got a point.” As Sean flashed a grin, she directed her attention back to Lance. “So, is Lance really your first name?” Lance averted his gaze and stared at a smudge on the mirror. “Oh, my God.” Kayla giggled. “It’s not, is it?” She glanced over at Sean who regarded them with amusement. He appeared relaxed and comfortable, his forearms resting on the arms of the chair. Kayla could see a fine coating of blond hair on his tanned skin and had to tamp down the sudden urge to reach over and touch him. “Spill it, Lance,” she ordered. But Lance continued to avoid her gaze. His brush strokes turned rough indicating she’d struck a nerve. “That bad, huh?”

  “No comment,” Lance said, and then pressed his lips together in grim line. “Suffice it to say that some of us weren’t given names like Kayla or Sean.” He gathered her hair in his hands. “Do you want it up or down?”

  “Down,” Sean said before Kayla could respond. Both she and Lance turned to look at him. “I’ve been doing this a while. You’ll look better on the cover if your hair is down.” His gaze locked with hers and a gush of feminine awareness flooded her body. She’d never met anyone with emerald green eyes before. Up close they were amazing—hypnotizing even.

  “I saw you in the grocery store,” Kayla began, not able to tear her eyes from his. Sean’s brows lifted. “On the cover of the current issue of Soap Opera Journal,” she clarified. “So I guess you know what you’re talking about.” Forcing her gaze back to the mirror, she looked up at Lance. “I’ll wear it down.”

  Sandy rushed into the room, “Sorry, Sean. Marcus is here and he’s been talking my ear off.”

  “Better you than me,” Sean said dryly.

  Sandy dropped her make-up kit on the counter and rummaged around in it before pulling out a bottle of foundation.

  “Sandy, is that your Mustang in the parking lot?” Sean asked. “I’ve seen it over at the studio a few times.”

  “No,” Sandy said as she abandoned the foundation for a jar of loose powder from her kit.

  “If you’re talking about the red Mustang, it’s mine,” Kayla said.

  “’67, right?”

  “’66.” She tried to turn her head to look at him but felt Lance’s fingers press into her scalp.

  “Don’t move,” Lance warned. “I’m creating magic here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kayla said, amused. She watched as he arranged her hair so it curled around her shoulders in soft waves.

  “V-6?” Sean asked.

  “V-8 with a 225 horsepower engine and a four-barrel carburetor. And the grille is the original free-floating pony emblem surrounded by horizontal grille bars.” Glancing sideways at him in the mirror she could see the surprise on his face and smiled sheepishly. “My dad is into classic cars. He restored the Mustang and gave it to me for gradua
tion. I think I know just about everything there is to know about ’66 Mustangs.”

  Was she babbling? Of course she was. Being so close to him unnerved her.

  “Automatic or stick?”

  “Stick, of course.”

  “I do like a vertical stick,” Lance chimed in. His eyes gleamed with mischief.

  Sandy turned and glared at him. “Lance, please. Not before lunch.” Shaking her head, she brushed some loose powder on Sean’s face. “I’ll just use a bit of mineral make up. With your skin tone you don’t need much else.”

  Kayla watched Sean covertly in the mirror. Even though they’d been on the set together a couple of times she’d never been this close to him. Now he was three feet away and she couldn’t seem to control her reaction to him. Yes, it had been awhile since she’d been with a man. But that was no excuse for the sexual energy humming through her body. Digging her fingers into the arms of her chair, she reminded herself she was a professional, and no matter how sexy Sean Barrett was, she would remain that way. Besides, he was an actor and there was no way in hell she was going down that road again.

  Sean smiled at something Sandy said and the sheer wattage of it sent a jolt of electricity straight to Kayla’s core. Okay, that was definitely not professional.

  * * *

  Standing several feet away from the brightly lit backdrop, Sean couldn’t take his eyes off Kayla Maxwell. She was posing with Marcus Bertrand while Leo, the photographer, gave them instructions.

  “Marcus, loosen your arms. You’re crushing the poor girl. Kayla, turn your head to the right just a smidge.”

  “Sorry, Leo,” Marcus said and relaxed the death grip he had on Kayla. Sean was sure no one else noticed the flicker of relief in Kayla’s eyes, but he caught it immediately. Marcus, as usual, was oblivious. “Is that better?”

  “Much,” Leo intoned. He leaned forward and put his eye to the camera sitting atop a tripod in front of him.

  “There isn’t a shadow on my cheek from my nose is there?” Marcus asked. “Maybe we should change positions. This really isn’t my good side.”