Beside me, the guys joked and whispered with each other and to Austin across me.
"All right," Cam said. "Austin is wounded." He rolled his eyes. "And he's attracted too much attention. He's out of the rotation. He'll be too obviously missed." He scowled. "What a pain to be seated right in front. We may have to adjust and only do one switch, just enough to rotate Jeremy in."
Dylan nodded. "Agreed."
Next to me, I could tell Austin's hand was hurting. He held it protectively in his lap.
"It's time to ice." I reached into my bag, pulled out an icepack, and handed it to him.
The auditorium filled quickly. A comedian came out to warm up the crowd.
Dylan elbowed Austin. "I thought you already warmed up the ladies."
Austin shook his head at him. Dylan laughed.
The comedian soon had us on our feet, singing, dancing, and laughing. And then it was time for the main event.
A perky, beautiful blond actress named Liz came onstage and set the ground rules. "Thank you all for coming today. We're thrilled to be here. This panel will be in a Q&A format. There is a mic at each of the two aisles in front of the stage. Anyone who would like to ask a question of Connor or Sam, please form a line behind the mics, and after a brief introduction, we'll try to get to as many of you as we can."
She pointed to the two overhead video screens. A game card filled with questions popped onto the screen. "One of our staffers made this. This card contains all the questions that you aren't allowed to ask Connor and Sam. They range from the silly to the obvious to the uh-oh, embarrassing! Sam and Connor won't answer them."
She pointed her finger at the crowd, teasingly, like we were naughty children. "And we reserve the right to have you thrown out of the auditorium." She laughed to soften the message. "And, also, I know many of you would like to know what's going to happen in season four. But Sam and Connor are bound by nondisclosure clauses in their contracts and can't discuss that, either. Anything else is fair game as long as it's not lewd, offensive, or threatening. And now, let's welcome our guests all the way from filming in Scotland—Connor Reid and Sam Roberts!"
The two stars came out waving. The crowd got on its feet and roared. I managed to stand without tripping on my skirts. Connor Reid, dressed in a modern-day kilt and leather jacket and looking scorching hot, was just feet in front of me. My corset felt too tight. Almost instinctively, I reached for Austin's hand.
At that same moment, Connor spotted the guys and gave them two thumbs up and winked as he pointed between Austin and me.
Charisma just dripped off Connor. It was so thick I could feel it. I was mesmerized by his presence. Animal magnetism. And Sam was dressed in skinny black jeans, a white button blouse, and black leather jacket. They were so cute dressed to match. Her star power was just as engaging and powerful as Connor's.
I sat in my seat, enthralled and in awe. How did people get that kind of charisma? Were they born with it? Or could they learn it the way I'd learned my professional physician's demeanor?
I envied actors, actually. As a physician, I had to harden my heart to the realities of death and disabilities or go crazy with the loss of my terminal patients. Harden to the unfairness of illness, cancer, birth defects, and on and on. Not get too attached. Which was practically impossible.
But actors could fully engage in a fantasy. Lose themselves in another world and personality. Become someone else in another place or time.
Liz calmed the audience, encouraging us to be seated. The questions began with Liz asking Connor and Sam the obvious things. Sam and Connor had the same beautiful chemistry with each other in person as they did onscreen. The kind it was impossible to fake.
It was obvious why they were dating. They were so clearly perfect for each other. News of their romance was all over the media and entertainment gossip sites. The thought of them being in love off screen made their onscreen romance all the more thrilling. As if we were watching true love play out. That the whole thing was more than a fantasy.
I was just like any other Jamie fan, imagining myself as Elinor with him. Imagining what it would be like to be Elinor and loved by a rugged Scottish Highland warrior. A man who was fierce, brave, loyal, protective, and witty. With a killer sense of humor and a strong sense of what was right.
My fantasies of Jamie had helped me get over the darkest days after my breakup with Nigel. But as far as the real world was concerned, I was glad Connor was with Sam in real life. They made the perfect couple. They were just so beautiful together, wisecracking and joking with each other. Humor was vital in any relationship. It made it possible to get through the tough times and the rough patches. A sense of humor was part of what was lacking between Nigel and me in the end. When you can no longer laugh with each other, what's left?
With all the sorrow and tragedy in the world, I had to be able to laugh with someone or go crazy.
Liz, effervescent and lively, presided over and directed the show. She opened the floor up to questions from the audience members waiting eagerly at the mics.
I had plenty of things I wanted to ask Connor and Sam. But I stayed in my seat. What did I have to ask that would be of interest to others?
A woman in her late forties leaned into the mic. She nearly tittered. Her voice wavered with awe and nerves as she gave her name and said where she was from, as requested by Liz. I thought for a minute the fan might actually giggle. That was what Connor's star power, in particular, did—reduced us all to teenagers in love with our idol.
That feeling of youth and innocence was what we craved. At least I did. It was as much an escape from reality as anything. I'd gladly be star-struck for a moment to get that giddy high. Adrenaline and endorphins provided a natural high that was incomparable. I forced myself to turn off my medical training that broke feelings down into chemical reactions in the brain.
"Connor, what's the hardest thing for you to do on set?" the woman said.
There was a lot of sex in Jamie. It was a cable show, so of course there was, just like in the books the show was based on. A lot of naked, very personal, powerful scenes. Everyone in the audience knew what she was asking while trying not to violate the rules.
"Learning his lines!" Sam answered for him.
The audience relaxed and laughed. That was the way it was between Sam and Connor—perfect.
The time flew by.
Almost before I knew it, Liz cut in. "We're sadly out of time. Sorry to all of you who didn't get to ask your questions. Post them on our blog or tweet them to us and we'll see if we can get them answered before Sam and Connor have to leave Seattle. In the meantime, Connor wanted to say a few last words."
"Well, first of all, thank you, Seattle!" His accent was delightful. And hot. "You've been a welcoming crowd and a hospitable city! Last night I was out drinking by myself. I tweeted about my lonely plight and soon found myself surrounded by beautiful women."
The crowd laughed and applauded.
"And in the process found a new drink—the kilt lifter," Connor said.
The crowd tittered.
"That's right. Kilt lifter—scotch, Drambuie, and lime, I'm told. Drambuie is just scotch and spices. So basically the drink is scotch and more scotch. Because nothing goes with scotch like more scotch. It's a drink tailor-made for a Highlander like me."
More laughter.
"I made a few mates while I was out. They hold their scotch pretty well. For Americans." He winked. "They're sitting in the front row today. How are you mates holding up? The hangovers get to you much?"
The guys held up their arms and flashed thumbs-ups.
"Good to know." Connor paused. He had perfect timing. "I found my twin, too." He nodded. "That's right. My twin. That person in the world who was born to a different mother but who looks just like me. Curious?"
The crowd roared.
"You'll want to see him for yourself, I imagine." Connor knew how to work a crowd.
The crowd cheered and egged him on.
"Austin, you're just going to have to come up here with me so the ladies can judge for themselves whether you really look like me or no'."
"Go!" I whispered in Austin's ear.
Jeremy, who'd slipped in for Cam, elbowed him. Dylan threatened to carry him on stage if he didn't get his ass up there.
Austin stood, slowly, grabbing my hand at the last instant, pulling me to my feet with him before I got my bearings enough to stop him.
Connor made an exaggerated expression of surprise. "Who is this lovely vision in red?" He laughed and looked me in the eye.
I was lucky my knees didn't buckle.
"You caught my eye from here, Southron," Connor continued. "That red dress is hard to miss. Especially on so bonny a woman." He turned to Sam. "What do you think? She looks a wee bit like you, no?"
Sam nodded. "She has the hair and the dress, certainly."
"And your bonny fair complexion, height, and dark hair. It appears my twin has found yours, Sam." He swung his gaze back to Austin. "Bring that beauty up here with you, Austin, so we can see for ourselves how much she and Sam look alike."
The next thing I knew, Austin was pulling me along with him up the stairs to the stage.
Connor met me at the top and offered me his hand up. That hand was warm and large. Powerful, but gentle in his grip. I really thought I might faint. I was a physician. The sight of blood didn't faze me. Now I was almost undone by the touch of a hand.
Connor released me and slapped Austin on the back. "I can't believe you found your Elinor, mate. You might have mentioned her last night."
Austin opened his mouth to speak just as Connor noticed Austin's injured hand.
"What's this?" Connor said.
"Had a run-in with an orc this morning. Nasty, nasty creatures," Austin said with a grin. "Had to use my sword."
"A real warrior and fighter, aye?" Connor said. "How'd the orc fare?"
"I got the better of him, naturally." Austin took my hand. "And then this angel of mercy showed up and patched me up."
"Real life imitating fiction, is it, then?" Connor said.
The audience ate it up.
While Connor was occupied with us, I saw Dylan and Jeremy sneak out. Part of their diabolical plan to see Stan Lee.
Connor took my hand and guided me next to Sam, who welcomed me with a smile. "Well. What do you in the audience think? Are she and Sam not twins like Austin and me?"
The audience erupted in applause. Austin whispered something to Connor, who nodded. "Oh, aye."
Connor turned to the audience. "If you agree with me, use your conference app and vote for these two in the cosplay competition—Blair Edwards and Austin MacDougall. For best costumes in the amateur category. There's a tab in the app." Connor whipped his phone out of pocket in his kilt. "There. You have my vote. Sam?"
"Voting now," Sam said.
The audience roared.
"All right," Connor said, and pointed his phone toward the audience. "A selfie with you all before we go? One for my Facebook page?"
The audience ate it up as Connor turned his back to the crowd and snapped a selfie with himself in front of the audience.
"One more with the whole gang," Connor said, pulling Sam close and motioning Austin and I to lean in. He snapped the shot, turned, and bowed to the crowd.
"That's it for us, folks," Liz said over the roar of applause. "We're out of time."
Connor fist-pumped. "Go Team Jamie! Thanks for having us!" He waved to the crowd and took Sam's hand.
As Connor turned to leave the stage, he grabbed my hand with the other. "Come with us." He nodded to Austin. "Both of you. We can't release you to the hordes. Blair here will never make it out with these skirts of hers without ruining that gorgeous piece of craftsmanship. You and the dress will be much safer with us." He winked.
I was delighted. But Austin looked pale. There went the last of his Stan Lee dreams.
Chapter 6
Austin
There was no way out but backstage with Connor, Sam, and Blair. The guys would never let me hear the end of how I'd missed Stan Lee. I'd never be able to admit this was so much better.
To be honest, the appeal of the Stan panel was paling in comparison to being with Blair and hanging with Connor and Sam. I had conflicting desires. The fact that I had any conflict at all was probably half the reason I was still single. I sucked it up and bucked up. Being in the company of two beautiful women was ample consolation. Though Connor was currently hogging them both for himself.
He led us backstage to a green room. "I'm parched. Let's see what we have in here." He opened a small fridge, pulled out a bottle of vitamin water, and tossed it to Sam. "That's her favorite. They all stock it for her." He winked at her. "Aye, she's a diva. A very demanding woman."
Sam laughed. "Liar."
Connor laughed. "It's only a slight exaggeration, maybe. What will you have, Blair?"
"Oh." As Blair put a hand to her lovely throat, her dangly earrings swung. "The same as Sam. If there's another."
"Oh, aye. There is." Connor handed Blair one. "Austin? There's no scotch here. It's a beer or nothing as far as alcohol."
"Water for me," I said, braving any ribbing. "I'm still fighting the hangover. That was some serious drinking last night."
To my surprise, Connor nodded. "Me too. I can put my scotch away with the best of them. But those kilt lifters." He shuddered.
Blair shook her head. "Whisky is notorious for hangovers. Congeners. It's high in them. If you want to avoid a hangover, drink the clear spirits like Vodka."
Connor laughed. "Vodka has no flavor. You can't wean a Scot off whisky. We have more distilleries per capita than anywhere in the world, I think."
"Sorry." Blair blushed. "I'm a doctor. I can't help handing out medical advice. So please. Drink plenty of water. It's important to hydrate the next day."
Connor nodded. "True enough. And I have to look my best for the autographing that's up next. Can't disappoint the ladies. You'll come with us? Part of your package includes an 8x10 with each of us. You don't want to miss that. We'll put you first in line." He handed me a bottle of water. I took it gratefully.
Blair nodded. "I wouldn't miss it." She glanced at me, her eyes dancing with amusement at my conundrum. She knew how much I'd schemed to get to see Stan Lee.
"Nor me," I said, rising to her challenge.
Connor and I unscrewed the lids to our bottles and simultaneously downed them.
"You two really are twins!" Sam said, shaking her head. "You even have the same mannerisms."
"Thirsty men are thirsty men the world over, Sam," Connor said.
She bumped him playfully and turned her attention to Blair, who was obviously star-struck and trying, inadequately, to hide it. I sympathized. I'd felt like that myself when I first met Connor. But I had experience to draw on. I was used to hanging with Lazer, who was a celebrity too. A minor one compared to Connor. But the effect was similar. Connor had talked so much about Sam last night that I felt I knew her. Which lessened the effect a wee bit, as Connor would say.
Sam admired Blair's costume. "Your dress is beautiful. Almost an exact replica of mine. I would swear our costume department made it. The handiwork is so professional. And the detail. Are you wearing a corset beneath it?"
Blair nodded. "Genuine whalebone. It's handmade, also. How do you wear these things on set and still breathe? And run. And do all your action scenes? I can barely breathe just standing here."
"How quickly the talk turns to women's undergarments!" Connor shook his head. "At least they can't blame me for bringing it up."
Sam frowned playfully at him. "Shut up, you big Scot."
"Well, the talk on set quite often turns to corsets, no? And how uncomfortable they are?" he said.
"It does," Sam said. "And for good reason. If you men had to wear them, you'd quickly lose your bravado. There's a reason for the women's movement. It all started with the desire to move freely and still be able to breathe."
Sam returned her attention to Blair. "May I touch it and get a better look? Do you mind?"
"Go ahead. Please." Blair's voice was soft with awe. And she was flushed with pleasure. Completely stunning with her cheeks rosy like that.
Sam bent for a closer look at some stitching. Women loved to admire clothing construction. "I still can't get over this. It's simply magnificent." She lightly fingered the fabric. "How did you do it? There aren't any patterns out."
"My mom made it. She has a degree in fashion. She used to work in the costume department of one of the local theaters. Before she got me."
"Mom?" The word caught my attention. Her use of the word "got" was odd, too. "I thought your aunt made it."
Blair nodded. "She did. My aunt raised me after my parents died. She's both mom and aunt to me. I forget and use them interchangeably. Sorry. It's confusing."
"Oh." Sam hugged her with one arm. "I'm sorry about your parents."
Blair nodded.
"However, if your aunt ever wants a job in film, I'll happily recommend her," Sam said. "I still can't get over this. The craftsmanship is delightful and detailed."
There was a knock on the door. A staffer popped her head in. "It's time to escort you to your autographing session."
Connor glanced at his watch. "You're right. It's getting late! The autographing is at the hotel across the way. We'd better get going or we'll be late. And have some very unhappy fans." He tossed his empty bottle into the recycling. "We're on a tight schedule and will be lucky to get to everyone who's signed up. I'm already dreading a mean case of writer's cramp."
Sam took a quick swallow of her vitamin water, nodded, and recapped it. "You're right. We'd better be going if we want time to be touched up before the photographing begins."
The Stan Lee panel was becoming a distant, fading dream. I tossed my bottle in after Connor's. Our escort stepped into the room and stood aside as a new entourage entered.
Out of nowhere, Stan Lee appeared with his escort.
I froze, suddenly tongue-tied.
Almost Jamie (The Jet City Kilt Series) (Volume 1) Page 7
