Between Takes

by Morgana Bevan

  A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me that my sweaty body was plastered against my boss. I shushed it, content to drown in his green eyes. So what if it was inappropriate? He caught me. I didn’t instigate anything.

  His head lowered and, ignoring the tiny grain of self-control I still possessed, I licked my lips. His hot eyes dropped to my mouth and mine followed. His breath tickled my face, tempting and taunting me.

  Shaun smirked. “If you wanted me to hold you, you could have just asked,” he muttered, our noses almost touching.

  His words jolted me from the spell his concern had woven and reality set in. My body stiffened against his hold while my mind went on the defensive. A second longer and I might have taken matters into my own hands and kissed him.

  “Thank you for the save, but you can put me down now.”

  “Good catch, Mr Martin, but next time, I advise that you let the mat do the work,” the instructor chastised, further shattering the moment.

  “I like you like this,” he whispered, completely blocking out the instructor. My stomach flipped at his words, churning with excitement and disbelief. Could he mean what I—

  “You’re easier to deal with when you’re off balance. I think I’ll hold onto you for a bit.” Shaun grinned like the egotistical ass he was.

  The fragile bubble of excitement burst, and I embraced the sting of disappointment. Hopefully it would protect me the next time I thought about succumbing to his charm.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Despite Shaun’s insistence that he didn’t miss me on set, he kept popping in for random things throughout each day. It was rather unfortunate that Brian tasked a runner with shepherding him back to set. At least Adrian would have stood up to Shaun. The panic in the runner’s eyes grew every day as the AD team bombarded the radio with calls for Shaun. Shaun didn’t even have to say anything to the poor kid these days; his disappearing acts generated the stress with little to no input from him. The guilt set in quickly.

  It was just easier to focus in the trailer, without the buzz of people rushing around. Plus, if he did decide to sneak off for a drink, I had warning systems in place. Leanne had no idea why she was texting me every time Shaun so much as twitched towards the equipment room, and Tom just thought it was all in the norm for a PA to demand updates every time her boss got in his car. Despite how much time I spent there, I couldn’t always watch his trailer. If he decided to come here and found a stash I’d missed…

  Okay, I was avoiding him too.

  What else was I supposed to do? My boss had nearly kissed me. Or at least I thought he was going to kiss me.

  And I’d wanted him to.

  I’d wanted his lips on mine, and the fact it might have been nothing but a ploy to throw me off balance made me want to claw his eyes out. An odd mix of relief, anger and disappointment plagued my thoughts, and I did not want to be around Shaun with that volatile cocktail. One moment I’d convince myself that it was all in my head – the interest or the deviousness, I’m not sure which – and the next, he’d deliver lunch with a huge smile and sit chatting about anything but work. If someone could have a personality transplant, Shaun had done it.

  Even so, I begrudgingly conceded that my avoidance had become a distraction. And distractions meant the production fell behind chasing Shaun all over the studio. So, like the good little assistant I was meant to be, I made a point of hanging out on the sidelines again with his coffee ready.

  The elated smile on his face wiped the slate clean, but today I had one regret: Why hadn’t I checked the schedule before I returned to set?

  Mystery Lines wasn’t a very violent show, but there were still some scenes in the script that got up close and personal. And Shaun had decided to do his own stunts.

  I watched the stuntman take a swing at him, and I flinched. Never mind the fact there was no impact, it looked real from where I sat. My eyes prickled and my stomach hurt. After the third hit, I put the coffee down – clutching a cup of hot liquid while he scuffled on the soundstage was not a good idea.

  I gripped the edges of my adopted flight case and forced the emotions back.

  When Gary called for a break, my face ached from holding a smile in place and my back muscles screamed from the lack of movement. Dragging air into my chest became a priority. And getting out of the studio.

  Deep breaths, Baines. It was staged. He doesn’t have a scratch on him… But why the hell do I care?

  “How did it look?” Shaun asked, a cheerful lilt peppering his Welsh accent.

  “Fine,” I muttered, more focused on surreptitiously working out the kinks in my muscles.

  “Just fine?” His voice rose with alarm. “It can’t be just fine, Mona. I have to do it again if it was just fine!”

  Oh, please don’t.

  “It was great.” I injected as much pep into my voice as possible. He didn’t look convinced by my bright smile. “Do you want coffee? I’ll, em, I’ll go get it.”

  I jumped down from my box and marched over to the mercifully empty Crafty table. I dumped the cup of lukewarm coffee in the bin and started preparing two more – not that I needed one; I was far too wired as it was.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Panicking that he’d injure himself in a stunt he’d practised for weeks, seriously?

  “Are you alright there?” Shaun appeared at my side, startling me to the point that I missed the cup and spilt almond milk all over the table.

  Swearing, I crouched down and frantically searched the boxes beneath for a towel of some kind. With two clean tea towels in hand, I set to work mopping up the spill and ignoring Shaun’s bewildered stare.

  “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

  His lifted brows told me he didn’t believe me. Oh well, I didn’t either.

  I blocked him out and focused on finishing his coffee. When I glanced up to hand it over, he stood frozen with a cookie inches from his mouth. His eyes were wide and fixed on me like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, which he had. His personal trainer had been rather specific about cutting sugar from Shaun’s diet.

  I couldn’t see anything wrong with a treat now and again. It wasn’t like Shaun tore through junk food on the regular. Plus, he’d drop some serious calories now that he was off the drink. Still, it was a comical scene and I intended to enjoy it. I put the cup down, crossed my arms and welcomed stern Mona into the building.

  Shaun lowered the cookie, indecision consuming his features.

  He couldn’t win either way. If he ate it, he’d expect me to pipe up with a threat to tell his trainer. If he put it back, it would be disgusting and I’d have to say so. But if he binned it… oh boy, would he open a can of worms he’d regret. There was nothing I hated more than waste, and I’d seen a lot of it on this set.

  He met my gaze with an assessing light. He looked like a toddler caught with his hand in a cookie jar. An adorable one with a dimple, a mop of dark brown hair and sad but sly green eyes.

  And Shaun Martin as a toddler was not an image I wanted in my head! Gah! How do I get it out?

  “Turn around,” Shaun ordered, wiggling his fingers at me.

  “What?”

  “Turn around!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I told you to.”

  It was my turn to cock a brow. He should have known getting surly with me would gain him nothing.

  Shaun sighed. “Mona, please would you turn around so I can eat this cookie before they pull me back on set for another round of gruellingly choreographed stunts?”

  “If your blood sugar is low, you should probably eat an apple or have some juice.” I struggled not to crack a smile at his wide-eyed desperation.

  The panic slipped and a hard edge entered his gaze. “I really don’t like people telling me what to do.” He frowned, and I broke. I laughed. It started out thready, but as his consternation grew, I laughed harder. Silence fell around us as the crew nearby stopped moving.

  After the stress of the las
t few days and tiptoeing around him, it felt good to banter with him like there wasn’t this big “what if” hanging over our heads.

  Shaun turned to the runner he’d made a habit of petrifying. “Here, have a cookie.” He placed it in the kid’s hands and turned his back on his bewildered expression.

  Invading my personal space, Shaun forced me to straighten up and pulled me close to his body. The look of concern on his face sobered me slightly.

  “Get it together, Mona,” Shaun whispered, leaning so close that his breath tickled my ear and his nose grazed my hair. I shivered. “I know moving down here was hard, but if you’re going to cry on set, maybe you should stay in my trailer.”

  His words had the same effect as a dip in the River Forth on New Year’s Day. I tore my arm from his and stepped back.

  “Eat the damn cookie, Shaun. No one cares,” I snapped before picking up my coffee and rushing away.

  He was making so much progress. I should have known it wasn’t only the damn drink fuelling his bite.

  “Wow! Easy there,” a stranger said as I almost ran into him. I narrowly avoided tipping my coffee over him. Maybe Shaun was right: being outside the trailer was dangerous for me.

  “I’m so sorry. Did I—” I froze, my eyes and brain finally communicating the fact that the very attractive dirty-blond-haired man I’d nearly knocked over was none other than the front man of Rhiannon. Ryan Evans. “Uh, I’m so sorry, Mr Evans.”

  “Call me Ryan. From the hair and the accent, I’m assuming you’re Mona?” He gestured to my pastel-pink shoulder length hair. I nodded, shaking off the shock.

  “I need to know your secrets, Ryan. I’ve been trying to get her to stop talking for weeks!” Shaun clapped Ryan on the back, his eyes shining at my star-stunned expression. “Why does he have this effect on you but I don’t?”

  I bristled at that praise. Help him and he makes jokes at your expense. Great.

  “I don’t have to see him at four AM almost every morning six days in a row.”

  The high-pitched sound of a child crying swallowed whatever Shaun planned to say in retort. Surprisingly, the set didn’t quiet. In fact, barely anyone reacted to the noise.

  The crew were in the middle of a reset on the soundstage, preparing for another run of scenes without Shaun. I’d managed to convince Brian to rejig plans and free Shaun for the afternoon so he could spend more time with Ryan. I figured he’d need more one-to-one time with a friendly, sympathetic face. An hour wouldn’t be enough. It had taken me days to convince Brian, and what did I get for the effort?

  Argh, men!

  Anyway, a little girl stood off to the side. She looked about five years old with her blond ringlets and blue dress. It would have been a pretty image for the camera, if her face wasn’t raw red and stained with tears. The hairstylist and wardrobe mistress watched with horror as she pulled at her hair and dress, caught in the middle of a tantrum.

  No one moved to soothe her. They were either too focused on their own jobs or too busy laughing at the kid. Where is her chaperone?

  “Can someone shut that child up?” Gary shouted. Irritation reddened his round face. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

  A lump formed in my throat and my stomach knotted. If they wouldn’t help her, I bloody would. I shook off Shaun’s grip on my arm. The question in his gaze quickly cleared as he read my intentions. Concern flooded his features, but he was helpless to do anything. Some of the tension seeped from him as he nodded and stepped aside for me to interfere. Someone in his position couldn’t step in unless he wanted the entire production’s chins wagging.

  Just as I moved forward, Alys rushed to the kid’s side. She knelt down in front of her, wearing a careful smile. From this distance, I couldn’t hear a word she said, but the girl stopped choking on her tears.

  “Who is that?” Ryan asked. Something about his voice pulled my focus. He stared at Alys with fascination.

  “Do you mean Alys?” I pointed to the red-haired woman holding the girl’s hands. Ryan nodded without so much as a glance my way.

  “She’s a coordinator. I think she’s Welsh,” Shaun supplied with a frown. “I’ve worked with her on a couple of things. I should know more than that.”

  “It’s alright,” I said. “No one here expects you to actually remember their names.” It was meant to be reassuring, but his frown deepened.

  Before Shaun could comment, Alys started yelling at the crew. I didn’t blame her one bit. Their laughter had gone on long enough.

  “Listen up, you callous idiots!” Alys shouted. She held the little girl to her side. Her hands covered her ears. “Next time a child starts crying on your set, instead of ignoring her, you might want to ask why!”

  She directed her ire at the crew-at-large. My kind of woman.

  “She’s five! She shouldn’t have to deal with an insensitive bunch of twats who don’t understand the meaning of child performance laws. Do you want to delay production, is that it? Neglecting the well-being of a minor is a great way to do it.” Those words Alys directed to Gary. She met his gaze with a fiery determination and a clear threat: Don’t do it again or I’ll fucking report you.

  “Laughing at her doesn’t get you home any sooner,” she continued. “She has to go back through hair, make-up and wardrobe. So, when you’re all still here at ten PM tonight and you’re looking for someone to blame, make sure you look in the bloody mirror for the culprits.” Ruffling the girl’s hair, Alys led her outside, the make-up and wardrobe mistress following close behind. Neither looked particularly amused at the destruction of their work, but then, neither had stepped in to help either.

  The silence on the set deepened as people glanced at each other, unsure if it was safe to move. Gary had the sense to look sheepish as he stared after Alys.

  “Do you know her?” Ryan asked, dragging my attention back to him and Shaun. He stared at me with a gleam in his eyes.

  “Uh, not well. Why?”

  “Is she single?”

  Shaun laughed. “Butt, you live in Glasgow.”

  Ryan punched Shaun lightly, smirking at his comment. That gleam went nowhere, however.

  “I don’t know if she’s single.” I shrugged. “We haven’t talked about anything but work.”

  “But she lives here?” he asked, his expression turning thoughtful.

  “As far as I’m aware, yes.”

  “Does she like music?”

  “Mona said she doesn’t know her well. Will you chill out?” Shaun clapped him on the back, squeezing his shoulder in one of those man hugs. Shaun’s concern had faded, but his expression remained pensive, as if caught in the past. I frowned and his gaze traced the motion. He forced his expression to smooth into something more laid-back.

  “I’m starving. Are you coming, Sparky?” Shaun asked, releasing Ryan and turning his back on the shell-shocked crew.

  “Sparky?” I squeaked. “What kind of a name is that meant to be?”

  “A nickname.” His lips twitched as he took in my outrage.

  “Why Sparky?”

  He tilted his head, his eyes laughing at me. “I don’t think it needs explaining.”

  I growled and he outright chuckled.

  “Are you coming to lunch?”

  “That’s not necessary,” I bit out. “I’m sure you’ve got lots of catching up to do. I can grab lunch here and get some of these tweaks in.”

  “Are you actually going to eat?”

  “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  Shaun’s scepticism was etched plain across his face.

  “What are you going to have?” He crossed his arms, widened his stance and fixed me with a hard stare.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t check the catering menu today.” I knew he was going out for lunch so I hadn’t needed to arm myself with that information. “Besides, we’re done for the day, aren’t we? I figured I’d go home and eat.”

  Delight brightened Shaun’s face, but I wasn’t naive enough to ease my
guard. “Ha! You’re coming with us, Sparky,” Shaun declared.

  “No ‘ha’. Aren’t you listening, Hotshot? I’m not coming into town with you.”

  Ryan’s eyes bounced between us, as if following a ping-pong match. What must we look like, bickering over lunch?

  “You’re full of shit. No arguing. You’re coming to lunch.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Shaun held up his hand, a wicked glint entering his eyes. “One more excuse and I’ll carry you out of here.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” I crossed my arms and stepped back, eying him like he’d lost his damn mind, which he had.

  “Close enough,” he grumbled. I screeched as he leaned down without warning and pressed his shoulder against my stomach.

  He threw me over him fireman-style without pausing to check if I was okay. The pressure of his shoulder against my gut was not pleasant. My stomach might as well have detached itself and jumped into my throat. My hands scrambled for a hold, landing on his back pockets before my brain could catch up with the body part beneath my hands.

  My face grew hot, and I buried it in his shirt. A couple people chuckled at us. Great, just what I need to destroy my badass image on set.

  Shaun’s biceps tightened against my thighs, and my traitorous body liked it. Need gripped my centre and I squirmed on his shoulder, trying to escape the sensation. A hand landed on my butt, holding me firmly in place and intensifying the ache.

  “Stop moving. I promise I won’t drop you.” Unlike me, he seemed entirely unaffected by his hold.

  A beguiling voice dared me to move mine to see what he would do. I banged my head against his back until it stopped.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Do you remember that time you tried to steal the frogs before biology class?” Amusement shone in Ryan’s eyes.

  Shaun shifted in his seat, avoiding my intrigued gaze. Bet he regretted asking me to join them now. Or at least wished he’d eaten his meal faster. Both Ryan and I had finished a while ago. Shaun had been too busy talking Ryan’s ear off.

  “You were convinced that the teacher was only trying to freak us out and we wouldn’t actually dissect them, so they must have still been alive.” Laughter overtook Ryan then, and I happily sipped my lemonade until he gathered himself. Meanwhile, Shaun studiously cut up a piece of broccoli.