Between Takes

by Morgana Bevan

  Why did I remember him? I was usually terrible with faces, and our interaction had lasted a matter of seconds.

  I caught my gaze before it could fall further and forced my attention back to his face. His lips twitched and my face warmed. He’d caught my once-over. Still, I couldn’t look away. I didn’t think I’d ever grow tired of that smile.

  A tall, thin guy covered in tattoos turned to follow the direction of his stare. He smirked, slapping my watcher on the back before leaning in. His lips moved, and the pair laughed. He gave him a shove towards me, and my stomach dropped. Looking was one thing, but being approached in this dive bar was not on my agenda. I didn’t care how he made my pulse race; I was done with men.

  I tore my eyes away and unlocked my phone to check messages, social media – anything to distract me. When my eyes tipped up again, drawn to him by some cruel magnetic force, he was openly grinning at me from across the room.

  Heat suffused my body, and I willed it away. All of my attempts to let people in had backfired. I was tired of trying, of getting my heart broken. And I was sick of men taking advantage and treating me like their plaything. After my last mishap, it was becoming clear that true happiness would not include a man. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to, anyway.

  A nice house with Emily close by would do me fine.

  I frowned at my phone. It revealed no more clues than the strangers surrounding me. It wasn’t like her to ditch me without at least a text, and Emily hadn’t been online in four hours. My fingers hovered over the keyboard while I chewed my lip in indecision. She hadn’t seen my last ten messages either. This was not like her.

  Fuck it. Another text couldn’t hurt.

  Alys: Where are you? Gig’s started and the wine sucks. HURRY UP! Xxx

  I stared at the screen for another minute out of some misguided hope that little speech bubbles would appear. They didn’t.

  “You’ve either been stood up or your friends are late,” someone shouted above me. Air tickled my ear. The sound startled me enough that I added my foul wine to the sticky cocktail coating the old rubber floor.

  My head snapped up. The god from across the room grinned down at me, his crystal-blue eyes captivating. His slightly crooked smile jump-started my pulse, and my grip on common sense slipped.

  I frowned at his nose. Not quite a god. The tiny bump on the bridge would have ruled him out of godhood.

  “None of the above?” He leaned towards me to be heard over the caterwauling filtering through the amps. His trim body blocked out the stage, and I couldn’t find it in me to be mad about it.

  My lungs filled with his smouldering, spicy scent, and if I weren’t a trained dancer, my knees might have buckled. What the utter hell?

  Eyes narrowed, I considered his open, patient face. There were two kinds of attractive men: the ones who were oblivious to their power, and the ones who knew their effect and exploited it.

  This guy knew he was good looking, and he expected me to fall at his feet. I should have spotted it last night. I’d had enough experience with his type over the years to know that I hated that kind of man. They were always looking for better, and they had a nasty habit of disappearing right when your heart decided it was safe to let them in.

  And yet that smile and those eyes still held me. I couldn’t make myself turn away. “My friend’s late.”

  “Remind me to thank her,” he shouted.

  A small part of me was grateful for my three-inch boots. With men over six foot, they made the height difference far more manageable. His eyes bore into mine, fixated. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and my lower belly clenched in response. Hate these men or not, my body couldn’t ignore their charm.

  I’d dated a lot over the years – setups, online matches, one-night stands, unwise attempts at relationships – but none of them had made the room fade or my throat close up with nerves. Not even one of them had captivated me with nothing but a smile or made my heart race with the caress of their gaze. Somehow this one cut through the disinterest. I frowned.

  “So, this is going to seem crazy, but you seem really familiar,” he said.

  Relief snatched my unwanted nerves. I wasn’t odd for remembering such a brief encounter. “We passed each other on the stairs last night at the Old Ballroom.”

  His shoulders relaxed at my response. That easy smile creased his eyes, and my chest tightened. “We did, but I don’t think that’s it.”

  I searched his face for clues. I’d have remembered meeting him before yesterday. No way would I forget his quiet confidence or my inexplicable fascination with the quirk of his lips.

  “You were on the set of the Mystery Lines show this summer, right?”

  I nodded. I’d been on it since May, rode out an uneasy couple of weeks short of production staff and still produced what would hopefully be the next contender for an Emmy or BAFTA.

  He raised the bottle to his lips, grinning. “I thought so.”

  My brows creased as I searched my memories from the summer. I couldn’t place him on my set. I would have noticed him.

  “My mate, Shaun Martin, was in it. You’re the woman who told the crew off for being callous idiots.”

  I covered my face, shaking my head. “You saw that?”

  Callused fingers gently pulled my hand away from my eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. It was brilliant. They all stood about while the chaperone tried to get a handle on that little girl. You jumped right in and calmed her down.”

  “She was going blue in the face. Someone had to do something before she passed out.”

  “And that someone was you?”

  “No one else had the sense to, so yeah, it had to be me.” My throat hurt from shouting, but I didn’t want to stop talking to him.

  “I left the set pretty fast. How did they all take it?” he asked, rocking back on his heels while I squirmed with remembered embarrassment.

  “My production manager found it funny. The rest of them tiptoed around me for a couple of days.” I watched the swirl of wine in my plastic cup while I spoke.

  “It was brave,” he said, his tone firm.

  I peeked at him from beneath my lashes. His eyes travelled across my face, seeming to absorb every detail. “You think so?”

  He nodded. “Hundred percent.”

  “Did Shaun Martin really see?” I asked, my voice tentative and barely audible. He stared at my lips, frowning as he tried to decipher my question.

  Shaun Martin was the leading man of the series and kind of a big deal, even if he had started out trying to tank his career. At the beginning of production for Mystery Lines, he’d tried to get plenty of people fired. He hadn’t been successful, and thankfully he’d gotten over whatever had been making him act out. But I’d still disrupted set, even if I was defending a helpless girl. Someone like him hated wasting time, and I’m sure he could talk a producer into giving him anything he wanted the next time around, including not hiring a brazen production coordinator.

  The frown cleared and Blondie’s amused eyes were appraising when they jumped back to mine. “He thought it was impressive too. His assistant was quite the firecracker. You gave her a run for her money.”

  “You met Mona?”

  He nodded. “A couple of times now. Do you know her well?”

  I shrugged. “A little. I hired her.”

  His unfocused eyes shifted to the left. “When she was trying to get out from under Shaun, you mean?”

  “I didn’t know they were involved at the time, but I guess so.”

  Our production secretary quit without notice two months in. She’d been missed, and the production team had struggled to absorb her tasks. For a couple weeks, we floundered trying to keep on top of the last-minute transport and accommodation changes for the entire cast and crew, as well as prepare the sides for the next day. When Mona accepted my offer to jump ship and join production, I snapped her up without much thought. Thankfully, Shaun hadn’t been pissed, and it hadn’t backfired on me.

/>   “Did you find out why she was crying?” he asked, bringing me back to the present.

  I frowned at the sudden question. My mind raced, trying to figure out how it applied to Mona. I’d never seen her cry.

  “What?”

  “The girl.” His intense blue eyes snared me like a trap. Why do I feel the urge to spill all my secrets to this guy every time our eyes meet? “Did you find out why she was upset?”

  The genuine interest in his gaze both intrigued and terrified me. Men rarely cared about my job. They asked the perfunctory questions about meeting famous people, but their eyes always glazed over when I tried to go deeper. Not this guy. I liked it too much.

  “She missed her mother. She died a couple of months before, and it was her first acting gig without her.” A pang hit me in the chest. I tried to force that memory out of my mind by raising the awful wine to my mouth and focusing on the acidic liquid searing my taste buds. It didn’t help.

  Our only child actress had thrown a fit because no one had danced her around the space or read lines with her. Like her mother did and never would again.

  His amusement faded. “Poor kid.” Admiration filled his tone when he added: “I’ve never seen someone soothe a kid so fast. Good work.”

  Heat spread up my neck and into my cheeks.

  “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. It took guts.” He raised his drink to his lips without breaking eye contact. “There were loads of people there whose job it was to look after the kid, right?”

  “Yes, but I went about it wrong. I should have spoken to the director and had him step in.” But I hadn’t really been thinking. I’d heard her cry and reacted.

  “Your way was far more badass.” He smiled. My lips curved in response. “I’m sorry for staring. I guess your face stuck with me after that.”

  I nodded. My eyes drifted towards the stairs, hoping Emily would magically appear and let me escape his sincere light. But no luck. Emily was still MIA and this guy still drew me in. So much for dousing the flames.

  For the first time, I noticed the sound engineer glaring with his arms crossed at the idiot on stage swinging the mic at the very tip of safe. Somebody really should stop him before he hits someone. Hell, if it meant he’d stop screaming, I’d do it. There was screamo and then there was this ear-destroying monstrosity. There were plenty of leather-wearing men in the room sporting spiky jewellery who probably loved it, but even they frowned at the band.

  “Do you like this type of music?” My persistent companion shouted. He tapped my arm with his cold plastic bottle, drawing my attention back to him. Goose bumps broke out, raising the hairs on my skin.

  “How can you call this noise music?” I asked, pretending that I knew enough about it to have an opinion beyond the Top 40.

  He shrugged. “Some people like it.”

  “But not you?” I held my breath, hopeful I’d at last found some reason to push him away.

  “Definitely not me. I like my music to have understandable lyrics.”

  Relief coursed through me before I could squash it. So maybe I didn’t want him to leave. My eyes widened as they travelled between the stage and him. “That has lyrics?”

  He chuckled. “They say it does. I have my doubts.”

  I glanced over his shoulder at his friends. They were engrossed in a heated argument and seemingly oblivious to his absence. They gestured wildly between them, their faces animated and invested.

  “What’s that about?” I asked, nodding towards them.

  “Who knows. Jared probably said something to wind them up.” He pointed over his shoulder. “That’s normal. I’m far more interested in you.”

  I laughed. “Smooth.”

  He ran his free hand through his hair, grinning boyishly at me. “I’m not all that great with that kind of thing.”

  I snorted and his lips widened, revealing a flash of his teeth.

  “I’d rather not get drawn into whatever they’re arguing about. Would you mind if I kept hanging out with you?” The words hit me as effectively as if he’d whispered them in my ear.

  The answer should have been no, instantaneous and swift rolling off my lips. I wasn’t interested in taking this brief flirtation further. I definitely didn’t want to lead anyone on. Yet I smiled and nodded.

  Relief slivered across his face before his confident demeanour fell back into place.

  “If you could have dinner with only two of your favourite artists, who would you pick?” His eyes wandered across my face, taking in my surprise. “What? Were you expecting me to ask something else?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  I shook my head, unsure if he meant my pick of artists or the question I’d expected to fall from his lips. Surprising man wasn’t so straightforward.

  “You don’t want to know the answer,” I said.

  “Fair warning. If you say Matthew Tuck from Bullet for My Valentine, I’m going to call you a hypocrite.” His eyes sparkled, and a ridiculous thrill swept through me. I enjoyed him looking at me with that teasing glint.

  I’d heard of Bullet for My Valentine. I’d have to live in a cave not to have. They were a Welsh band from a couple towns over, but I had no idea what they sounded like. “Okay. You still don’t want to hear my answer.”

  He stepped closer and his face lit up. He laughed at me. “Now I need to know. It can’t be that bad. You don’t look like the sort to love teeny-bopper music.”

  I laughed too, basking in his attention despite myself. “I’d probably invite Halsey and the Ward Thomas sisters.”

  He pointed at me. “That’s three.”

  “I can’t exactly split up the Ward Thomas sisters.”

  “Then you need to pick just them.”

  “Or I could pick someone else.”

  He gestured for me to do so.

  “Tanc Sade.”

  He frowned, focusing on a point beyond me. “He’s not a musician.”

  “He played one.”

  “Yes, but he’s not a real musician.” He smirked, shaking his head. “You’re terrible at this game,” he said, raising the bottle to his lips.

  “I did warn you.”

  He laughed, the sound rushing around me in a rare break in the music and drawing an uncontrollable smile from me. I could feel my resolve weakening. It would be wise to leave before I forgot why I needed a break from men in the first place. My eyes strayed to the stairs, but I stayed rooted to the spot. Just a few more minutes.

  If you’d like to know what happens next, Chasing Alys releases on September 28th 2021 and is available to preorder for just 0.99.

  Preorder here.

  Or request it from your local library. The print book will go up for preorder on the September 7th along with the cover reveal.

  Also by Morgana Bevan

  True Platinum Series

  Chasing Alys - Ryan

  Winning Nia - James (Feb 2022) Preorder Now

  Enticing Mel - Dan (June 2022)

  * * *

  Kings of Screen Series

  Between Takes

  * * *

  Sign up for Morgana Bevan’s mailing list.

  Acknowledgments

  With thanks to my best friends for putting up with my constant chatter about indie publishing and various marketing techniques. I’ll talk about something else one day.

  Big thanks to Meaghan and Janey for their endless support: keeping me sane and accepting all my requests for last-minute help.

  Also thanks to Amy for being my second pair of eyes, catching any non-industry slips and my assumed knowledge.

  To my amazing editor, Kristen, a massive thank you for supporting me through the start of my author career. Your encouragement has been invaluable and essential for boosting my confidence. Bet you didn’t see this one coming when I was your intern?

  Also thank you to my brilliant cover designer, Kirsty, and your incredible ability to create the perfect cover with very little directio
n from me. You nailed it in one try!

  Moreover, I must say a huge thank you to my incredible PA, Tracey Leck. I’m not sure I’d have gotten to release day with my sanity intact without your support.

  To the readers, thank you for reading this book and taking a chance on me as a new author.

  About Morgana Bevan

  Morgana Bevan is a sucker for a rock star romance, particularly if it involves a soul-destroying breakup or strangers waking up in Vegas. She’s a contemporary romance author based in Wales. When Morgana’s not writing steamy rock star and movie star romances, she’s working in TV production in the UK.

  She enjoys travelling, attending gigs and trying out the extreme activities she forces on her characters (see Instagram for evidence!).

  Find Morgana online at morganabevan.com.

  Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/morganasheartbreakers