His Miracle Baby: A Bad Boy Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  There’s an edge between them today. I don’t know what it means, but it’s like something happened. It’s actually electrifying, and I think everyone on set can see it. Whatever happened is making their performance that much better.

  “Cut!” Lionel yells. “Yes, good, Jackson! You kiss her like you kiss your mother, yes?”

  I raise an eyebrow, surprised, and look around. Nobody seems shocked by that.

  “Uh, no,” Jackson says. “I don’t kiss my mother that way.”

  Holly is studiously not looking at him as Lionel walks over.

  “Listen to me, Jackson. You must woo her, kiss her like she’s the only woman alive. Yes, you know what I mean by this?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Jackson says. He glances in my direction and I grin back at him

  “Come here,” Lionel says to Jackson. “Don’t be shy, boy, come here.”

  Jackson walks over to the odd German director. Lionel steps up to Jackson and puts his hands on Jackson’s waist. I can instantly tell that Jackson is super uncomfortable with this, but I can’t help but grin even bigger.

  “Like this, you see? You must caress her. Make her feel loved, like a sexual woman. You hear, yes?”

  “I hear you,” Jackson grunts. “You don’t need to demonstrate.”

  “I do need to demonstrate. What, you shy??

  “Not shy,” Jackson says. “Just don’t think you’re my type.

  For a second, Lionel looks insulted. The whole set holds its breath, since Lionel is actually famous for flying off the handle at any small thing. I’m sure that Jackson doesn’t know anything about Lionel’s reputation, though. If he did, he might have been a little smarter about it.

  But instead, Lionel starts laughing and lets him go. “Yes, well, I am not pretty woman like Holly,” Lionel says.

  “No, you’re not,” Jackson answers, looking relieved.

  “Go again! This time, kiss her better!”

  I watch them do the scene again, and that weirdness is still between them. This time though, it doesn’t look like there’s a strong sexual chemistry. This time, I see it for what it is.

  They look a little awkward. I can’t tell if it’s Holly or if it’s Jackson, but they’re clearly both trying.

  Even still, when he kisses her, I feel that tinge of jealousy get at me again. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, since it’s a freaking movie set, but I can’t help it. Jackson isn’t mine and probably never will be, but I still don’t like watching him kiss someone else right in front of me.

  Eventually they get a take that Lionel is happy with, and the day continues from there. Jackson gets all beat up and sweaty for some action sequences, and Holly disappears back into her trailer since she’s not in these shots. Meanwhile, I get absorbed in my own work, and I slowly forget about that jealous moment I had earlier.

  At the end of the day, I’m in wardrobe going through the costumes for tomorrow. I need to make sure that they stay the same so that there are no continuity issues in shooting. There can’t be a single thread out of place these days, since everything is shot in such glorious high definition.

  “I saw you earlier.”

  I start and turn around. Jackson is leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Watching that kiss. I saw your face.”

  I frown at him. “I was busy laughing at Lionel trying to make sweet love to you.”

  He grins and walks into the room. I’m intensely aware that we’re very alone in here, but of course I’m not afraid of Jackson. I’m more nervous for what I might do.

  “Lionel couldn’t handle all this.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that. “I don’t know. I hear he’s pretty strong.”

  “Maybe, but Lionel is European. He can’t take all this American power.”

  I grin at him and shake my head. “He’s German. They’re pretty tough people.”

  “Nah. Besides, Lionel isn’t my type.”

  “I know, you told him that. Do you know why the whole set got quiet when you said it?”

  He shakes his head. “I figured they just don’t have a sense of humor.”

  “No, they do. It’s more that Lionel is famous for his temper.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Is he really? See, that’s the sort of thing I need help with.”

  “Consider this a free lesson then.”

  “Thanks,” he says, smirking. “How much do the other lessons cost? I have a lot of money now, you know.”

  “Oh, I heard all about it.” I look away from him and go back to what I’m doing. “You can’t afford my rate.”

  He laughs and leans up against the wall behind me. “So was that scene really that bad?” he asks me.

  “No, at least I didn’t think so,” I say. “Maybe a little tense.”

  “Yeah,” he grunts, “that’s what I was afraid of.”

  I turn and cock my head at him. “Why would you be afraid of that?”

  “Never mind,” he says, smirking at me. “I’d rather talk about how jealous you were.”

  I pause, a little surprised. “I wasn’t jealous,” I say quickly.

  “Yes, you were. I saw it all over your face. You didn’t like me kissing Holly.”

  “It’s a movie, Jackson. It’s all fake. I’ve seen plenty of actors kiss.”

  “Sure, but this isn’t fake.” He pushes off the wall and steps closer to me. “Like the other night. You were going to kiss me.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I definitely wasn’t.”

  “Come on, Tara. You’re telling me that out on the dance floor, getting close and sweaty, you didn’t want to taste it one more time?”

  I shake my head but we both know I’m lying. My heart is hammering in my chest and he’s coming closer to me, and I’m not backing off. In fact, I turn toward him, looking into his sultry, gorgeous eyes. There’s a slight smile on his face but the tension between us is electric and incredible. It’s nothing like what I saw out on the stage earlier today between him and Holly.

  “You’re jealous. Just admit it,” he says to me softly, stopping inches away.

  “No,” I say. “You’re delusional.”

  “I’m a lot of things, but delusional isn’t one of them,” he says quietly, reaching up and slowly running his hand down through my hair. He stops and grabs a fistful of it, tipping my head back.

  I should get the hell out of here. I know what’s coming next. I should stop him, say something, push him away. I need to remember what he did to me all those years ago.

  And yet… looking into his eyes right now, his hand in my hair, his body so close, that old pain is softer, almost muted. It’s like being near him sucks away the hurt that happened so long ago and makes it better again. I don’t know how, since seeing him should make it worse, but it doesn’t. Being near him feels like something I can’t describe.

  He leans forward, and I know I’m lost. He presses his lips against mine and kisses me deeply.

  I moan softly into his lips as I kiss him back. His taste floods my mouth, so familiar. It’s insane how I remember everything about this and how nothing’s changed. As soon as he kisses me, I feel like we’re back in high school again, and it feels so damn good. That rush of good feelings tears through me as he presses his hand against my lower back and pulls me closer to him. I put my hands on his chest and lean into the kiss, letting myself enjoy it, not think about it.

  Slowly, the kiss ends, after what feels like forever. He releases my hair but he doesn’t release my body as he looks down at me with a smirk on his lips.

  “Like I said,” he whispers softly. “You want me to kiss you.”

  “Get out of here,” I say to him, shaking my head, but I can’t stop the smile on my face.

  “Does this mean that the truce is permanent?” he asks.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I say, pushing him away.

  He laughs and stumbles back toward the door. “Don’t be m
ad, Tara girl. I’m just giving you what you want.”

  “Asshole,” I say with a smile. “Go away and let me do my job.”

  “Fine. But I’ll be thinking about that kiss.”

  “I bet you will.”

  “In my shower. Right now.” He grins and winks at me.

  I groan. “You’re so crude. And still making jokes like a high school boy.”

  “I’ll never outgrow a good jerkoff joke.” He waves and leaves the room, and I can’t help but laugh.

  I feel like I’m floating, but I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking. I can’t trust Jackson, not at all, and I still think there might be something between him and Holly. I don’t want to just be some idiot he uses and abuses again. I don’t want to let him back into my life just to have him destroy me all over again.

  I don’t think he understands what he did to me when he left. I was torn to pieces, totally devastated. I basically didn’t speak for a week, and did nothing but cry into my pillow every waking minute. The pain was something I’ve never experienced before and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it, not completely.

  Kissing him and letting him back into my life is just begging for that kind of pain again. But god, it’s also begging for a pleasure I haven’t felt in so long.

  It was a good kiss, a damn good kiss, but I don’t know how far it can go. If I let him, he’ll take even more from me, and I’m not sure I can get any of it back again.

  But I want to feel that pleasure. I want to feel even more pleasure. I want him and badly, and I don’t know what to do.

  11

  Jackson

  It was exactly what I thought it would be. No, actually, it was so much fucking better.

  It was like coming home. But it was like coming home to find that your house had grown up and gotten a fantastic fucking pair of tits.

  Okay, maybe that metaphor’s pretty fucked and mixed to hell but whatever. Kissing Tara was better than I expected, and I had some high expectations.

  I’ve been thinking about seeing her again and finally kissing her one more time for years. There were some dark points overseas where the thought of holding Tara in my arms one more time kept me fucking going. I thought about her over and over again, used the memories I had of the two of us to keep me going. She’ll probably never really know how much she saved my life. There’s no way she could understand, even if I tried to explain.

  I’m understandably distracted an hour after I finally got to kiss the woman I’ve been dreaming about for so long when my agent calls me.

  “You got dinner plans,” Mickey says to me.

  “I do?” I ask him, just getting into my apartment.

  “Yeah, you fuckin’ do, so get dressed. There’s a car coming in an hour.”

  I smile to myself. Normally this would annoy me. I hate when Mickey forces me into these last minute fucking glad-handing networking bullshit dinners, but whatever. I’m in a good mood today.

  “All right,” I say to him.

  He pauses. “That’s it? Just all right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “What, you want me to argue?”

  “Hell no. The producer of your film wants a meeting with you, so you better be on your best behavior.”

  That gets my attention. “Any specific reason?”

  “Not that I know of. Just go and enjoy a free meal on their dime.”

  I sigh. “Fine.”

  “Have fun. Be charming!” He hangs the phone up before I can tell him that I’m always fucking charming.

  I’m still in a good damn mood as I shower up and get changed. I’m in the back of the car exactly an hour later, still smiling to myself and still reliving that kiss over and over in my mind.

  The car takes me up into the hills, and the houses get bigger and bigger. Eventually it stops outside this fucking huge mansion, which I assume is the producer’s place. I don’t know much about him, although I know he’s filthy rich and named Harold. I’m sure I was told more, but I don’t really pay attention sometimes when Mickey goes on and on about the important people.

  I ring the bell and a man wearing a waiter’s outfit opens the door. He leads me in through this huge entrance hall, complete with a chandelier that probably costs as much as my car, and out through the back.

  The porch is large and mostly open, with a beautiful view of a deep, gorgeous in-ground pool and the sprawling LA cityscape spread out below. The sun is setting slowly as I step over toward the table and size up what I’m dealing with.

  Sitting at the head of the table is Harold. I vaguely recognize him from the first table reading. He stands up and grins at me. He’s balding, with a hawkish nose and deep-seated blue eyes. He’s shorter than I am, though most people are.

  Next to him is a guy I don’t know. He’s shorter than Harold, with thick dark hair and a dour expression on his face.

  And sitting across from him is Holly Hart.

  “Jackson!” Harold says, coming over to me. “Great of you to come, I’m really glad.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I say, shaking his hand.

  “This is Franklin, an executive from the studio.” The other guy nods at me and I nod back. “And of course, you know Holly.”

  “Evening, stranger,” Holly says, smiling at me.

  I smile back. “Evening, lady.”

  “Come on, sit down. Food’s ready if you’re hungry.”

  I take my seat at the other end of the table and a waiter appears with a tray of food. I take a little surf and turf type deal, with a lobster tail and a nice cut of steak. He also hands me a glass of whisky. Obviously they did their homework about me.

  “You know, Jackson, the studio thinks this movie could be huge,” the executive says as I dig into my steak. I’m fucking starving.

  “I bet,” I say to him. “We’re killing it. All thanks to Holly.”

  “No, we hear it’s all thanks to you,” Harold says quickly.

  I glance over at Holly and she frowns but says nothing.

  “Really, Jackson, I saw a daily. Those action scenes? How do you do it?” Harold asks.

  “I just picture the Taliban and go from there.” I grin at him a little bit. SEAL shit like that usually goes over well.

  Both men laugh and Holly just gives me a polite smile. She’s not buying my bullshit, which is fine by me.

  “Seriously, it’s all the training and the stunt guys. I just do what I’m told,” I continue, sipping my drink.

  “Well, whatever it is, keep doing it,” Harold says.

  The others start eating and I notice that Holly looks a little nervous. I don’t know why, but she’s not looking at me. Things have been weird since I rejected her, but I don’t think that’s the reason.

  “Tell me, Jackson, how’s that director working out?” Franklin the studio guy asks me.

  I shrug a little bit. “He’s fine. A little weird. But he knows what he’s doing.”

  “We’ve heard stories,” Franklin says. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with him?”

  I narrow my eye in his direction. “Would it matter if I’m not?”

  “Of course it would,” Harold says, cutting in. “We want you to be happy.”

  I look at them a little and shrug. “He’s good. I’m comfortable.”

  They nod and smile at me, but I’m feeling a little weird. Actually, this whole thing is strange. Why is Holly here, and why would both of these guys need to be at this one dinner? These are two powerful guys, they don’t take meetings like this for no reason.

  I finish off my steak and sip my drink as conversation turns to trivial things. Holly is quiet so Harold does most of the talking. When everyone is finished and leaning back in their chairs, I notice Franklin giving Harold a little look, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.

  “So boys,” I say to the two men. “I have to ask this. Why are you two sitting down with both me and Holly right now?”

  Harold smiles a little at that. “You don’t like to play games, huh?” he asks me.
/>
  “Not really,” I admit. “I’m just wondering why the producer and a studio executive would want to have this little meeting.”

  The two men share a smile and Harold sighs. “Okay, so you see through it. This isn’t some social call.”

  Holly turns ghostly white. I try and ignore that. She’s been in this business longer than I have, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking right now. Maybe we’re about to get fired or something.

  “Here’s the thing,” Harold continues. “Like I said, we all think this movie can be big… and we think it can benefit from some publicity.”

  “You see,” Franklin cuts in, “your relationship with Holly here is an integral part of the film, right?”

  I hesitate a second. “You mean the relationship our characters have,” I say to him.

  “Not exactly,” Harold says. “I mean literally, your relationship with Holly.”

  I glance at her and she looks back. She smiles a little sheepishly, but the color’s returning to her cheeks.

  “Spell it out for me,” I say to Harold.

  “We want you and Holly to date,” he says simply.

  I stare at him for a second and then start laughing. I can’t help myself, it’s just such an absurd thing to say. Holly looks a little insulted.

  “What’s wrong with dating me?” she asks me.

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” I say, grinning my face off. “It’s just, goddamn, are you really asking me to date her for the sake of the movie?”

  Harold smiles a little and exchanges another look with Franklin. “This isn’t unheard of,” he says to me. “Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise did it for years. Brad and Angelina. Jay Z and Beyoncé.”

  “Wait, hold up,” I say, shocked. “You mean Jay Z and Beyoncé aren’t really in love?”

  Harold laughs and gestures at me. “This is Hollywood, Jackson. Nothing is real here, not even the music people.”

  I’m fucking appalled. I feel like my whole world is collapsing. If Jay Z and Beyoncé aren’t really in love, then nothing is true. I don’t know if I can even believe in real love anymore.

  “It won’t be so bad,” Holly says. “My last boyfriend was fake.”

  “It’s a tried and true promotional thing,” Franklin adds. “People love seeing movies where the leads are together in real life.”