by Jae
Oh, shit. Amanda hurried after them. She didn’t want her grandmother to know that Michelle had rescued her as she had stumbled about in a club’s parking lot, too drunk to remember her own address. “Um, I… We…”
“We met at an Anti-Valentine’s Day party,” Michelle said before Amanda could stutter out a complete sentence.
“An Anti-Valentine’s Day party?” her grandmother repeated. “I didn’t even know there was such a thing.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Michelle shrugged. “I haven’t been very lucky in love so far. But I hope that’s about to change.”
Grandma squeezed her arm with both hands. “I’m sure it will, dear.”
“So let’s take a look at the TV,” Amanda said before they started making wedding plans.
Michelle led Grandma over to her armchair and, once she was safely seated, took off her vest and rolled up the sleeves of her ivory-colored shirt, instantly drawing Amanda’s attention to her muscular forearms.
When her grandmother looked at her and grinned, Amanda wrenched her gaze away and checked out the TV instead. Pictures of today’s news flickered across the screen, but there was no sound.
Without paying attention to the damage it might do to her elegant clothes, Michelle squeezed behind the TV stand in the corner of the room.
Amanda moved closer and craned her neck to be able to watch her.
Michelle slid her long fingers along the cables, checking for any damage or loose connectors.
Magic. Unbidden, images of those fingers sliding over her skin flashed through Amanda’s mind.
“Hmm, weird,” Michelle mumbled. “Everything seems to be just the way it’s supposed to be, but I still can’t get it to work. So much for inheriting my grandfather’s skills. I bet he would have fixed it in two seconds flat.”
“Let me see.”
As Michelle slipped out from behind the TV, their bodies brushed.
Amanda’s breath caught. She wanted to lean even closer, breathe in the scent of Michelle’s cologne, and feel her heat, but under her grandmother’s observant eyes, she hastily stepped past Michelle. Hidden behind the TV, she took a trembling breath. Wow. When had she last met a woman who made her weak in the knees like that, without even really touching her?
Hey, you’re here to fix the TV, not to lust for a woman! With fingers that felt unsteady, she unplugged the A/V cable and connected it again.
Still no sound.
“I give up. I’m sorry, Grandma. I’ll call someone to come over and look at the TV first thing tomorrow morning.” When she climbed out from behind the TV stand, Michelle offered her a hand, and she grasped it gratefully, holding on to keep her balance.
Even once she was safely in the middle of the living room again, Michelle didn’t let go. Not that Amanda minded. That strong, warm hand felt good against her own.
“That’s all right. Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll make do without Ellen for one night.” Her grandmother reached out and patted Amanda’s free hand.
As Amanda bent to kiss her grandmother goodnight, her gaze fell on the remote control on the coffee table. Normally, it was buried beneath a stack of TV guides, celebrity gossip magazines, and puzzle books, but now it lay on top of the pile. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Probably not, but it was worth a try. She took the remote control, pointed it toward the TV, and pressed the mute button.
A news reporter’s excited voice blared out of the TV’s speakers.
“Oh my!” Her grandmother clapped her hands. “I must have accidentally pressed that button without realizing it.”
Amanda narrowed her eyes at her, but her grandmother looked completely innocent. Then again, she hadn’t been one of the most critically acclaimed actresses of the fifties and sixties for nothing.
She kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “I’m on to you, you wily old woman,” she whispered into her ear.
Her grandmother batted her big blue eyes at her. “Whatever do you mean, dear?”
Laughing, Amanda kissed her again and said goodnight before following Michelle to the door.
“I’m glad we could solve your grandmother’s problem,” Michelle said when Amanda started the car. “Even though I was no help at all.”
“Oh, you helped her all right.”
At the sarcastic tone of her voice, Michelle looked over at her. “What do you mean?”
“My grandmother is not one of those old ladies who are completely clueless about everything that has to do with technology. She’s got a laptop, an iPad, and a computer with enough RAM to steer a spaceship.”
Michelle frowned. “You mean…that harmless-looking old lady just pulled one over on us?”
“You bet she did. She wanted to check you out, so she found a way to lure us over to her house.”
Michelle’s laughter echoed through the car, a deep, low sound that made Amanda tingle all over. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”
Amanda smiled fondly. “That she is.”
“And so is her granddaughter,” Michelle said, her tone soft and earnest.
Amanda’s gaze veered away from the street for a moment and met hers. Not sure how to respond to Michelle’s words and the expression in her eyes, she quickly refocused her attention to the street.
When they reached Michelle’s bungalow in the Hollywood Hills, Amanda stopped the car and turned off the engine.
For a few moments, they sat in silence.
“So,” Amanda said when she couldn’t stand to listen to her own too-loud breathing any longer.
Michelle looked at her, her gaze as soft as a touch. “So…”
The sudden sound of Madonna’s “Hollywood” nearly made Amanda go through the roof of her car. “Christ.” She clutched her chest. When she turned to grope in the backseat for her purse, her shoulder brushed Michelle’s, starting that by now familiar tingling in every cell of her body again. Finally, she found the ringing cell phone and turned back around, instantly missing the warm touch. “Can we make this short, Kath?”
“Uh, yeah, sure. I just thought you’d want to hear the good news right away.”
“What good news?” Amanda asked, more focused on the way the streetlamps threw shadows across the handsome planes of Michelle’s face than on the phone call. “Did they hire me for that footed pajamas commercial?”
Kathryn laughed, sounding giddier than Amanda had ever heard her. “No. Better. Much, much, much better. You’ve heard of Central Precinct?”
“That hot new crime show that won three Emmys for its first season?”
“Yep, that’s the one. Apparently, the female lead just quit—and they want you to replace her!”
For several seconds, Amanda just sat there and blinked. “But…but I didn’t even audition for a role on that show.”
“Doesn’t matter. They want you, sight unseen.”
“Oh, wow. That’s…that’s…” She dropped the phone onto her lap, bounced up and down in the driver’s seat, and started screaming like a banshee.
“Uh, what’s going on?” Michelle asked, her mouth quirking into a smile as she watched Amanda.
“They offered me a role as one of the leads on Central Precinct!” After one last bounce, Amanda whirled around and beamed at Michelle.
“What? Wow, that’s great! Congratulations!”
Amanda laughed giddily. Feeling so happy that she wanted to embrace the whole wide world, she threw her arms around Michelle instead and kissed her.
For a second, Michelle stiffened.
Instantly, Amanda pulled back. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Christ, first I kiss you when I’m drunk and now—”
Michelle shut her up by pressing their lips together.
Heat flared through Amanda, and she wrapped her arms around Michelle to pull her closer. Drunk on happiness and the feeling of Michelle’s lips against hers, she deepened the kiss and moaned as Michelle’s warm tongue met hers. Her fingers slid up and into Michelle’s short hair.
Finally, after a minute or two, she became aware of a tinny voice coming from the cell phone on her lap. Breathing heavily, she pulled her lips away from Michelle’s and lifted the cell phone to her ear. “I’ve got to go, Kath. I’ll call you tomorrow to get all the details,” she said and hung up without waiting for a reply.
Then her lips were on Michelle’s again.
Half an hour later, even the heat of Michelle’s kisses couldn’t make Amanda ignore the uncomfortable pressure of the middle console against her side any longer. She pulled back and leaned against the driver’s seat, her gaze still on Michelle, drinking her in.
Michelle’s chest was heaving and her hair was disheveled, making Amanda want to run her fingers through it. Slowly, Michelle lifted her hand and touched her own lips.
The gesture made Amanda want to kiss her again, but instead she reached over and brushed a bit of spiderweb off Michelle’s shirt, which must have gotten stuck there when she had climbed behind the TV. When she felt the heat beneath the fabric, her hand lingered on a strong shoulder.
“It’s been longer than I care to admit since I made out with anyone in a car,” Michelle said, her voice hoarse. She pointed at her house. “Want to come in for a while?”
“I’d better not,” Amanda said. “I need to call Kathryn, my agent, bright and early tomorrow morning to find out when the producers want to meet me.”
Michelle nodded and gently touched Amanda’s cheek. “It’s a great role. Congratulations again.”
“Thanks,” Amanda said, suddenly at a loss for words around Michelle.
“I still don’t have your number, so you’ll need to call me. I don’t know if you noticed, but we haven’t gotten around to talking about our Valentine’s Day date.” With the eye that didn’t have the scar, Michelle winked at her. “Guess we’ll have to meet again to talk about it.”
Amanda laughed. “Guess so.” She reached past Michelle to open the glove compartment. Her eyes fluttered shut as she breathed in Michelle’s scent, and she took longer than necessary to straighten. She took a pen and scribbled her private phone number and her address on the back of her business card. “Here.”
Michelle glanced down at the card Amanda handed her. A grin spread over her face. “I’ve got your number now.”
“Oh, you definitely do,” Amanda said. Waves of heat still rolled through her body.
After one last kiss that almost made Amanda change her mind about not coming in, Michelle pocketed the card, said goodnight, and got out of the car.
Amanda sat in the driveway and watched her easy, confident stride. It didn’t matter anymore that she’d never before been attracted to a butch woman, not when Michelle made her blood boil with a simple touch or a single look.
At the door, Michelle turned and raised her hand.
Amanda waved.
Neither of them moved for several seconds; they just looked at each other from across the driveway. Then, with a glance at the clock on the dashboard, Amanda started the car and pulled out of the driveway after one last wave.
On her way home, she found herself singing along with a love song on the radio, as giddy about their next non-date date as she was about her new role in that crime show.
CHAPTER 5
“Guess where I am?” Amanda asked as she drove through the studio gate and parked her car.
Her grandmother’s chuckle echoed through the headset. “Still with your yummy photographer?”
“She’s not my photographer,” Amanda said but couldn’t deny that she found Michelle yummy too. The memory of their kisses still made her tingle all over. “And I’m not with Michelle.”
Silence filled the line for a few moments.
“Having to climb behind my TV stand in her dating clothes didn’t scare her off, did it?” her grandmother asked, sounding worried.
“No. She’s not the type to be afraid of a little dust—or a meddling grandmother.”
“Meddling? Me?” When Amanda said nothing, her grandmother sighed and dropped the innocent act. “I didn’t mean to be an overprotective grandmother hen, but after talking you into calling her, I wanted to make sure she’s suitable dating material.”
“And?” Amanda asked before she could stop herself. “Is she?” Right now, she should be focusing on her new role—the chance of a lifetime—not on a relationship that might not work out, but still she held her breath as she waited for her grandmother’s reply.
“Well, let’s just say if I were fifty years younger…”
“You’d still be straight.”
“I kissed a woman once,” her grandmother said, as if it were a badge of honor.
Amanda rolled her eyes. “It was a film kiss, Grandma.”
“Everyone said I was quite convincing.”
“You were. I just hope I’ll be half as convincing in my new role.” That thought reminded her of where she was and started the nervous churning of her stomach again.
“Bah. Being eaten by a giant lizard doesn’t take much finesse. You could play that role in your sleep. Don’t worry.”
True, but playing a detective with a gambling addiction was much more challenging. The script for her character’s first episode had arrived by messenger at six o’clock this morning, and she was supposed to be in wardrobe and then makeup at eight and in front of the camera at nine.
After more than four years of no progress in her career, everything was moving at a startling pace, and Amanda just hoped that she could keep up. Almost afraid to jinx it, she took a deep breath before she said, “I’m talking about a different role. Have you seen Central Precinct?”
Her grandmother let out an unladylike snort. “Does Meg Ryan use Botox?”
Amanda grinned. “I forgot I was talking to the biggest crime show junkie since…well, ever. They just lost their female lead mid-season, and—”
“Jennifer Carson quit?” Her grandmother huffed. “That girl doesn’t have the sense God gave a bowl of soggy cornflakes. I can’t believe it. Who leaves a show like that? It could have made her career. But then again, she was never very believable as a detective. Did you see the shoes she’s wearing on the show? Who would believe she can chase down criminals on three-inch heels?”
“Um, I wouldn’t.” Amanda made a mental note to wear sensible shoes on set. Crime show fans like her grandmother apparently noticed details like that. So much to think of. Her head was spinning already, and she hadn’t even stepped in front of a camera yet.
“See? Whoever they get to replace her should—”
“They want me to replace her.”
Her grandmother’s rambling stopped immediately. “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful. Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.” The background noises sounded as if she was doing a victory dance. After a few seconds, she stopped and said, “You never told me you auditioned for that role.”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t have to audition? They gave you the role without you having to read for it? That’s like marrying someone without having had sex first.”
“Lalalala. I can’t hear you.” Amanda covered her ears, however ineffective that was, since she was wearing a headset.
Another car parked next to hers, and a curvy brunette got out.
Amanda did a double-take when she realized that it was Lorena Gonzales, who had won an Emmy for her role as the show’s medical examiner. Suddenly, she was glad that she was still sitting in the car, since her knees went weak. “I have to go, Grandma. Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it. You’ve got talent instead.”
Holding on to her grandmother’s words as if they were a lifeline, Amanda ended the call, wrapped her damp fingers around her copy of the script, and got out of the car.
Next to her, Lorena Gonzales climbed out of her convertible and gave her a friendly smile. “Hi. You’re the new detective, right? I mean…you play Linda Halliday.”
“Uh, yes. Amanda Clark.”
“Lorena Gonzales,” Lorena said unnecessarily.
They shook hands, and Amanda hoped her palm wasn’t too damp.
“Is this your first time on a TV show?” Lorena asked.
Amanda nodded. “I had a few walk-ons in daily soaps, but nothing like this.”
“Then you’d better enjoy today, because there’s an old saying: The most exciting day of your life is the first day on a set. The most boring day of your life is your second day on a set.”
Amanda’s heart was racing, and she seriously doubted that she would get bored anytime soon.
At the doubtful expression on her face, Lorena smiled. “Come on. I’ll show you the way to the makeup trailer.”
After enduring the attentions of some sadist posing as a hair stylist and studying her lines one last time while the makeup artist applied the thick stage makeup, Amanda finally made her way over to the soundstage that Lorena had pointed out earlier.
A large factory with several warehouses had been converted into a studio. The set of Central Precinct, designed to look like a police station with one of the walls missing, was a barely controlled chaos. Two technicians climbed on ladders to position the lights; stagehands rearranged a desk and a file cabinet, and production assistants shouted into their walkie-talkies.
The bearded man in the faded jeans had to be Walt Bishop, the director for most of the show’s episodes. He was talking to Lorena Gonzales and two other co-stars that Amanda had so far seen only on TV. She couldn’t help feeling like a starstruck teenager. Clearly, this was a far cry from the tampon commercials she usually did.
After straightening her shoulders, she stepped over the cables on the floor and joined them. “Mr. Bishop? Amanda Clark.”
The director turned. His gaze swept her face and then down her body, taking in the detective clothes wardrobe had given her.
Amanda fidgeted in the chocolate-colored leather jacket. It wasn’t her usual style, but she imagined it would have looked great on Michelle. Stop thinking about her and focus on your job!
