Reforming Atlanta’s Rouge: The Trouble with Dating an Actor

by McConnell, Lucy

  Lori moved to follow him out the door, her lips pressed in a firm line.

  “No, you’ve got to talk to Knight. Get that contract.”

  She put her hands on her hip. “What are you going to do, rot in a cell?”

  “I’ll call Mark—just do it, please. It’s important.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “Actors.”

  He grinned the whole way to the car, which probably didn’t look all that great in the photos his guests snapped with their cell phones. Beau Mckay being hauled off to jail and smiling about it would make the front page. But he didn’t care. Lady Luck was shining on him tonight. By noon tomorrow, he’d know the name of his mystery woman. That was a victory.

  Chapter 4

  With a heavy heart, Cindy changed the filter in the Evolved coffee machine and started a nonfat caramel latte. She’d become quite the barista over the last two years, thanks to the industrial brewer that probably cost more than her salary.

  Not for the first time, Cindy wondered how Stepmother could afford the simple pleasures, as she called them, when they couldn’t afford to pay their regular employees. The sense that another round of downsizing was on the way pervaded the office, making the staff walk on eggshells when Patricia or her daughters were in the office.

  Cindy steamed the milk. If I’m fired, I can always get a job at StarStrucks. Shrugging off her disappointment this morning was a monumental task. Articles detailing Beau’s arrest the night before hit her phone like a jackhammer. With him behind bars, Egypt’s Gold was as good as dead.

  She finished off the latte and took it and those for her stepsisters out to the receptionist’s desk.

  “Morning, Daphne.”

  “Morning. I made cookies.” Daphne held up a plate of oatmeal raisin goodness. The woman was the fairy godmother of baked goods.

  “Forbidden fruit—thanks.” Cindy took a bite, enjoying the buttery taste and thick oatmeal flavor. The fridge at home was full of field greens, celery, and protein drinks. Carbs was a bad word in the Knight household, but, heaven help her, Cindy adored them.

  The front door swung open, and Cindy stuffed the rest of the cookie into her mouth and clamped her teeth shut. She silently asked Daphne if there were crumbs on her face and Daphne shook her head.

  Tomás came in first, carrying Cha Cha, Patricia’s hairless pet, on a teal blue pillow. He kept the dog as far away from his face as possible. A good thing, since Cha Cha had a tendency to go cray cray when startled.

  Next came Drusilla in purple yoga pants, a yellow tank, and a tie-dyed headband. Her tiny chest had been squished together and thrust up, barely making a shadow over her protruding breastbone.

  Natalie was next. She wore a short black dress that dropped down in the front and even lower in the back. She had the curves to fill out what was left of the dress.

  Lastly, Stepmother entered with Breakfast-at-Tiffany’s sunglasses over her beak nose. Drusilla may have gotten her stick-like figure from her mother, but Patricia got her curves from Beverly Hills Plastic Surgery. She waved her arm magnanimously. “Today is a wonderful day for Knight Studios.”

  She tossed her silky Navajo wrap in Cindy’s face while taking the latte from her hands. Cindy used the camouflage to chew and swallow the cookie.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why, Cindy?” Patricia tottered down the hallway in her Christian Louboutin heels.

  Cindy exchanged a worried glance with Daphne and followed.

  Tomás darted out of Patricia’s office as they neared, the pooch on his favorite perch—the windowsill, where he could woof derogatorily at cars as they passed by.

  “Why is it a good day for us?” asked Cindy, her mouth unnaturally dry.

  Her stepsisters peeled off at their respective office doors with nary a look in Cindy’s direction. They didn’t ask for things to her face—they preferred to text their demands on her time.

  “The reason today is a good day is that I received a call from Beau Mckay’s agent.”

  Cindy’s heart did an erratic thud-thud-thud. Her up-close-and-personal encounter with Beau had kept her awake and invaded her dreams. If kissing him in real life was anything like kissing the dream Beau, she was an absolute fool for walking away. She tucked her trembling hands behind her back.

  “He wants to do a project with us—was quite insistent upon it.”

  Cindy’s breath caught. He’d read it! Read her work and liked it! A squeal surged inside, and she tamped it down, clamping her teeth shut. She needed to tread carefully with her stepmother. Patricia was conniving on a daily basis, but having been caught in a lie, she could come out teeth bared. She hadn’t sent the script over, and she knew it, and she knew Cindy knew it. The only thing Stepmother didn’t know was who had delivered the manuscript.

  Cindy was in a precarious predicament. “What project is that?” she asked, her face a mask of innocence.

  “Egypt’s Gold.”

  After the pool and the humiliation and the almost kiss, Cindy had gone to bed with a glimmer of hope in her heart. That glimmer was doused by Beau’s mug shot on the front page of the entertainment section. Buying alcohol for minors was bad—so bad.

  Although, Beau didn’t have any real control over the party last night. She wondered how he could be held responsible for who walked through the door. After all, she’d gotten through without so much as a sideways glance. “You know he was arrested last night, right?” She pulled up the story on her newsfeed.

  “You follow him on Twitter?” Patricia’s gray eyes turned ice cold.

  Cindy mentally cringed at her stepmother’s lack of knowledge. “This is Atlanta News.”

  Placing her palms on the desk, Patricia leaned forward. “Let’s make something clear. Beau will do this movie with Knight Studios, and you will keep a twenty-foot distance between the two of you at all times.”

  “But assisting the talent is my job.” More like slaving for her stepsisters and their friends, but the official title sounded so much prettier.

  “Drusilla will take a hiatus from filming her series. She will be Beau’s escort while he is here and lead the team.”

  Cindy bit back her protest. She should be point on this project—it was her script. No one knew it like she did—they needed her research if the film was going to be authentic. She took a deep Ujjayi breath. Who was point wasn’t as important as the movie actually being made.

  Drusilla had more in common with the women she’d seen Beau dancing with last night than Cindy did. “She’s his type,” she said quietly and more to herself than to Patricia.

  Patricia perked up. “Yes, she is.”

  Rule number three: he’s out of my league. “I’ll talk to legal about putting the contracts together.”

  “And call casting, we have five other parts to fill.”

  “Yes, Stepmother.” A thrill went up Cindy’s spine. Egypt’s Gold was happening.

  Tomás waited in her cubicle. No doubt he’d heard the whole exchange. “Why are you letting Drusilla take point on this? This is your baby,” he whispered.

  “I don’t care as long as the film gets made.” The thought of Drusilla’s pterodactyl-like arms around Beau made Cindy want to gag and claw something all at the same time.

  Tomás folded his arms. “And what about Beau Mckay?”

  “He’s just another pretty face.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Tomás!” Patricia called.

  He rolled his eyes and ducked out without saying another word.

  Cindy closed her eyes and was back in Beau’s arms—falling into his hazel pools of goodness. The sensation of melting into him flooded her body until her knee hit the file drawer. “Ouch.” She fell into her chair. Better to forget Beau Mckay and his dreamy eyes altogether and focus on keeping Knight Studios afloat.

  Her phone beeped three times in quick succession. No doubt her stepsisters were in a panic over Beau’s impending arrival. Three more texts dinged. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.”

 
; Drusilla threw clothing into Cindy’s arms, and Natalie added appointments to her calendar, and all the while Cindy grinned, thinking of how jealous they would be if they knew Beau had almost kissed her. Heck, she was jealous of her last-night self. If she had to do it all over again, she’d seize the moment with Beau. Wrap her arms around his neck, let him nuzzle hers. Trace the cleft in his chin …

  “Hello?” Natalie waved her hand in front of Cindy’s face.

  “Sorry.” Cindy’s face grew warm. “I was …” Happy. For a brief moment, the weight Cindy carried on a daily basis had disappeared, and she was happy. The feeling was almost foreign, but she liked it. Liked Beau.

  “We need reservations at The Roof Top,” said Natalie.

  “Of course.” Cindy tossed the clothing into a chair and turned to leave.

  “What are you doing?” howled Drusilla. “You can’t throw those—they’re designer.”

  Cindy gave herself a good shake. Rule number three—Beau was off limits. “I’ll get these to the cleaner right away.”

  “Don’t forget my reservation.”

  “Of course, Natalie.” Cindy hurried out. The sooner she got her errands done, the sooner she could work on Egypt’s Gold II. Although, now that Beau had been cast as the lead, she’d have a difficult time not picturing him as she wrote.

  Chapter 5

  Beau twirled his pen as Lori read through the contract. His gaze continued to drift to the glass wall behind her, where he hoped to catch a glimpse of the script girl from the night before. So far—no luck.

  As he sat waiting for Mark to pick him up from the police station, he’d thought about little else besides a pair of sapphire-blue eyes. He should probably stop calling her script girl, as she was very much a woman. A woman he’d like to get his arms around again—and soon.

  “It’s your standard contract.” Lori interrupted his musings.

  He could ask for more money. Standard was for midlist actors, and he’d left that list behind a couple years ago when he took up playing Christian Brockmore. But he didn’t want to rock the boat, and he really didn’t want to wait here for them to change the contract. After Mark bailed him out of jail this morning, he’d had less than forty minutes to shower, change, and get downtown before eleven-thirty. For some reason the contracts had to be signed by noon or the offer expired. The clock ticked.

  “That’ll work.”

  Mr. Cage, a frazzled entertainment lawyer on the other side of the table, sagged with relief. He’d probably spent the better part of the morning putting this together and expected to have to rewrite half of it. “Please sign here.” He pointed to the line with Beau’s name printed neatly below.

  Beau signed with a flourish. This film was a good move. His phone lit up with Mark’s ringtone. “I need to take this.” He excused himself and moved out into the hallway. Stepping out of a business meeting to take a personal phone call wasn’t professional, but Mark had hauled his butt out of jail just a few hours ago.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Hey, I reserved a lake house for us for a couple of days. We can invite Anthony, do some fishing—”

  —and you can get your head on straight.

  Beau grinned. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had a direction. This movie had blockbuster potential, and then there was the woman … “I appreciate that, but I just signed on with Knight for a new action film.”

  “Yeah? I thought they weren’t doing those since Robert died.”

  “Well, they’ve got something good here. I’m excited about it.”

  “Good.” Mark’s voice had that relieved tone. The one that comes when you think your friend has fallen off the deep end, and you find out he’s not an idiot.

  “I’ll let you know when we have a break in filming. We’ll hit the cabin then.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They said goodbye and hung up. Beau glanced up to see the woman who had captured his thoughts duck into a room at the end of the hall. He broke into a run, hoping to keep her from slipping away again. Bursting into an employee break room, he found her standing in front of an open fridge with an insane amount of yogurt cups lined up inside. He pulled himself together. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” The fridge door floated shut.

  They stared at one another, a need to be closer tugging at his shoes. “Thanks for bringing the script over.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, and she glanced over his shoulder at the open door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He looked her up and down. Same beautiful body, although he’d seen a lot more of her curves last night than he did this morning in her blousy skirt and top. Same posture. Same crystal-blue eyes. He grinned. “I never forget a beautiful face.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It wasn’t me. You were drinking—could have been any blonde.”

  “How do you know I was drinking if you weren’t there?”

  She twisted her lips as she tapped at her phone. When she flipped it, his mug shot stared back at him.

  He pushed it down, keeping hold of her hand. The contact only whetted his appetite, and he had to hold back the desire to take that kiss he’d been denied last night. “First of all, I don’t drink. Secondly, I didn’t invite minors to my party, they crashed it. Something you would know all about.”

  She pressed her lips together, refusing to deny the claim, but there was a hint of mischief sparkling in her eye. He was all over that. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice. “I hoped I’d see you here today.”

  “Why?” She shifted her weight, reducing the distance between them. He liked less space. He wanted a lot less space.

  “Because I like you.”

  “Why, because I didn’t fall on your lips?” Her gaze dropped to his mouth and back up again.

  He chuckled. “I’m not even sure what that means, but I like the sound of it. Maybe we could give it a try tonight—after dinner at my place?”

  “I ca—”

  “What is going on here?”

  Cindy snapped to attention. Beau twisted his neck to see a woman, barely five-foot-five in her leopard print heels, cross the small room. Her short blonde hair was streaked with gray, and her skirt only allowed minimal movement. She wasn’t young enough to cling to her twenties, but she was making a mighty effort at those thirties.

  Cindy jerked her hand out of his. “Mr. Mckay was asking for directions.”

  Mrs. Knight twittered. “That’s a relief. For a moment there I thought I heard you ask our dear, simple Cindy to dinner.” Her hand flapped against her breastbone.

  Beau stared. Cindy was anything but simple. Cindy was the most wonderfully complicated woman he had ever met. He opened his mouth to explain that to this person who obviously hadn’t spent much time with Cindy, but Cindy caught his eye. She gave her head a small shake, warning him off. He caught on quickly and amended his statement. “I was asking her about a good place to go to dinner.”

  “Drusilla will know all the best restaurants near our downtown office.”

  “Drusilla?” Beau asked.

  “My daughter.” Patricia beamed.

  Beau turned to Cindy for an explanation.

  Cindy smiled woodenly. “Mrs. Knight, this is Beau Mckay; Beau, this is Mrs. Knight, president of Knight Studios. Her daughter, Drusilla, is leading the Egypt’s Gold project.”

  Ah, the boss. “It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand, and Mrs. Knight took it, her grip sending a warning down his spine like ice down the back of his shirt.

  She hooked her arm through his and started for the door. “I can take you directly back to the conference room, Mr. Mckay. We are so thrilled you’ve decided to be part of our latest blockbuster, Beau.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see Cindy bite her lip and turn her head as if struck.

  “Can I call you Beau?” asked Mrs. Knight.

  Beau nodded. Obviously there were interoffice dynamics at play here. He didn’t want to make trouble for Cind
y.

  Cindy.

  His cheeks lifted. He had her name. Well, half her name.

  That was enough for now. He’d be in this office plenty over the next few weeks, and he planned to make the most of those visits.

  Chapter 6

  Cindy pulled the clothing out of the dryer and set it on the counter before moving the just-washed clothes to the dryer. Folding laundry wasn’t her favorite task. All right, it was her least favorite task. But at least it kept her stepfamily out of her hair. She was their laundry fairy. As far as they were concerned, the clothes magically appeared in their closets and drawers. Which was okay. You do for family—filling in when things were hard. And, they paid her a small sum for the work.

  “What are you doing?” Drusilla stomped into the room and yanked a pair of lace panties out of the clean pile. “You can’t dry these—they have to hang on a line.”

  Her dear stepsister would probably throw the panties out in a month or so anyway—she never wore anything more than three times—so it shouldn’t matter if they were tumbled dry. “Last I checked, we don’t have a laundry line.” Cindy folded a lace nightie into a perfect square and set it in Natalie’s basket.

  “Well, aren’t you precious this morning.” Stepmother’s shadow slithered across the tile floor. “A lady should never speak unless she can improve the silence.”

  Cindy doubted her thoughts would be considered an improvement, so she kept them to herself. Sometimes, the smart move was avoiding a fight. Picking a fight was the only reason either of these two would set foot in the laundry room. This is what she got for holding Beau’s hand yesterday. “Yes, Stepmother.”

  Patricia plucked the panties from Drusilla’s hand. “I would think you’d be smart enough to know how to properly care for underwear. But since even the smallest tasks overwhelm you, perhaps we should cut your hours at the office so you have more time to accomplish your work here at home.”

  Cindy lifted a hand to protest and brought it right back down. She had done some dumb things when she was younger: sliding down the banister and breaking her arm, accidentally starting a frog infestation in the swimming pool, and breaking into their rival high school’s locker room and stealing the mascot head. There were other instances, and they all added up to a bad impression.