Ding.
He would’ve been completely done, totally cooked.
He would’ve pulled her onto his lap. Or, okay, even if he hadn’t, even if he’d showed amazing restraint and she’d only knelt on the floor next to him, her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair. . . .
Ah, God.
His mouth would’ve been only inches from hers and . . .
Bad, bad idea.
Kissing the client while on duty was not good. Not good at all.
Cosmo took another step back now, farther away from her.
“So is that why you’re here? To pick up that suit?” she asked.
Huh?
“From the costume department?” she elucidated.
“Oh, right, no.” He had to laugh. “No, Jane, that’s, you know, not . . . I’m not . . . I’m here because we’re checking out everyone who has access to the set. It’s time-consuming, but we have to do it. Process of elimination—make sure the guy we’re after isn’t right under our nose. I think I’m supposed to make copies of something.”
“Of our extras casting file.” Jane nodded. “I’ll show you where it is, except, oh. You know what? Why don’t you wait here for Patty.”
“Oh, sure,” Cosmo said. “Yeah, of course. You’re busy. I’m sorry.” He’d already been enough of a time drain, and no doubt a total pain in the ass.
“No,” she said, moving closer. Close enough to touch his arm. Her fingers were cool against his skin, and it was all he could do not to jump straight up into the air. “It’s just . . . we probably shouldn’t spend too much time together in public. Alone, I mean. You know, ‘Don’t throw bouquets at me . . .’ ” She sang the opening lines to the old Rodgers and Hammerstein classic “People Will Say We’re in Love.”
She had a nice voice. It was nothing too special—she was certainly no Broadway diamond in the rough. It was just . . . sweetly pleasant.
“The cast and crew are prone to gossip. They don’t seem to understand that a man and a woman can be friends,” Jane continued. “And since I’m working hard to undo the damage from the press conference . . .”
She’d stopped touching his arm, but she was still standing close enough so that he couldn’t breathe without smelling her subtle perfume. He couldn’t tell what it was—only that there was a hint of vanilla in it. And coffee. And lemon and . . . She smelled delicious.
“Let’s plan to meet at noon,” she suggested, gazing up at him. “Down in Costume, where no one will see us. I’ll get Jack to help pick out the right suit and . . .” She smiled, the outer edges of her gorgeous eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
Cosmo realized he was standing there smiling at her like a fool, just completely over the moon as far as she was concerned. The singing had clinched it.
Yeah, he was standing there, adoring her, despite the fact that she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend.
Friends—yeah, right, Jane. Like this pull he was feeling was purely one-sided. Electricity practically crackled around them when their eyes met. That was not a one-sided side effect.
“What’s the big joke?” she asked again, laughing a little, her eyes sparkling. “Share it, Chief. Don’t hold back.”
He almost did it.
He almost herded her back into the dark corner of that hallway, pressed her up against the wall, lowered his mouth to hers, and proved to her that there was way more than friendship between them.
Light flooded the area as the door to the outside opened. It reminded him of that time he had been wearing night vision goggles and someone suddenly turned on their truck headlights right in his face.
He fumbled to put his sunglasses back on. He was bah-lind.
And deafened by Patty, who was shrieking with laughter as she followed Robin inside.
“. . . a minute there—ha ha ha—I actually believed you had a real thing for Adam,” she was saying. She laughed again, much too loudly and merrily, but Robin didn’t join in.
“Crap,” he said instead, trying to see his watch in what was for him, no doubt, sudden dimness. “I’m late for makeup. Janey, this time it’s not my fault.”
“Get down there,” Jane ordered him. “Go. Patty, stay!”
Robin took his backpack from Patty and went out the door.
“I mean, we can check them out, of course,” Jules Cassidy was saying to Decker as they, too, came inside. Jack Shelton trailed behind them. “We should check them out—along with everyone who’s been issued an open-ended press pass by HeartBeat.”
“Please tell me I’ve misunderstood what you’re saying,” Jane interrupted him, “and that those clowns from the National Voice have not been given a press pass”—it was obvious from Jules’ and Decker’s faces that she hadn’t misunderstood at all—“by those raging idiots at HeartBeat. Why would they do that?”
As Jack Shelton offered his opinion, Decker pulled Cosmo aside. It wasn’t quite far enough from the others for a proper dressing-down. That would come later.
“There’s some real irony here,” his team leader told him.
“I know, Chief.” Cos was known on the Teams for his ability to be dead silent. He was capable of going days—weeks, really—without uttering a single word. “It won’t happen again.”
“Next time,” Decker said, “if there is a next time, you need to say ‘No comment’ and walk away.”
“I will. I should have.”
Deck wasn’t done. “You don’t touch them, Cos. You don’t get within five feet of them. You lay hands on them, it’s their payday. You know this.”
He did. These bastards were experts when it came to never throwing the first punch. They were also card-carrying members of Litigation Nation, whose motto was “Sue first, figure out the damages later.”
“Don’t screw around with your career—or Tom’s reputation,” Decker told him.
“Heard and understood, Chief.”
“Excuse me. If you’re ready,” Patty said to Cosmo, “I’ll show you that extras file.”
She was waiting by the door, radiating impatience, and Cosmo headed toward her. Still, he couldn’t resist one last glance at Jane, who—hot damn—was watching him walk away.
He must have smiled, because she smiled back, and his heart did a slow somersault in his chest.
Friend, client—he didn’t give a damn how their relationship was officially defined. Bottom line was that he loved it when she smiled. As much as he wanted to run his tongue over every inch of her naked body—or lie back and close his eyes while she did the same to him—he also knew he’d be perfectly happy just to sit in a room with her, talking to her, listening to her laughter, watching her smile.
She touched her watch and quirked an eyebrow.
Meet at noon, she’d said.
Cos nodded once. Oh, yeah. He remembered.
He was so there.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
“H ey, J. Welcome back to the set!”
Robin turned to see Adam heading toward them. Shit. What was he doing here?
Robin was escorting Jules down the back hallway off the soundstage—the one that led to both Janey’s and Patty’s offices. They were in search of a quiet space with a power outlet where Jules could plug in his cell phone.
The FBI agent’s battery had run out because he’d had to share a hotel room with his boss last night. The ensuing panic—What if he hates my underwear? What if he ate beans for dinner? What if he snores like Elmer Fudd and my laughter keeps waking him up?—had created a certain amount of brain fade.
Apparently Jules’ formidable team leader, Max Something, was the result of a three-way between Emma Peel, Einstein, and the Energizer Bunny, with the possibility of a small, superpower-inducing nuclear accident tossed in.
Mysterious, brilliant, unstoppable, fabulous, fair-minded, tough, powerful, brilliant, brilliant, and, oh, had Jules mentioned that
Max was brilliant?
The adverbs—or were they adjectives? Fuck it, Robin could never keep that straight. Whatever they were, they really flew when Jules described the man.
There was also this kind of quiet reverence involved in the utterance of Max’s name that, for some reason, really pissed him off.
Robin was almost jealous.
Well, okay, he was jealous, but not in, like, a gay way. He was jealous because he could live to be 500, and no one would ever say his name with that amount of devotion and respect.
Except maybe Patty.
Who certainly wouldn’t use the world brilliant four times as she attempted to describe him to one of her friends, so it just wasn’t the same.
Crap, he still hadn’t talked to Patty.
His plan was to set up a dinner date way, way in the future—claim they were both too busy to get together before then. That would get her off his back. He could use the breathing room to figure out what he was going to say when they did sit down together. Obviously So, hey, remember how I thought I was madly in love with you? Well, I suspect it was only a virus because I’m feeling much better now was not the right approach.
Although it was clear that running and hiding from her forever was not the solution, either.
It took up far too much of his time and energy.
When Robin had first led Jules into this hallway, looking for a quiet place to make a phone call, the sounds of life coming from Patty’s office had scared the bejesus out of him. But Patty wasn’t in there, thank you, God. It was just Janey’s Navy SEAL, Cosmo, using the copying machine.
“You can use Jane’s office,” he told Jules, focusing on the main problem at hand—the fact that Jules needed to make a call to Washington.
At least that had been the main problem before Adam appeared.
The big irony was that Robin had just finished telling Jules that they weren’t filming any of Jack’s scenes until tonight—the obvious subtext of his message being that he could relax. Adam wouldn’t be around at all today.
Unless, of course, he made a special effort to come to the studio because he was hoping to bump into—who else?—Jules.
Cue Adam. Enter stage left. “Hey, J. Welcome back to the set!” As if this was Adam’s movie, and Jules was his personal guest. As if Jules hadn’t been here before Adam even walked into the casting director’s office. As if Adam hadn’t used Jules shamelessly just to get that audition.
Although, okay. Janey was right about the little shithead. He was a tremendously powerful actor. The few scenes Robin had already shot with him had been awesome. But when “Cut” was called, when the scene was finished and the AD dismissed them, Robin moved fast to get out of chat range.
Adam as Jack was terrific, but Adam as Adam was loathsome.
“Well, well,” Robin said. “Isn’t this an unpleasant surprise.”
Adam ignored him. He’d apparently decided to go with the happy-go-lucky, absolutely nothing is wrong approach, as opposed to the repentant and apologetic grovel.
“How was your trip?” he asked Jules cheerfully. He always dressed like a gay Fonzie—faded blue jeans, pristine tight white T, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, biker boots.
As if he’d ever even been within spitting distance of a real motorcycle.
Yet it was clear he’d made an effort to look good today—his hair was carefully tousled, and the way he was carrying his jacket accentuated his well-defined biceps.
“I missed you,” Adam continued, giving Jules more of that same big smile. “Did you get my messages? I’m sorry I called so often. I couldn’t tell if I was getting through.” He tossed his jacket over several sawhorses that had been stacked near the wall and continued the rest of the way with his arms outstretched. “How about my scoring this role of Jack, huh? Pretty amazing. Of course, I have you to thank, totally.”
“Yeah, well,” Jules said, lifting his briefcase, using it as a rather obvious shield to prevent Adam from throwing his arms around him in an enthusiastic embrace. “Congratulations.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?” Adam was working his ass off to keep this light. He actually managed to make his eyes sparkle with amusement. “Congratulations? This is huge, J. This is why I came out to California—for a chance like this. And it’s all thanks to you.”
What a fool. Robin didn’t know the FBI agent all too well, but it was beyond obvious that Adam’s doing a face-to-face here, in public, at work no less, was the dead-last thing Jules would want.
“Gee, and here I thought you came out to California for the sex,” Robin said to Adam.
Who turned and looked at him with wariness in his eyes.
What fun. He had apparently hit close to the truth with that sex comment, and now Adam was trying to gauge just how friendly Robin and Jules had become.
“Will you excuse us, please?” Adam asked him oh so politely.
“Not a chance.” Except now Jules was looking at him in surprise, too. “Unless, you know, Jules wants me to go,” Robin added.
There was silence then—well, if you could call the sound of that ancient copy machine running silence—while Jules stood motionless. Robin cursed himself for giving him a choice. It was obvious he had a serious weakness where Adam was concerned.
“This isn’t the time or place for this,” Jules said.
“Yeah, it sort of is,” Adam said. “Considering I have no idea where you’re staying and you won’t return my calls. Where else am I going to get a chance to talk to you?” He must’ve decided there was a shade too much pissy whiner in his voice, because he stopped himself. Smiled a smile that was amazingly genuine seeming. “I have so much to tell you, J. Have you seen the script? I’m in almost every scene. And oh, my God, I’m actually doing an interview with Out magazine tomorrow morning and I just found this great new apartment and . . . It’s unbelievable how much my life has changed in just a few days. Look, it’s almost noon. Let’s go have lunch. My treat.”
For some reason, that made Jules laugh. But it faded far too quickly, and then all he looked was tired. “I can’t. It’s too late.”
Adam played dumb. “No, it’s not. It’s only 11:45.”
“You know that’s not what he meant,” Robin said.
Adam got hostile, which was pretty cocky considering Robin had at least forty pounds on him. “Why don’t you let him speak for himself?”
“Why don’t you start listening to what he’s saying? Of course, you’ll have to stop talking about yourself in order to do that.” Robin made talky-talky motions with both of his hands. “Blah, blah, blah, me, me, me . . .” He was channeling Harve now. This was awesome. He had to call his agent and ask him to find another gay role. Someone who wasn’t completely repressed this time.
“Fuck you!” Adam laughed as he said it, his subtext clear: What an asshole.
It took one to know one, didn’t it, Tiny?
Robin straightened to his full height, which made him tower above Adam. He could crush the little faggot like a bug. He took a menacing step closer. Got loud. “Fuck you.”
Jules, shorter than them both, pushed between them, one hand on each to keep them apart. “Stop.”
Cosmo stuck his head out of Patty’s office, surveyed the situation, and disappeared again. Obviously, the SEAL felt that he wasn’t needed.
“Are you seriously with this guy?” Adam asked Jules, incredulity pouring off each word. This time he didn’t leave it to subtext. “What an asshole!”
Robin was aware as hell of Jules’ hand warm against his chest, applying pressure, as if he could keep Robin from kicking the shit out of Adam.
He tried to take a step forward, but he couldn’t—Jules was an unmovable rock.
A rock who shot Robin a warning look. “Don’t prove him right.”
Dude might’ve been short, but make no mistake, Robin was not going to get past him. Of course not. Jules was an FBI agent. He just happened to be a short one who smelled really good.
; So okay, pushing Adam against the wall and making him beg for his life wasn’t an option here.
Robin would have to use words to scare him.
“It’s not serious yet,” Robin said to Adam, complete with a much-too-sweet smile, right over Jules’ head. “Jules and me. But maybe it will be—after tonight.”
Both Adam and Jules turned and looked at him in surprise. He ignored Adam, making his smile warmer now as he gazed at Jules. Flirty. With a hint of I-dare-you. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you, but I’m going clubbing tonight. Research, you know? Want to come?”
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