Love Me Like You Do

by Sasha Clinton

  Love Me Like You Do

  Sasha Clinton

  Copyright © 2016 by Sasha Clinton

  First edition

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission.

  For permission requests, please contact Sasha Clinton at alicemilleromance@gmail.com

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Chelsea Kuhel

  Beta read by Liv Shredder

  Cover design by Sasha Clinton

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Notes

  Connect with the author

  Chapter 1

  Jamie hated cancelling a Tinder hookup. Especially when it happened to be with the hot brunette who’d given him three orgasms last week.

  But since all hell was currently breaking loose at the studio, he had no choice.

  Jamie: Have to cancel 2nite. C u next week?

  Without waiting for her reply, he laid his phone face down on his thigh, so he wouldn’t be distracted by messages.

  “Please tell me this is an April Fool’s joke,” he demanded, running his hands down his face, almost afraid to look up at Scarlet.

  “I wish.” Scarlet, the assistant producer of his sitcom, dropped a heavy exhale.

  “So Martina’s really gonna quit?”

  Jamie tried to reign his in panic. Admittedly, it was hard. Martina Lopez played one of the most vital secondary characters in the show—the main couple’s daughter. She had fifteen fucking lines in every episode and a ton of screen time. There was no way they could replace her.

  “She doesn’t have a choice,” Scarlet said. “She slipped in the bathroom and injured her spine badly. The doctors say she won’t be able to walk again, let alone shoot the rest of the season. It’s…horrible—both for her and us.”

  An actress injuring her spine two weeks into filming the first season of the show…what were the odds of that?

  Jamie fired a sigh. A pregnant pause settled in around him, followed by dread, anxiety, and fear.

  “Jamie, are you okay?” Scarlet jerked forward, worry painting her face.

  “Swell. Thank you for asking.” He curled his lip, fighting the heaviness threatening to smother him.

  You’re a failure.

  You’re nobody without your famous father.

  Your luck’s over.

  Slapping his arm, he tried to quieten his thoughts. He had to keep it together. He was the damn executive producer of this show. If he lost it, everything would be screwed. And he was this close to losing it.

  Feeling a monstrous headache prick against his forehead, Jamie leaned back. “What’re our options?”

  “Picking another actress. Daniel and I tried that already. Didn’t work. Nobody who showed up at the casting this morning even remotely resembled Martina.” Scarlet hesitated. “Daniel thinks rewriting the entire script to remove Martina’s character is the best way forward.”

  “Troubled Domesticity is scheduled to air nationwide in September. In two months.” Jamie said, more in an attempt to remind himself than Scarlet.

  Troubled Domesticity was his maiden sitcom and from the beginning, it had been one hitch after another. This was the first time he was doing something independent of his father and Star Studios. Everything hinged on Troubled Domesticity’s success—his future as a TV writer, his self-worth, his bank balance—everything.

  “This had to happen now, didn’t it?” Exasperation simmered under his even syllables.

  Jamie let his fingers fall over his eyelids, blanking out everything from his vision.

  Now, in the business of entertainment, things often went wrong, so this wasn’t unusual by any means. Budgets overran, actors threw tantrums, legal suits were slapped, injuries happened...and it all boiled down to one thing.

  Scarlett’s fingers grazed the sharp ends of the folder she cradled. “I’ve exhausted every option. There’s no way but for you to re-write the entire script explaining the mysterious disappearance of her character from the second episode on. Just say she died or something.”

  “Too late for that. ABC picked up the show based on the pilot featuring Martina. The producers won’t let us change the storyline now.” He angled for a doughnut from the box of Krispy Kremes on the table. Sugar was every writer’s stress medicine. “And we’re already running way over budget. We have no money to pay for re-shooting two episodes, even if we were to change the script.”

  Having a show picked up by a cable network was a one in twenty thousand chance. Literally. Not many ideas got past the rigorous winnowing process carried out by studios and network cable executives. There was no way he was blowing his chance because of a missing actress.

  “Something’s gotta give, or this show will never get made.” Scarlet chewed on her nails.

  “Guess there’s no other way, huh?” Jamie said, wiping donut glaze off his lips.

  “Hey, how about sending Lucy on a vacation to Bali? She can be gone for a few episodes.”

  “But we’ll have to bring her back sometime.”

  Scarlet held his gaze and nodded. “Fine. I’ll leave it to you to decide what you’re going to do. We shoot on Friday, though.”

  Burying his head between his hands, Jamie groaned. “And it’s Wednesday already.”

  “You can do it.” With an encouraging nod, she slipped out of the writers’ room.

  Jamie wordlessly absorbed the million pieces of colored post-its stuck on the storyboard, wishing the answer to his problem was written on one of them. But as he already knew, all that was scribbled on them were story ideas.

  Right now, he was feeling sheer respect for his father. No shit. Grant Star must be one tough man if he’d kept Star Studios profitable for twenty years. Hollywood had way more budget bleeders than TV.

  Since he didn’t have the fortitude to push through her resistance on a near-empty stomach, Jamie decided to finish the re-write for Act Three before the staff writers came in for the day. The commissioning editor had requested some edits on episode four, which the actors were going to be rehearsing next week.

  Halfway in, he realized that he was only spacing out, so Jamie stepped out of the writer’s room for a break. Maybe he needed to get some fresh air and think about things from a different perspective. Have a few moments of quiet privacy. Ideas often came to him at such—

  “Jamie!”

  Rosie’s high-pitched yell drew out some more of his frustration.

  As soon as her electric blue eyes registered his form, she skipped to him, white heels making loud taps on the corridor floor.

  Privacy was an impossibility on a set where Rosie existed.

  “Jamie, I was looking for you.”

  He hastily tried to remove himself from where he was, before she could coil her arms around him. But his reflexes were too slow. She latched onto him before he could blink.

  In keeping with her character on the show, a rebellious teen also called Rosie, sh
e wore white-heeled boots and a black leather miniskirt that hugged her body so tight, it could have crushed her bones. Her crop top’s neck showed off her freckled cleavage while the cake of makeup on her face left her features smothered.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?” Jamie inquired, trying to get her away.

  In some other lifetime, she must’ve been a leech and unfortunately, she was carrying those memories into this incarnation.

  “Nope. Taking a break. Let’s walk together.” With her hooked onto him, did he have any choice but to go with her?

  Now, he wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why Rosie was so ‘friendly’ with him. Her type was relatively easy to peg—the ultra-ambitious, I’ll-sleep-with-anyone-to-get-to-the-top actress.

  This sitcom was Rosie’s first big role, and she wanted to ensure it wouldn’t be her last.

  She no doubt knew who his father was, and more specifically, what he could do for an actress’s career. Rachel Welch, Tiana Cruise, Adriana Victorelli—Grant Star had turned those obscure faces into A-listers.

  “Don’t you think I’d be great as Annie in the movie adaptation of Seventeen Summers? I look exactly like Rollins describes Annie in the novel—an ethereal beauty with a face that could make angels weep in jealousy. I was born for the role. By the way, isn’t Star Studios producing the movie?”

  Yup. Right on the money.

  “They already signed Lily Adkins for Annie’s role.” Jamie popped her little bubble.

  Rosie didn’t flinch. She stuck even closer to his side and squeezed her claws around his arm. “Jamie, you know we’re friends, right? And friends help each other. If there’s any movie your dad’s casting for, you’ll tell him about me, won’t you?”

  He was tempted to inform her that one-sidedly pressuring someone was not friendship.

  Instead, Jamie kept his reply sparse. “I don’t talk much to him these days.”

  “But you can talk to him for me, can’t you?” She egged, trailing one feather-light touch on his wrist.

  “Mmmm.”

  That was neither a yes nor a no, but it satisfied Rosie. As a producer and writer of the show, his job was to keep everybody happy. Rosie was an important part of the cast. They’d lost one actress already. They didn’t need another one walking away.

  And Rosie was a pretty good actress, unlikeable as she might be.

  “Great. That’s what friendship’s about.” Flashing a wide grin, Rosie let go of his arm.

  Since her mission was accomplished, she probably didn’t see much sense in hanging around him any longer, so making the first excuse that sprung to her mind, she granted him his precious moments of solitude.

  Those moments of solitude were short lived. His ringtone broke the silence.

  Gage calling. Jamie shuddered and hesitated before giving in.

  Gage had once been a child star, who’d acted in his greatest blockbuster, The Fall. Jamie had involuntarily taken up the role of his big brother because he’d felt bad for the kid. Six years later, he was still playing big brother. But now Gage was not a sweet, nice boy. He was a wild party animal who frequently had brushes with the law for assault, drugs, and a DUI or three.

  “Hello.” Jamie dreaded what was coming.

  “Brah, get to 13th precinct ASAP. The cops hauled me in for battery. The fuckers are tryna lock me up. Get your hands off me, fucker. I don’t care if you have a badge!”

  With the wall being so close, Jamie couldn’t resist banging his head against it.

  This was the third time this year that Gage was asking him to make a sudden trip to the precinct.

  “Who did you hurt this time?” Jamie barked, letting the rising groan of frustration out of his throat.

  “No one. This is all a fucking misunderstanding. Explain it to them, and do it ASAP. Sahara’s single release party is at five. Can’t miss my girl’s big day.”

  Jamie had the urge to tell him that his girlfriend’s single release party should be the least of his concerns. But since no teen liked to hear the reality, Jamie pacified him with an, “I’m coming.”

  A cancelled date, an injured actress, and a trip to the precinct.

  Just a normal day in the life of Jamie Star.

  Chapter 2

  What were the odds of meeting your future husband at Trader Joe’s?

  Because that might’ve just happened. Seriously.

  “Hi, I was wondering if....” Bella stammered to the cute guy she’d spotted checking out Brussel spouts.

  Tall. Check.

  Hot. Check.

  Not texting. Check.

  Blue eyes. Check.

  Buys expensive food he’s probably never gonna eat. Check.

  “If you were interested in....”

  Don’t, don’t, don’t. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by approaching a random stranger, telling him that she found him sexy and giving him her number. Only desperate women did that.

  Well, she was desperate. But still.

  No, she needed to start a conversation. Flirt up a storm. Get him to ask for her number.

  “...interested in telling me where you found those—” Scanning his cart, she named the first item she saw. “…carrots?”

  “They’re right here,” he said, pointing to the heaps of carrots that were right under her nose.

  Wow, that was embarrassing.

  “Thanks.” Bella moistened her lips, hoping that would take his attention off her stupidity. “You know...I’m visually impaired sometimes.”

  Wait...what was she saying? She wasn’t visually impaired. “I mean, I can see well most of the time, but I can’t see well sometimes.”

  “Medical condition?” His voice was sympathetic.

  Her nod was embarrassingly vigorous. “Right.”

  “What’s it called?” Interest flickered in his gray eyes. “If you don’t mind telling me. I’m a doctor. An ophthalmologist. I’ve never heard of a condition like yours. I’m curious.”

  Bella’s flirtatious grin slid right off her face. Of everything he could be, he had to be an ophthalmologist, didn’t he? Why was her luck so screwed?

  “I don’t know what it’s called...um...are you shopping by yourself?” she stammered, trying to divert him from her medical condition.

  Diversion always worked.

  He shrugged casually. “With my partner. He’s over there.”

  His gaze darted to a man by the freezer. Equally handsome. Equally gay.

  She should’ve seen that coming.

  “Great.” Bella’s voice dropped faster than the price of stocks in a recession. “Nice talking to you.”

  Turning on her heel, she almost raced down the aisle, not even stopping for Cookie Butter, which she knew she needed to get. Her lip jutted out as she closed her eyes, and her inner critic started nagging her. She was such an idiot sometimes.

  Not paying attention, she stopped when she bumped into something hard.

  A shoulder. Someone’s shoulder. Before she could blink, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  The clearest pair of blue eyes she’d ever encountered appraised her, and she tumbled back, involuntarily.

  As she sized him up, she wondered how on earth she had missed a guy like this. Young, good-looking, with no boyfriend or girlfriend clinging to his arm. No ring, either.

  “No problem.” The words somehow left her open jaw.

  He wasn’t Greek god handsome. But he was cute. In a movie star sort of way. In a Bryan Singer sort of way.

  Do not think about your ex.

  Of course, he could be gay like the previous one, in a committed relationship, mentally ill, have STDs, be abusive, deep in debt, a cheater, or all of the above.

  “Hi.” Flipping her tone to seductive, Bella took her chance.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Besides, she had a good feeling about this one.

  His eyes widened, then popped. “You....you’re the one! You’re the one I’ve been looking for.”

  Clasping her shoul
ders, he held onto her with his focused gaze.

  “Uh? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  That had turned weird quickly. All she’d been hoping for was a hi, but this was a lot more than a hi.

  Bella blinked rapidly as he cleared his throat, embarrassed, and removed his hands from her. “Today’s my lucky day.” His face lit up with a childish grin. “Hey, I know I’m springing this out of the blue, but do you have a moment?”

  For a moment, the everything else flew out of her mind. The world around faded to black and the sounds died, like that scene from Love Me Like You Do, the one where Maddie met Damien for the first time on Wine Beach and knew that he was the one for her. She even heard the metaphoric azure waves crashing against the shore.

  Only the guy in front of her remained.

  Was this happening?

  Was a cute (and kinda sexy) guy trying to talk to her in Trader Joe’s?

  Maybe all the law of attraction visualizations and positive affirmations she’d been practicing for the last two months were finally working. Had the universe decided it was time to send her the soulmate she’d been praying for?

  Although she’d been visualizing Leonardo DiCaprio putting a ring on a finger, she could recalibrate her expectations a little.

  Okay, a lot.

  “I wouldn’t—” Before Bella could finish, he smiled.

  Her heart sank to her flabby ankles. There was nothing wrong with his teeth—they were as good as anybody’s—but he had dimples.

  Bryan had had dimples. After their breakup, she’d sworn not to date anybody who would remind her of Bryan. No cocky players, Don Juans, musicians, artists, painters, poets, or sensitive types. And absolutely no dimples.

  “I...appreciate your interest in me, but I’m not single.” She flipped her hair back to make a statement.

  His eyes stilled in deep surprise. Frowning, he said, “I’m not hitting on you.”

  “No? Cause it definitely seems that way to me.”

  He pinned her with his gaze. “Look, this is not how I usually roll, but…I really need you. Your body, your face. It’s the exact one I’m looking for. And I can pay you for it…er…I mean the use of it…I mean for you to use it. Fuck, none of this is coming out right.”