Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel

by Melonie Johnson

  For better or for worse, those choices had brought her here. To this moment. This movie could put her on the path to joining the ranks of her idols. Playing Jamie could help her become what she’d always dreamed of: the leading lady in a Hollywood hit.

  No pressure, right?

  If she sifted past all that, Sadie knew it wasn’t just the future of her career that had her panicking. Right now, the critics and the reviewers and the box office numbers were a distant rumble. A problem for tomorrow.

  No, her current freak-out was centered on one person. The man who would be watching her every move today.

  Again, Sadie considered Ana’s advice. Should she try it? Open her Bo box on purpose and tap into those feelings? It was too personal. Too dangerous. What if she lost control and couldn’t get the lid back on? What then?

  Better to keep her emotions tucked away. Do things the way she’d always done them. Compartmentalize.

  * * *

  Bo watched as Sadie went through the paces in a fight scene involving a trio of generic villains. She ducked under a punch, the timing smooth and perfect. Villain Number One finished swinging, the weight of his body sending him tumbling. As Villain Number Two charged forward, Sadie pulled out of her crouch, pivoting on her left foot as she swept her right leg up in a roundhouse kick aimed at his solar plexus.

  Again, the timing was exact, and played out as choreographed, down to the millisecond. The guy went flying backward, tumbling onto the crashmat. On a technical level, the sequence had been perfect. But something was missing.

  Bo rubbed a hand over his face and gave the signal to run the sequence again. This was supposed to be an easy first day. But as he watched Sadie move through the choreography, he knew something wasn’t right.

  “Cut!” Sylvia ordered, pulling off her headphones.

  Maybe the director sensed something was off too. Bo let out a breath. Good. Well, not good, exactly, but at least he wasn’t imagining problems where there weren’t any. He was finding it hard to be objective today—being around Sadie so much was fucking with his head. Making him doubt his instincts.

  Sylvia hopped down from her perch and crossed to the actors, her assistant Tanya trailing behind her. “What’s the problem, MG?”

  “Nothing.” Sadie glanced at the director. A flicker of unease passed over her face. “Why? Was something wrong with the take?”

  “The timing was flawless, the choreography spot-on.” Sylvia rubbed her fingers together, as if trying to conjure an explanation out of thin air. “But we’re missing something.” She turned to Bo. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

  Bo moved closer, mentally reviewing the footage. As the scene played back in his mind, he realized what had been bothering him. “Yeah.” He nodded at Sadie. “Her punches don’t look real.”

  Beside him, Sadie sputtered. He swore he could feel her hackles rising. Bo jerked a thumb at his trio of fighters. “They’re doing their job and selling the hits.” He shifted his gaze in Sadie’s direction. “But I’m not buying your delivery.”

  “He’s right, MG.” Sylvia frowned, her gaze bouncing back and forth between them. “Why don’t you take a minute and go over the choreo a few more times? I’ll have the crew take five.”

  “But,” Sadie began.

  Decision made, the director walked off, telling her assistant to announce a break.

  By the way Sadie bristled, back going ramrod straight, jaw clenching in a smile that was all teeth, Bo could tell she hadn’t appreciated his critique of her performance.

  There’d always been so much pride in her—an endless need to prove herself.

  And the thing was, he knew she could do this. The pieces were all there. She just needed a little push. Something to get her fire going.

  The thought gave Bo an idea. A slow smile spread across his face. Just like when they were kids, the fastest way to get Sadie to do something was to tell her she couldn’t.

  But he had to play it just right.

  Bo adjusted his features, hiding his grin and furrowing his brow in concern. “I don’t know if I can make this work.” He heaved a sigh, adding a little extra tsk of frustration for her benefit. “You’re not ready.”

  “What did you say?” Sadie stiffened and turned to stare at him.

  “I said, you’re not ready.” Bo held his ground, even though her stricken face looked as if she’d been the one hit in the solar plexus by a roundhouse kick—delivered by him.

  “Of course, I am.” She glared, eyes narrowed, mouth pinched, ready to spit nails. “I spent my entire summer preparing for this role, hours of conditioning, followed by more hours of training.”

  “Exactly. That’s your problem.”

  “What are you talking about?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Don’t look. Bo did his best to ignore how the shift of her body pressed her breasts together, soft creamy curves threatening to spill over the tight line of the leather vest she wore. He had to hand it to the costume designer, the sight alone was worth the price of admission. “I’ll show you.” He jogged over to grab one of the prop dummies.

  He set the life-size weighted foam figure in front of Sadie. “Punch it.”

  With a glare that said she’d rather punch him, she did what he asked. Dropping into a fighter’s crouch, Sadie drew her fist back and slammed it into the dummy.

  It was a good hit, he’d give her that. And her form was perfect. But it was missing heat.

  “Harder,” Bo ordered.

  Sadie pulled back and drove her fist forward again.

  “Harder,” he repeated, wanting to goad her, push her. “You’re not trying, princess.”

  “I am trying!” Sadie’s back stiffened. “Don’t tell me I’m not trying.” Her arms shot out, jabbing choppily at the dummy’s torso. “And don’t call me princess.”

  “Loosen up.” He wrapped a hand around one of her tight fists. The scrape of her knuckles against his palm was electrifying. Bo cleared his throat, covering his reaction with a gruff command. “This isn’t the gym. You’re not wearing gloves. You’re going to break a finger.”

  “I’ll give you a finger,” Sadie muttered, jerking out of his grip.

  Bo chuckled. There she was. There was his little bee, the sharp sting of her temper, the fire he used to know. Nice to see it was still inside her. It was that fire that likely drew Sylvia to cast Sadie in the role of Jamie. He just needed to coax it out of her. “Relax,” he told her, making a point to keep his own voice overtly calm and cool. A tactic he was betting would have the opposite effect on her.

  He was right.

  Infuriated, she drew back her arm and swung, fist smashing into the dummy’s torso.

  “Is that all you got, princess?” he taunted.

  Taking a step forward, Sadie threw another punch. A wicked right hook that took him by surprise. “Not bad,” he observed. Even though Bo was damn impressed, he purposely kept any note of approval or praise from his voice as he moved to stand behind her. “Again.”

  She grunted, clearly pissed now, and swung again.

  “That’s it.” Bo spoke low in her ear. “That’s my girl.” He felt more than saw the shiver ripple through her.

  Awareness radiated between their bodies, an undercurrent of tension.

  “I’m not your girl,” she snapped, whirling around to face him, eyes blazing. “What’s the point of all this, anyway? I told you, I spent my entire summer learning how to throw a punch.”

  “Fake punches,” he snorted.

  “Yeah, I’m acting. It’s supposed to be fake.”

  “You know what happens when you learn to throw a fake punch?” Bo stared down at her. “It looks fake.”

  “R-i-i-i-g-h-t,” she spoke slowly, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “it’s supposed to.”

  “No. It’s supposed to look real.”

  “You’re saying you want me to throw real punches?” Sadie crossed her arms over her chest again. “I think the other actors might take issue with
that.”

  “No.” As if pulled by an invisible string, his gaze dropped to her cleavage. “I’m saying I want you to learn how to throw a real punch.”

  “Weren’t you listening? I told, you. I spent the summer—”

  “That’s practice, not passion,” he said. “You need to know what it feels like.”

  “The script calls for my character to take an arrow to the shoulder,” she sniped, “should we shoot me with one of those for real too?” She leaned toward him, breasts straining against the front of her leather vest.

  Bo swallowed. She had to know what she was doing. What it was doing to him. “Why would we do that?” he asked, forcing his attention back up to her face.

  “So I know what it feels like.”

  “If we need to,” he began, deciding to yank her chain. “Sure. Thanks for the suggestion.”

  Her eyes flew to his, wide with horror.

  “I’m joking,” he assured her, pleased to have regained the upper hand.

  “That’s your idea of a joke?” she spat. “Someone needs to work on his sense of humor.”

  “I’ve been told that before,” he agreed, mouth quirking.

  “You take things too seriously.” Sadie studied his face, violet eyes probing, as if she were trying see into his head. Read his thoughts. “Always have.”

  Bo was quiet for a long moment. It was the first time since the table read she’d acknowledged their past. Finally, he said, “I take my job very seriously.” He moved even closer, filling her space. He liked that she stood her ground, didn’t shy away. “Something you should appreciate as it’s what’s going to keep you safe.” His eyes caught hers. “All I’m asking is that you trust me, okay?”

  “Oh, is that all? You, of all people, are asking for my trust?”

  Her bitter laugh hit him in the gut harder than any punch she’d thrown today. Bo’s jaw clenched. Their conversation had shifted in a direction he wasn’t prepared to go. There was a lot they needed to talk about. But not here. Not now. Struggling against the impulse to touch her again, he ran a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about us, Sadie. This is about my job. And yours.”

  She breathed in, slow and deep, the rise and fall of her breasts … hypnotic.

  A brisk cough snapped Bo out of his trance. He glanced up to see Tanya standing behind Sadie, lips pinched. Nicely done, dumbass. Jesus, she must think he was a total perv. Not the reputation he was looking to build.

  “Sylvia wants to get started again in five,” the assistant said, tapping her pen against her clipboard.

  “Got it.” Bo nodded.

  Sadie glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks, Tanya.”

  After the assistant and her clipboard had scurried off, Bo cocked an eyebrow at Sadie. “Well, princess? What’s it going to be?”

  “Fine.” Sadie narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips. “I’ll trust you.” After a beat she added, “As my stunt coordinator.”

  “Good enough,” he said, a bastion of willpower as he kept his gaze locked on hers. He had to pull it together. She was right. He was her stunt coordinator. Time to do his fucking job and keep his eyes—and his mind—off her tits.

  “I’ll make this quick,” Bo said briskly, getting down to business. “The thing you need to remember is that unlike getting stabbed with a knife or, say, shot with an arrow, which is all about reaction, throwing a punch is all about intent, what emotion drives the action.”

  “I understand that.” She cocked her stubborn little chin at him.

  “Yeah? Then show it. I wasn’t seeing any emotion from you in the scene. There wasn’t any passion, any fire. You were too focused on the mechanics.” Bo shook his head. “Get out of your own way by getting out of your head. Let loose. Feel it more. Let it flow through you.”

  Her mouth twisted in a curious half smile. “Use the Force?”

  Bo’s breath caught as dozens of memories flipped through his brain at hyperspeed. His pulse jumped to light speed. A Star Wars reference? She was going to kill him. He pulled it together and cocked a smile at her. “Yeah. Exactly.” He crossed his arms and ran with her little joke. “Trust your instincts. Obi Wan knew his shit.”

  Sadie laughed and the sound rippled through him, lighting up places that had long been dark. She looked up at him, violet eyes glinting with something other than irritation … something he couldn’t quite figure out.

  Whatever it was, he liked it. Bo’s chest swelled, filling with a warm glow. “Think you’re ready now?”

  She nodded. Her smile was fierce, her face determined. “I’m ready, flyboy.”

  “Then let’s try it again,” he said, unable to keep an answering smile from his face as the warmth spread all through him. “For real this time.”

  CHAPTER 7

  EXHAUSTED, SADIE HURRIED to catch the “L.” Her butt had barely hit the seat when it started buzzing. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, ready to click ignore, but stopped when she saw Ana’s face on the screen. She slid her thumb over the answer key. “What?”

  “Hello to you too, sunshine,” Ana replied. “Where are you?”

  “Heading home.”

  “You’re done filming for the day?”

  “Yeah,” Sadie grumbled. “Finally.”

  “Great, I’ll tell the girls we’ll see you soon.”

  “What?” The question was more of a yawn.

  “It’s Monday,” Ana reminded her. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Shit.” Sadie slumped into her seat. Margarita Monday. “I forgot.”

  “What? It’s Bonnie’s last night in the States!” Ana said.

  “Yeah, I know, I know.” Sadie stifled another yawn. “I’ll be there.” She peered out the grimy window of her train car. “Give me about twenty minutes.”

  Eighteen minutes later, Sadie slid into the booth next to her friends at their favorite Mexican restaurant, a place they’d been frequenting since college, when the Monday tradition first began. Over the years, everyone had to miss the weekly meet-up sometimes, but Sadie had missed out the most. Moving to New York after graduation, she’d only made it occasionally when she was in town for a visit.

  It had been nice falling back into the old routine. To have the whole gang together again. After their jaunt overseas for Cassie’s wedding last month, for the first time since college, the five of them had managed to meet consistently for the rest of the summer. But the reunion would be ending soon. Delaney’s fall semester at a preschool in the burbs had started, and she wouldn’t be able to make it into the city as often. Sadie’s film schedule would be keeping her busy, and Ana’s catering business would be picking up for the holidays. Cassie had Logan, her newlywed hot Scot husband to entertain and a thriving career in broadcast journalism. And tomorrow, Bonnie was headed for England, to move in with her new fiancé.

  “When’s the wedding going to be?” Sadie asked, pushing the basket of tortilla chips out of reach.

  “Are you planning to have it here in the States or in the UK?” Delaney wondered. “Because if you have it over there, and we end up all together back in England for a third year in a row, that will just be bananapants.” She knocked back the rest of her drink and waved at their waitress for a refill. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Ooh, you and Theo could get married on a boat on the Thames, since that’s where you two first met.” Ana’s emerald eyes twinkled. “Then it really would be just like Ariel and Prince Eric.”

  “Slow down. We haven’t set a date yet.” Bonnie stared at the antique gold band on her finger, her cheeks turning the same shade of ruby as the garnet stone in the center of the setting.

  “Uh-oh,” Cassie began, brow furrowing with concern. “Not this again.”

  “What is it with dudes proposing and then stalling on setting a date?” Delaney huffed, taking the fresh pitcher of margaritas from the waitress and refilling everyone’s glasses.

  “Actually, he wanted to pick a date,” Bonnie began, eyes still on the ring, cheeks grow
ing even redder. “I was the one who insisted we wait.” She glanced up. “I’m just not ready yet.”

  “Of course not,” Cassie agreed.

  “Completely understandable,” Sadie added.

  Barely five months ago, Bonnie had still been engaged to Gabe, her long-term boyfriend. Sadie had always hoped the pair would make it. Partly because she wanted her friend to have her happily ever after, but also, selfishly, it would be nice to know that childhood sweethearts could last. That it could happen.

  She should have known better.

  But despite the fact Bonnie’s ex ended up being a cheating dickhead, her story turned out better than anything in one of Ana’s Disney movies or Cassie’s romance novels. After a summer teaching at Cambridge, Bonnie was now engaged to an actual duke. Theo, her new fiancé, wasn’t a royal duke, but he was a real prince of a guy. Sadie said as much. “Theo’s a good man. I’m sure he’s fine with waiting until you are ready.”

  Bonnie nodded. “He said he understood if I didn’t want to get married anytime soon, but hoped I’d wear his family’s ring.” She smiled, radiant in her happiness. “He told me I looked good wearing his future.”

  “Aaaw!” Their entire booth collapsed in a collective swoon.

  “That is the sweetest thing ever.” Cassie beamed at her friend.

  “It’s just like the line from Some Kind of Wonderful.” Delaney sighed dreamily.

  Bonnie gave her a blank stare. If you needed a line from Shakespeare or Jane Austen, she was your girl, but quote anything from the last two centuries and she was lost.

  “The eighties’ movie?” Delaney glanced around at the rest of them. “Anyone?”

  Sadie shrugged. Obsessed with films from the 1930s and ’40s, her expertise was the Golden Age of Hollywood. She looked to Ana for help, but her best friend shook her head, just as clueless. A Disney addict, Ana’s movie knowledge was limited to cartoon princesses and animated rodents.