By the Book Page 7

  “And the female lead?” Oliver asked.

  “Now that we have him and we’re down to the wire, I think I know the perfect one,” the woman said. “I saw her earlier. Give me ten minutes. Twenty if she argues.”

  That said, the woman took off out of the tent and left Denz and Oliver alone. “What’s going on?”

  Denz glanced at Bruce and found the sweating man struggling to control his laughter.

  “Our stars currently share a stomach bug.” Oliver moved toward him and clapped a hand over Denz’s shoulder. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be in front of the camera?”

  “Can’t say that I have,” Denz said wryly.

  “Well, let’s try it and see what happens. Get him to wardrobe and makeup.”

  Shock rolled through him. “Uh, Mr. Beck, I’m not sure—”

  “I am. Denz, you’re about to be a hero of another sort.”

  Chapter 14

  Everything happened so fast Claire wasn’t sure what to make of it. One minute she’d been inside the van and the next some woman had yelped triumphantly and nearly shoved Tom out the pass-through in order to get to Claire.

  “You. I have been looking everywhere for you. Come with me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We need you and you’re perfect. Come on,” she said, grabbing Claire’s hand. “Trust me, you’ll be well compensated.”

  “I-I don’t… Who are you?”

  “We don’t have time for that, hon.”

  “But—”

  “Look, you want to make some easy money?”

  Given her current life situation? “Depends on what I have to do.”

  The woman grinned. “Oh, honey, trust me, that won’t be a problem.”

  “But—”

  “You single?” the woman asked with barely suppressed impatience.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Perfect. Come on, we have to get you to makeup and wardrobe.”

  “My mom’s going to be in the movie?” Tommy asked.

  The woman stared up at Tommy and then looked at Claire’s smaller frame. “Mom?”

  “Yes,” Claire said.

  The woman sighed and rolled her eyes, her hand tightening on Claire’s hand. “Some people get all the good genes. Let’s go.”

  Thirty minutes later, Claire emerged from wardrobe in a chic black sleeveless dress with thigh-high slits up both sides. Oversized earrings completed the dazzling look, and someone handed her six-inch heels she thankfully didn’t have to wear because they filmed on sand.

  Her blond hair had been pulled into an elegant knot, with long tendrils framing her face, and her lips were coated with dark red lipstick that popped with her carefully lined eyes.

  She didn’t remember wearing this much makeup since her high school prom, but the artist assured her it was required due to the lighting and gist of the scene.

  She carried the prop heels in her hand, and then the headset-wearing woman who’d come to the craft service whisked her toward yet another tent. Inside she found none other than Oliver Beck standing beside— “Denz? Is that you?”

  He’d been transformed. Makeup had taken a turn at him as well, it seemed, and his normally clean-shaven face now had a beard attached. They’d dressed him in a black T-shirt and black slacks, making him look like a mob enforcer given the abundant muscles revealed by the short sleeves.

  “Ms. Simmons, I’m Oliver Beck. Thank you for agreeing to be the last-minute fill-in.”

  “I’m not sure I agreed as much as I was commandeered.”

  “Same,” Denz mused, staring at her.

  “You two know each other?” Oliver asked, shifting his attention between them.

  Denz quickly filled Oliver in on how while Claire stood frozen as the awestruck fangirl she was.

  “Well, that is a coincidence,” Oliver said. “It’s nice to meet you, Claire.”

  “L-likewise.”

  “So here’s the scene and why you two are perfect. Denz is basically playing himself, a bodyguard. He’s caught up to his runaway princess, and she’s convinced him to give her a brief taste of freedom before she has to return to her duties. Away from everyone else, they’ve fallen in love, and the scene you’re about to do is the goodbye kiss before her family takes her away.”

  Kiss?

  Claire glanced at Denz and then back at Oliver Beck, aware of the flush rising up her neck into her cheeks. “Shouldn’t the actual actors be doing this?”

  Oliver Beck’s handsome face twisted into a grimace. “Yes, but both have come down with a stomach bug, so now we’re improvising due to the schedule. It won’t be a close-up and”—he turned and waved a hand at the headset-wearing woman who’d found Claire in the van—“we’ve matched you up really well, I think,” he said, taking the sheet of paper the woman handed him and passing it on to Claire. It was a photograph of the actors.

  “I’m… You mean I’m the stand-in for her?”

  Everyone chuckled at Claire’s question and the utter disbelief in her tone.

  “You don’t see the resemblance?” Oliver asked, his gaze twinkling.

  To a Hollywood actress known for her beauty and style? “No.”

  “Trust me, it’s there. You’ll do just fine. And remember the compensation whenever you get frustrated with me having you repeat things,” Oliver continued. “You’re saving me, and I’ll be sure to pass my gratitude along in the payment. Now, you two ready?”

  Claire looked at Denz, expecting him to protest, but realized he looked as uncomfortable as she felt. It was then that she remembered Denz had to work with Oliver professionally at times, so he was probably a little uncomfortable protesting something as simple as a kiss.

  But for her…it wasn’t just a kiss. It was her first kiss…since her last first kiss with Scott. “Wait. Uh, who…does the kissing? I mean, does he o-or—”

  “You do it,” Oliver said.

  Oh, boy. “Uh…”

  “Okay,” Oliver said, his voice loud and carrying to those around them. “Let’s get out there and wrap this up.”

  “Just remember you’re in love and this is the end,” the female assistant said to Claire. “One really good kiss and you’re done and can go on a shopping spree. Oh, and you can keep the dress. Perks of the timing.”

  Keep the dress? The designer label on it had made her gasp. She had a pretty good idea of what dresses like this cost.

  But maybe it would work for the wedding she’d agreed to attend?

  Only if you get this right. I doubt you’ll get to keep the dress if you say no.

  Everyone turned to head toward the beach where the scene apparently took place, and Claire took a fortifying breath.

  “You okay?” Denz asked, pausing as he walked by her.

  “Yes. F-fine.” She motioned for him to lead the way but startled when he reached out and grasped her hand in his to steady her on the shifting sand.

  “Breathe, Claire. It’s just a kiss.”

  A huff of a laugh bubbled out of her chest. “I j-just can’t believe this is happening—or that I’m actually going along with it.”

  “Nice chunk of change up for grabs,” he told her. “Does that help offset having to kiss me?”

  She couldn’t answer that because she honestly wasn’t sure of her answer. She didn’t imagine kissing Denz would be a chore but—

  “Okay,” Oliver said from up ahead of them. “So here’s the deal, you two know your time is up. Fun is over. Time to get back to reality. That means duty for you,” he said to Claire, “and reassignment for you because you’ve crossed the line.”

  “Got it,” Denz said.

  “Denz, you’re facing the ocean and turn when you sense her behind you. You’ll be filmed from behind and above, which is why close in looks works fine here. Claire, you start off walking but rush the last few steps and throw yourself into his arms and kiss. Now, it’s up to you if it’s stage kiss or real. Just make it look good. You want to practice a few times? Get
a feel for it?”

  Practice?

  “Sure,” Denz said, answering for them both.

  “Places!”

  Claire jumped at the booming voice, aware of the sound of the camera-drone taking flight. She met Denz’s gaze and blinked. “How did this happen?”

  A low chuckle rumbled out of him and soothed her fraught nerves.

  “I’m not quite sure myself. So how do you want to do this?”

  “Stage,” she said automatically. “I-I kiss down, you kiss up?” she asked, remembering her high school theater teacher’s instructions when it came to onstage kisses.

  “Whatever you want.”

  Denz turned his back to her and Oliver called action. She took a few steps then picked up speed. Denz turned and she flung herself toward him, lifting her arms, shoes in hand, and smacked them both in the face when the strappy sandals kept speed.

  They jerked back before the kiss could even take place and laughed with embarrassment as the crew cracked up.

  “All good,” Oliver said, smiling himself. “That’s why we practice. Try again.”

  Claire moved back to her appointed position and pulled in a deep breath, reminding herself of the cushion the extra money would give her. That alone calmed her nerves a bit as she took position.

  This time when she started toward Denz and raised her arms, she was careful not to swing the shoes so hard. Denz turned and caught her against his chest, and she pulled his head low, giving him an awkward kiss.

  “Cut!”

  She broke away, embarrassed by her ineptness, and heard Denz murmur something about the third time being the charm.

  “Claire?”

  She looked up at him and found his brown eyes warm and welcoming. Comforting?

  “Relax. It’s just me, a friend.”

  She shook her head, and as though he read her thoughts and realized the importance of her head shake, his gaze widened just a tad.

  “Ready?”

  Her fangirl crush on Oliver Beck was waning fast.

  She took position and looked up to see Denz still watching her. Their gazes locked, and it was a long moment before he turned away to face the ocean once more.

  She thought about what Oliver had told her regarding the character she was meant to be. Someone boxed in by responsibilities and expectations, drawn to a man she couldn’t have because of who he was and what he did.

  Denz was handsome, kind. Caring. He’d proven so several times in the brief time she’d known him. Under different circumstances, maybe…

  She inhaled and took a step. Another and another, the last couple a rush to get to him before it was too late and her chance at this moment was forever lost.

  Denz turned and caught her against him, and this time she forgot about the stupid shoes and the buzzing drone and the people watching.

  She stared up at him, mouths almost touching but not, until she closed her eyes and closed the distance, pressing an urgent kiss to his mouth born of desperation and fear and desire.

  Real and pretend.

  Denz’s arms tightened around her, lifting her against him. In that instant, something changed. He cradled her face with his palm as though cherishing the forbidden moment, the intensity and emotion too close and too real for comfort.

  She gasped for breath, and the moment her lips parted, Denz changed the angle and the kiss deepened. Definitely not fake.

  One kiss blended into another, before they slowly drew apart, forehead to forehead, gazing into each other’s eyes, until Oliver cut the scene and people clapped.

  “That was fantastic,” Oliver said.

  “Given the significance of the occasion,” Denz murmured, “I thought I ought to do it right.”

  And oh, had he ever. Her knees were weak, her entire body trembled, and though she could probably blame her reaction on the nervousness of filming, she knew to do so would be a lie.

  “You two sure you’ve never done this before?” Oliver asked as he joined them. “I think you filmed better than the actors.”

  “Easy to do with such a beautiful woman,” Denz said.

  She managed a weak smile, unsure of how to respond.

  “You did a great job today. I expected to be here for hours.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Claire, Denz mentioned you went to school with Marsali and Eliza?”

  “Um, yeah, I did. Eons ago.”

  “Well, Marsali has already texted me about how excited she is to see you again. She’s usually here on the last day but couldn’t make it. She hates that she missed seeing you in action.”

  Claire smiled at the statement. Glad she hadn’t had the added pressure when she was already inordinately thankful for the fact that Tommy was in the craft service van with her father and hadn’t witnessed the scene.

  She stood there listening to Oliver and Denz talk for several more moments before they all turned to head back toward the tents.

  She sensed someone staring at her and searched the crowd gathered behind the barriers. Her stomach twisted into a hard knot when she spotted her son, front and center, his hands gripping the barrier in front of him.

  Their gazes locked and Claire could see the upset Tommy wasn’t able to hide. She also knew why.

  He’d seen her kissing Denz.

  Chapter 15

  Claire rushed to wardrobe to change and then wadded the elegant dress and its bag in her arms for the mad dash to craft service and the van where her son should have been during shooting.

  She got to the van feeling sweaty and chaotic and earned raised eyebrows from her father.

  “Something wrong?” Tom asked.

  “Uh, no. I was just rushing to get back here so I could help. I didn’t want to leave you alone for too long. Where’s Tommy?”

  “Haven’t seen him. He went to watch you.”

  She stowed the dress inside the van for safekeeping. The creator would probably see such a thing as sacrilege considering it probably cost more than the van itself. “Thanks. Dad, do you need me? I kind of have a headache. I think I’ll try to find Tommy and head home.”

  “You go ahead. We have everything covered. Lunch rush is over.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll do better next time.”

  “Not a problem. I’ve wound up an extra like that a time or two myself. It just means you’re in the business now.”

  In the business? Hardly. “If you see Tommy, tell him to wait here and text me?”

  “Will do.”

  Claire left the van and meandered through the food area but didn’t see her son. From there she took advantage of the fact she was a face “on set” so to speak and looked around there to see if maybe Tommy had snuck past the guards.

  She was starting to panic, especially when she hadn’t heard from her father, when she spotted someone sitting a ways down the beach. Her instincts put her feet into motion, and within moments, she was able to see well enough to know that it was Tommy.

  She approached cautiously, unsure of his mood. “Hey. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you ready to go home?”

  “To Virginia?”

  Oh, that didn’t bode well. “No. To Grandpa’s. He said we could leave if you’re ready.”

  Tommy set his jaw, nostrils flaring as he tried to control his emotions.

  “I want to go home.”

  “Tommy—”

  “He’s not Dad.”

  “Denz? No, he’s not.”

  “Then why did you kiss him?”

  “You know why. You heard exactly what happened and how I wound up in that situation, and that kiss… It was acting. I got paid to do it. Quite a bit, I might add. Money we need right now.”

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  She dropped to her knees on the sand beside him and shifted sideways to sit. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “You’re trying to get rid of him. You sold all of his stuff. You’re gonna sell the house even though I don’t want you to. Now you’re kissing
that guy. It’s like you’re glad Dad’s gone.”

  “Tommy, no. That’s not true at all.”

  “It didn’t look like a fake kiss.”

  Because it hadn’t been. Not by the end. But Tommy wasn’t mature enough to handle such adult matters when it came to the enormity of the first kiss after losing a spouse, nor how Denz had made it special for her. “Denz and I… We tried to make it look real so we could get it over with and not have to keep doing it.”

  “So you don’t like him?”

  “Oh, Tommy, I don’t even know him. Denz seems nice but—”

  “It’s only been a year.”

  A year since Scott’s death, but nearly three since they were on the same continent. “I know.” She shifted and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “You have no reason to worry, okay? I’m sorry the scene hurt you. For what it’s worth, I didn’t know I’d be kissing anyone, much less Denz. But rest assured we’re just…friends.”

  “For real?”

  “For real. Now, are you ready to go? I want to scrub this stuff off my face and enjoy some waves. Maybe try out the new skimboards Grandpa picked up? What do you say?”

  Later that evening, Denz headed out for a run when he spotted Tommy outside in the hammock with his headset on. “Hey, you up for a workout?”

  The kid looked surprised by the question, then wary, but shrugged.

  “I guess.”

  “Go ask your mom if you can come with me to the gym. I’ll wait.”

  Tommy went into the house and Denz stretched while he waited. A minute passed and Claire emerged, dressed in pink shorts and a white top that showcased the bronze sheen of her afternoon at the beach.

  She approached him and tucked her hands into her back pockets. “The gym?”

  “Is that okay? I thought I’d show him around. Introduce him to people. Maybe work off some of that frustration.”

  “That’s nice of you. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.” Awkward silence filled the space between them, and he took a step closer. “Claire, are we okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re sure?”