Читать книгу Redemption of a Hollywood Starlet - Kimberly Lang - Страница 9

FINN didn’t need to watch the filming—in fact, he probably shouldn’t, since Farrell was notoriously temperamental and quick to bite when he felt his directorial turf was being trod on—but something drew him tonight whether he liked it or not.

Cait’s parting shot bothered him. Oh, he’d been well aware before that she was carrying some kind of grudge against him—which was totally undeserved, because he wasn’t the bastard in this situation. He wasn’t the one who’d walked out.

So she wanted someone to blame? For what? It nearly destroyed me—personally and professionally. That did explain a lot of the shouting the night she’d left. He’d known she was starting to get a bit of backlash from their adventures, but “personal” hadn’t come into it.

Or so he’d thought.

He’d chalked it up to overreaction from not getting the chance to read for that part she’d wanted in some film, and expected her to be back after she’d calmed down. The next thing he’d heard, she was in London.

She’d left the damn country without even saying goodbye. That still left a bad taste in his mouth.

London had changed her; she wasn’t that fun-loving free spirit she’d been back then. She looked the same—he ignored the memory of the flash of heat that had moved over him when he’d walked into her trailer and found her dozing on the couch in just her underwear—but she wasn’t the same. This new Cait was reserved, careful and locked down tighter than a maiden aunt—and equally disapproving. Every now and then she’d let something slip that made him think she was merely pretending to be someone new, but the mask always fell right back into place, making him wonder if he’d imagined it. What had happened to her in London to damp that inner fire that had once drawn him like a moth?

Not that he wanted to go there again.

Nonetheless, he was standing there watching, even when he had a ton of paperwork waiting for him. He could easily list a dozen things he should be doing instead of sitting here watching Cait prepare to make out with Jason Elkins.

His earlier compliment to Cait hadn’t been empty flattery. In fact, he’d been astounded by how good she was as Rebecca. He snorted when he remembered that Cait’s mother envied her the part. Even thirty years ago Margaret Fields-Reese would have been totally wrong for Rebecca, and if he wanted to be honest—privately, at least—Cait’s mother couldn’t have pulled it off at Cait’s age. Cait might have spent the last ten years in the shadow of her parents’ talent, but she was about to grab the spotlight all on her own.

That much he understood better than anyone else here, and he couldn’t help but be proud of her.

Still, his brain had a hard time reconciling the Cait he knew and the roles she’d used to play with the woman now dominating each scene with quiet, heartbreaking strength. No wonder Naomi was spitting nails. Cait owned this film now. She would rule award season.

But even knowing Cait was simply in character, doing her job while the cameras rolled and thirty people watched, Finn was surprised at the strange kick that landed in his gut when Elkins kissed her.

And it only got worse when Cait kissed him back. The passionate embrace seemed to go on forever.

Farrell finally called cut and Cait rolled out from under Elkins immediately. Two women hurried over to fix her lipstick and hair while the crew readied for the next take.

“Not jealous, are you?” Dolby spoke from behind him.

That feeling wasn’t jealousy. “Why would I be?” he asked casually.

“Don’t know. All I do know is that the second he put his hands on Cait you looked like you would like to beat Elkins into a mushy pulp.”

The truth was good enough here. “I just don’t like him.”

“Ah, but every woman between the ages of fifteen and fifty does.”

And that equaled money at the box office. Finn shook his head. He knew all too well that personal likeability had nothing at all to do with job performance. Hell, his father was a prime example of a lousy person doing a good job, so his distaste of Elkins made little sense under close inspection. He’d had a lifetime of practice in keeping personal dislike separate from professional needs. It made things much easier. It took practice to keep everything in its proper box, but it worked well—until someone like Cait came along and screwed it all up.

As Brady would say, he needed to keep the bigger picture in focus. Folly was the important thing, and he needed to keep his focus there and there only. “I still don’t like the idea of sending Cait out with him to bait the paparazzi. He’s a womanizer.”

“Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, I think.”

For the second time in two days Finn really wanted to punch Dolby in the mouth. It was the only the third time in the entire seven years they’d been partners he’d been pushed like this, and Finn recalled Cait had been part of the reason that other time, too.

“The difference is that I actually like women. He’s nothing but a user, and I feel like a pimp encouraging this.”

Dolby raised his hands and stepped back. “Whoa, there, Lancelot. Lay off the talent. We need them. What did Caitlyn say when you told her?”

“That she’s a team player. She’ll do it, but I don’t think she really likes the idea. I don’t blame her.”

“Well, she needs a big name in order to overshadow yours and point the cameras in another direction. Jason Elkins is about the only one who fits that bill. We could always go back to Plan A and put you two in front of the shutterbugs …”

“And I’ve already said that’s not going to happen.” Even if Cait were game, he certainly wasn’t.

“You’re so touchy about this. Three weeks ago you’d have let me sacrifice kittens on the set if it would be good for Folly.”

“Three weeks ago we were simply shooting. Now the entire project is just a backdrop for a freakin’ soap opera.”

“Dude, you need serious therapy.”

Finn couldn’t argue with that, but damned if he’d admit it.

The director called for quiet and cued the cameras. Cait lay beside Elkins, her face buried in his neck as her hand found his and their fingers twined together. It was beautiful, powerful … and completely sickening. Cait slowly sat up, her hair falling like a curtain over her face, and when she tossed it back the seductive smile she wore ripped into his stomach, spreading remembered and familiar heat and want through his veins. He recognized that smile, knew it, had had it directed at him when he … When they … Disgusted, Finn turned and walked away.

Dolby trotted beside him. Once they were safely out of range, he spoke quietly, “If this thing with Cait is going to be a problem, I’ll stay and you can go back to L.A.”

Why wouldn’t Dolby just let it go? Probably because he knew far more than Finn was really comfortable with at the moment. “There is no ‘thing’ with Cait, so there’s no problem, either. I refuse to make a big deal out of this. The set is closed, Cait’s going to go out and pretend to be hot for Jason Elkins and I’m going to produce this movie. If everyone will just do their damn jobs, it will all be fine.”

Dolby threw up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Folly is all yours.”

“How kind of you.”

The assistant director waved them down and Dolby went to see what he needed. Finn went to the trailer housing the production office and tried to lose himself in the seemingly endless number of emails. About twenty minutes later, the subject line on one brought him up short: Comment on Caitlyn Reese’s return?

Finn sighed. On the off-chance it was actually something worthwhile, he clicked it open. Nope. No questions about Folly or the role of Rebecca or anything else that might be considered anything other than tabloid-ready gossip.

Good Lord. When he’d left for Monaco, Folly had been newsworthy because of the importance of the project. The book had a nearly cult-like following, and was required reading at many universities, so film companies had been trying to buy the rights to the book for decades. Dolfinn’s success had been hailed as the get of the year.

He wouldn’t care if the attention shifted to one of the cast or the director, because that would be equally valid. In the last few days, as word had spread that not only had Cait been cast but that he would be on the set, Folly’s buzz had shifted toward the tawdry. The media was circling, but not in a good way.

He deleted the email without responding. The invasion of his private life didn’t really bother him. Hell, he’d never had much of a private life. The Marshall family was always in the news: being rich and politically connected equaled fame, and he’d grown up in the fishbowl of power politics. It wasn’t personal. And if it was personal, well, he’d learned long ago not to let that faze him.

He’d built his own reputation in L.A., proving that Marshall DNA wasn’t destiny, but his connections and success only increased the glare of the spotlight. Honestly, he didn’t care what was said about him; he lived his life exactly as he damn well pleased and the rest of the world could shove it. That was the one lesson he’d learned from his father that had served him well. Professional success came with personal scrutiny, but enough success meant his private life couldn’t outshout it. Fame, fortune and power made him blog fodder, but they also meant he didn’t have to answer to anyone about anything.

Why, then, did this sudden Cait-fueled interest irritate him? God knew there was nothing about their previous relationship that hadn’t made the tabloids, and he’d never given that a second thought.

Until now. And he was finding out it was something he really didn’t want to think about.

It made no sense at all.

“Beautiful, Caitlyn. Absolutely wonderful. You and Jason are just magic together.”

Caitlyn accepted the compliments with a smile as she waited for the crew to reset the shot and the makeup artists swooped in to fix her hair and lipstick. She reached for a bottle of water and sipped gently through the straw. What she’d really like to do was swish and gargle to get the taste of Jason out of her mouth, but that probably wouldn’t go over well.

She bit back a laugh. He looked good, smelled even better, and women everywhere would kill to be in her shoes right now. If only the teen magazines knew that their current cover hottie and winner of “Best Lips” should actually take home the title of “Worst Kisser.” Not that a screen kiss would ever equal a real kiss, but jeez … There were close-ups involved, so chaste, fake kisses just wouldn’t do. At their last rehearsal Walter had thundered on about authenticity and making it real, and she was really doing her best. If this was the best Jason could do … Well, Caitlyn felt a little bad for the women he dated.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Finn and froze. What the hell? It wasn’t that he didn’t belong here—he had full run of the set and there was a good chance he had a legitimate reason for observing the filming—but something slithered down her spine at the thought of him watching her do this.

It just seemed … icky. As if it was wrong somehow, even though she knew that was ridiculous. They weren’t an item anymore, and this was professional kissing, not recreational. Then why did she suddenly feel like …?

The sound of her name pulled her out of her shock, and she realized the crew was waiting for her. Clearing her mind, she lay down next to Jason and let Walter direct her into place. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and at that moment she realized why Jason smelled so good.

That was the aftershave Finn used to wear.

Pieces fell into place and memories rushed back at her, crowding her mind’s eye too quickly for her to focus on anything else. Damn it. Now was not the time to wander down that path. But as Jason’s hands moved across her back it was all too easy to pretend it was just part of those memories. That those were Finn’s hands touching her, his breath against her neck, his lips … A shiver ran over her body.

She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face, and when she opened her eyes it was Finn’s face she saw, his eyes hooded and glowing with desire. She let the memories wash over her and take control. Her fingers shook slightly as she reached for the buttons on her blouse, then a hand caught her hair and pulled her down against a broad chest. Only part of her mind registered the crew watching and the directions being quietly fed to her; something else was guiding her.

The word, “Cut!” finally caught her attention, and she snapped back to herself. The realization of who she was actually with sent heat to her cheeks, but she forced herself to keep her face still. Looking around, she saw the big smile on the director’s face, and stunned looks from some of the crew.

Jason pushed himself to a sitting position and shook like a wet dog. Her lipstick stained his lips. “Wow, Caitlyn. Hell of a take.”

Thank God this was a professional crew. They expected realism. She was the only one who needed to know what had actually happened, and as the compliments about that “magic” started again she didn’t bother to correct anyone who wanted to gush about the chemistry she had with Jason.