Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Still a menace, I see.” The backs of my fingers inadvertently skim her neck and collarbone, and she sucks in a quiet breath. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s okay,” she whispers playfully back, and I connect the cord to the mic.
Tension thrums between us. Her skin is so warm and soft, smooth and kissable. This close I can smell the subtle scent of her shampoo and body lotion. It makes me light-headed. Straightening, I adjust her collar to hide the mic.
“Should we talk about last night?” she blurts.
Behind me, there’s a cough, a gasp, a snorted laugh, the clearing of a throat. A glance over my shoulder confirms that every headset-wearing member of the crew has just given us their undivided attention. “You mean our conversation about today’s run of show?” I ask.
Awareness lands and Fizzy nods slowly, and then with more conviction, calling out loudly, “Yes! Of course that conversation! What other thing would we have to discuss?”
I gaze down at her, fighting a laugh as I reach forward to turn off the live mic. “I guess we don’t need to test your sound levels.”
She winces. “You should hold up a sign or something when you need me to be covert. Subtlety has never been my strong point.”
“I think a safe rule of thumb is to be covert when we are together on the set of your dating show.”
She snaps, pointing at me. “Good call. This is why you’re the boss.”
Pinned to the front of Fizzy’s blouse is a custom-made tag with the logo for The True Love Experiment, and her name printed above the word HEROINE. Each of the Heroes will have a name tag, too, along with his archetype. It’s all a fun gimmick to make the show stand out, but it’s also a reminder of who I’m supposed to be. In fact, I should probably wear a name tag as well, though I’m not sure there would be enough space on it for all the reminders I’d need: Connor Prince III, Hot DILF only as an inside joke, Executive Producer, Not Boyfriend, Not Even Lover, Do Not Covet the Heroine
“But yes. About last night,” I start, and her expression falls, worry creating a gentle crease in her forehead. Words evaporate from my brain. “Which is to say—that is, it was lovely, and I know you know this, I’m just confirming…” She stares up at me, waiting, her eyes softening as I struggle. “We should probably not do it again.”
Fizzy nods. “I agree completely. In fact, I got home and didn’t think about it again, not even once. Definitely not twice in a row.”
I glare down at her. “Can we at least endeavor to go about this with sincerity?”
Rory calls that we’re two minutes from rolling, and Fizzy does some sort of scout gesture.
“I am endeavoring, I promise. Besties only. But may I say one more thing before you go?”
“Of course.”
She points to her mic. “We’re sure this thing is off?”
I eye her warily and reach for the cord hanging limply from her open collar and show her. “It’s disconnected.”
“I promise you that I will do my very best today. You don’t have to worry about my commitment to this project.” A tiny, seductive smile curves her lips. “But let me just say—” Her eyes drift lazily down my body, lingering at my zipper, and then slowly back up. “Well done.”
She pats my chest chummily, smiles, and walks toward her spot as I’m left staring after her.
I think… did she just compliment my dick?
It’s crazy that my face can suddenly feel hot when I know for a fact that most of my blood has just been diverted in the opposite direction. Discombobulated, I take a moment to deposit my cup in the dish bin, where a barista cheerfully retrieves it. As shocking as Fizzy can be, it’s refreshing to have someone simply say what they think. Things are weird? Let’s talk about it. We’d like to fuck but can’t? Let’s admit it and both move on. I’ve never met anyone like her.
As Rory shouts directions, gives Fizzy a pep talk, and shows her her marks, a flurry of activity erupts. Makeup and hair rush in to do final touch-ups, Fizzy’s mic is in fact tested once more, and background actors get into position. There is a vibration in the room, a pulsing thrum of excitement. It’s all going to work. The show is going to succeed, I feel it in my marrow. It will be hard to move on from Fizzy, but I will manage.
I feel self-possessed, in control, creatively alive. Taking in a deep breath, I give myself a moment to appreciate that hard work has landed us here and to be proud that I stepped up to this challenge. Everything feels pretty fucking good.
And then the café door opens and Fizzy’s first Hero walks in.