Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Yet, I couldn’t get words to form on my tongue. My shyness had kicked in, locking me into silence.
I took in a deep breath, startled as he moved closer. He was too close, yet I wanted him closer. I shook my head. He was too much. It was all too much.
And yet somehow, it wasn’t enough.
The intensity hit me, and I knew I had to get out of there.
I pushed myself up and out of the water. “I have to go,” I burst out, racing around the pool and grabbing my cover-up.
I headed for the gate, ignoring his plea of, “Wait!”
I rushed away, not relaxing until I got to my room, satisfied he wasn’t behind me. I dropped my head into my hands, shaking my head.
“What a moron,” I whispered.
I was certain he must think me mad. I groaned as I realized we would see each other on set, but I comforted myself with the fact that we’d been in the shadows and he would have had a hard time seeing my face. Besides, I was wet, and he probably wouldn’t recognize me. I pushed my hair away from my face, frowning as I realized my hair clip had come out at some point during my race back to my room. Dammit, I liked that one.
I sat down, shocked to see I was trembling and breathless. I felt a longing in my chest I couldn’t explain. It had to be the surprise encounter. I had never told anyone about my secret obsession with Nicholas Scott. The first time I had seen a picture of him, something in my chest had fused together. I followed his career closely, celebrating his victories, cheering for him from afar. I cried during his bad times, the sensation of there being more to his story than people knew strong and unshakable. Somewhere deep inside myself, I thought if I could meet him, I could help him. But I hadn’t been prepared to see him so soon after I got here. It startled me.
My reaction had to be hero worship.
That was all.
Right?
CHAPTER FOUR
NICHOLAS
I picked up my coffee mug, draining the last of the liquid from it and setting it back down on the table. I glanced at the hotel grounds from my vantage point on my balcony, not surprised to see how quiet it was. I knew the studio had a bunch of rooms rented out for the cast and crew. I was grateful to have a room here. I would be driven to and from the set, and it would help me avoid the paps and reporters that always seemed to flock around me while I was filming. It seemed odd to some people that I preferred life on a set, but I was protected—insulated, even—from a lot of things. Security watched out for me. Meals were prepared. There was always a gofer to run an errand and to pick up something I required. Another one to get me coffee or a cold drink. And often, other cast or crew members to shoot the shit with to help pass the time. And if not, I had my sketchbook. I could draw for hours.
I tapped my pencil as I studied the drawing I had picked up half a dozen times today. It was a study of shadows, the focus of a face I had barely been able to make out last night, and yet the memory lingered.
She had hidden in the corner like a frightened rabbit. Her very posture warned me not to move too quickly. She was ready to run at the drop of a hat. When I’d arrived at the pool, at first I had been disappointed to find someone else there. The last two nights, I’d had it all to myself, and I liked sitting in the water, gazing up at the sky, sneaking a cigar MJ would have no idea about, and enjoying the quiet. I had sat down in the water, watching the small figure glide back and forth—up and down the pool in steady, strong pulls. I lost count of the number of lengths she swam. When she stopped and climbed up the steps across from me, I had a glimpse of her profile and figure. She was short. Curvy. Her hair was dark, pulled back into a knot on her head. She wasn’t breathing fast, so swimming was obviously something she was used to doing.
I had no idea why I approached her. I was surprised at her reaction, the fear evident on her face as I went closer. I held out my hand, expecting some sort of recognition. Instead, her eyes had remained apprehensive, her posture tense. Until we touched. Something hit me, something unexpected. Something intense and warm. It felt as if I had touched home. And from the flare in her eyes, I guessed she felt it as well.