washed in sunshine. “Let’s sit there.” He wrung out the cuff on his shorts and gave her a wry look. “We can’t go to the Baxters’ looking like this.”
She followed him and sat a few feet away. “How long do we have?”
“An hour. Dinner’s at four.” He put his hands behind him and leaned back. He loved the privacy they had here, loved being with her, talking to her without the threat of paparazzi or any of the craziness that came with his life. He studied the backyard and imagined it with a new deck and porch. “I see what you 46
mean, how you can picture us here a year from now. Five years.” He met her eyes.
“Twenty years.”
“Mmm. It’s the perfect retreat, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”
He was quiet for a minute before he drew a slow breath. The sound of a passing car faded in the distance, and a gentle wind stirred the maples that lined the property. If they were going to share everything, then he needed to tell her what he’d been feeling. “Hey … I need to talk to you.”
A ripple of concern showed in her eyes.
“Don’t look like that.” He reached for her hand. “It’s not about us.”
“Oh. I didn’t think so, but …”
“Katy, you’re perfect. This-” he waved his hand to encompass the lake and the house-“all of it is perfect.” A sigh rattled loose from somewhere deep inside him. “It’s about my job.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Your job?”
“Yeah, is that funny?”
“I guess so. Hearing you talk about it like that.” Katy laughed, and the sound mixed with the breeze. “Like you’re an engineer or a salesman and not, you know, the Dayne Matthews.”
He made a face. “It’s still a job, whatever way you look at it.” He pulled his knees up and leaned on one of them so he could see her better. “Anyway, it’s bugging me lately.”
She waited for him to explain.
“The love scenes.” He released her hand and stared at the expanse of water. He’d been thinking about this since that day in the canyon-the scene with Randi and her comment about wishing they could’ve done multiple takes. Now that he loved Katy, he was uncomfortable kissing anyone else. Even if it was all pretend. He sensed something change in Katy. “What are you feeling?”
She looked at the line of trees. When she spoke, uncertainty hung in her voice.
“I don’t know. I always figured the love scenes came with the territory.”
47
“And until a month ago you figured the two of us were finished.”
“Right. I haven’t had time to think about it.” She shaded her eyes. “What brought it up? You and Randi Wells?”
“Me and her. Me and whoever they cast me with.” He could hear the frustration in his voice. “My films always have love scenes. Some more than others.”
Katy looked like she didn’t want to ask, but now that he’d brought it up, she did. “How much in this film?”
“Not as much as some.” He frowned and looked out at the water. “No bedroom scenes. But still …”
Katy was quiet. She plucked a blade of grass and turned it over in her fingers.
“Makes me glad I’ve been here trying to get ready for Cinderella.”
“And now all you can picture is Randi and me, right?” He knew the topic would be touchy. But there was no way around it. He had to tell her how he was feeling.
“One love scene after another.”
“I guess. It’s not something I want to think about.” She tucked her legs beneath her. “I can see where it would bug you.”
“It does. A lot.” He pictured the canyon scene. “I’m standing there in front of fifty people kissing another woman, and for the first time in my life it feels all wrong. Completely wrong.”
She studied the ground next to her. “The Hollywood answer is obvious. Whatever happens on a set is simply acting, nothing more.” She looked up. “But if that’s true, then why do so many leads fall for each other during the course of filming?”
“Exactly.” He raked his
She followed him and sat a few feet away. “How long do we have?”
“An hour. Dinner’s at four.” He put his hands behind him and leaned back. He loved the privacy they had here, loved being with her, talking to her without the threat of paparazzi or any of the craziness that came with his life. He studied the backyard and imagined it with a new deck and porch. “I see what you 46
mean, how you can picture us here a year from now. Five years.” He met her eyes.
“Twenty years.”
“Mmm. It’s the perfect retreat, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”
He was quiet for a minute before he drew a slow breath. The sound of a passing car faded in the distance, and a gentle wind stirred the maples that lined the property. If they were going to share everything, then he needed to tell her what he’d been feeling. “Hey … I need to talk to you.”
A ripple of concern showed in her eyes.
“Don’t look like that.” He reached for her hand. “It’s not about us.”
“Oh. I didn’t think so, but …”
“Katy, you’re perfect. This-” he waved his hand to encompass the lake and the house-“all of it is perfect.” A sigh rattled loose from somewhere deep inside him. “It’s about my job.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Your job?”
“Yeah, is that funny?”
“I guess so. Hearing you talk about it like that.” Katy laughed, and the sound mixed with the breeze. “Like you’re an engineer or a salesman and not, you know, the Dayne Matthews.”
He made a face. “It’s still a job, whatever way you look at it.” He pulled his knees up and leaned on one of them so he could see her better. “Anyway, it’s bugging me lately.”
She waited for him to explain.
“The love scenes.” He released her hand and stared at the expanse of water. He’d been thinking about this since that day in the canyon-the scene with Randi and her comment about wishing they could’ve done multiple takes. Now that he loved Katy, he was uncomfortable kissing anyone else. Even if it was all pretend. He sensed something change in Katy. “What are you feeling?”
She looked at the line of trees. When she spoke, uncertainty hung in her voice.
“I don’t know. I always figured the love scenes came with the territory.”
47
“And until a month ago you figured the two of us were finished.”
“Right. I haven’t had time to think about it.” She shaded her eyes. “What brought it up? You and Randi Wells?”
“Me and her. Me and whoever they cast me with.” He could hear the frustration in his voice. “My films always have love scenes. Some more than others.”
Katy looked like she didn’t want to ask, but now that he’d brought it up, she did. “How much in this film?”
“Not as much as some.” He frowned and looked out at the water. “No bedroom scenes. But still …”
Katy was quiet. She plucked a blade of grass and turned it over in her fingers.
“Makes me glad I’ve been here trying to get ready for Cinderella.”
“And now all you can picture is Randi and me, right?” He knew the topic would be touchy. But there was no way around it. He had to tell her how he was feeling.
“One love scene after another.”
“I guess. It’s not something I want to think about.” She tucked her legs beneath her. “I can see where it would bug you.”
“It does. A lot.” He pictured the canyon scene. “I’m standing there in front of fifty people kissing another woman, and for the first time in my life it feels all wrong. Completely wrong.”
She studied the ground next to her. “The Hollywood answer is obvious. Whatever happens on a set is simply acting, nothing more.” She looked up. “But if that’s true, then why do so many leads fall for each other during the course of filming?”
“Exactly.” He raked his
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