enthusiastic.
The problem was that she was basing the scene on real life : the conversation she had with Pal Greenland.
She'd finally gotten a hold of him today, and he'd agreed to consider her for the role. It'd taken all her wiles to get him to agree, even though he himself said the non-obvious choice could be brilliant, but since all her experience was in romantic comedies he wasn't sure she had the range to pull off the role. She'd had to do some fast talking to get him to agree to a screen test.
She hadn't done a screen test in ten years. She knew everyone expected Sophie Martineau to be too much of a diva to do a screen test, but that wasn't the reason she balked at doing it. She was scared. What if she bombed?
Nerves coiled tight in her belly. She needed this role. She wasn't sure what she'd do if she didn't get it.
Refocusing on her scene, Sophie would have frowned at it except she wasn't going to give Pal Greenland the satisfaction of causing her wrinkles. He was an ass, but he was the ass who was remaking Doctor Zhivago , and Sophie wanted the part of Lara, Zhivago'sill-fated lover.
What s he needed to do was bring an element of levity into the scene. She scratched through the two pages she'd written and started fresh, giving her heroine Desiree figurative balls. Big ones. Desiree would enter the interview wearing a frothySouthern-belle gownwith a parasol and h uge confident smile.
"What are you doing in here?" a manly voice asked over the rumble of the Jacuzzi.
Tony's voice.
Sophie froze, startled, aware that her butt was probably very visible in the water, even with the jets going. She took her time turning around, composing herself enough to say, "If it's not obvious, you should get your eyes checked."
Tony leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his gaze hooded. "I think my vision is pretty accurate."
Good God, she hoped not. He was probably like the other men in Hollywood, who dated women half their age. She worked hard for her body but even she couldn't compete with a girl.
"You haven't told me what you're doing in my bathtub," he said. He wore a suit, still as immaculate as he'd been when he'd left the house that morning. I t was intimidating , actually.
She shrugged, playing nonchalant even though her heart was pounding. She felt like Goldilocks caught by the big bear. Only she was naked and wet, and she wouldn't have minded if the bear ate her all up. She swallowed. "I'm taking a bath."
"I see that. Why my bath?"
She shrugged, waving her arms casually over the top of the water to obscure the view of her body. "Have you seen the tiny bathtub in my room?"
"It's a two-person tub." He loosened his tie as he entered the bathroom and closed the door.
"But yours has a view." She liked his bathroom best, even if it was gaudier than a bordello. The Jacuzzi was outstanding—even better than the one she had in her LA house. He didn't know it, but she'd been sneaking in here to use it for the past two weeks since she'd discovered it while snooping.
"The view has a price." He dropped his tie on the gold-flecked marble countertop and shrugged out of his coat.
She swallowed, trying not to gawk at the sight of his manly shoulders. If he looked like this in clothing, she was pretty sure she'd hyperventilate if he stripped. "What are you doing?"
"Joining you."
Fear and desire—and longing that she didn't want to feel—rushed through her. She pretended she was on stage and lifted her head as though she were already Lara. "I haven't invited you to join me."
"You better invite me quick, then." He tugged his dress shirt out and undid his slacks, holding her gaze the entire time, as if daring her to shy away.
As if. She was agitated because she hadn't felt this way in—well, ever . She wasn't stupid enough to shy away from it.
It was more than just sex. She hadn't had sex in a long time. A really long time. Jeremy had been eye candy, and he'd wanted her, but somehow it wasn't very satisfying.
The problem was that she was basing the scene on real life : the conversation she had with Pal Greenland.
She'd finally gotten a hold of him today, and he'd agreed to consider her for the role. It'd taken all her wiles to get him to agree, even though he himself said the non-obvious choice could be brilliant, but since all her experience was in romantic comedies he wasn't sure she had the range to pull off the role. She'd had to do some fast talking to get him to agree to a screen test.
She hadn't done a screen test in ten years. She knew everyone expected Sophie Martineau to be too much of a diva to do a screen test, but that wasn't the reason she balked at doing it. She was scared. What if she bombed?
Nerves coiled tight in her belly. She needed this role. She wasn't sure what she'd do if she didn't get it.
Refocusing on her scene, Sophie would have frowned at it except she wasn't going to give Pal Greenland the satisfaction of causing her wrinkles. He was an ass, but he was the ass who was remaking Doctor Zhivago , and Sophie wanted the part of Lara, Zhivago'sill-fated lover.
What s he needed to do was bring an element of levity into the scene. She scratched through the two pages she'd written and started fresh, giving her heroine Desiree figurative balls. Big ones. Desiree would enter the interview wearing a frothySouthern-belle gownwith a parasol and h uge confident smile.
"What are you doing in here?" a manly voice asked over the rumble of the Jacuzzi.
Tony's voice.
Sophie froze, startled, aware that her butt was probably very visible in the water, even with the jets going. She took her time turning around, composing herself enough to say, "If it's not obvious, you should get your eyes checked."
Tony leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his gaze hooded. "I think my vision is pretty accurate."
Good God, she hoped not. He was probably like the other men in Hollywood, who dated women half their age. She worked hard for her body but even she couldn't compete with a girl.
"You haven't told me what you're doing in my bathtub," he said. He wore a suit, still as immaculate as he'd been when he'd left the house that morning. I t was intimidating , actually.
She shrugged, playing nonchalant even though her heart was pounding. She felt like Goldilocks caught by the big bear. Only she was naked and wet, and she wouldn't have minded if the bear ate her all up. She swallowed. "I'm taking a bath."
"I see that. Why my bath?"
She shrugged, waving her arms casually over the top of the water to obscure the view of her body. "Have you seen the tiny bathtub in my room?"
"It's a two-person tub." He loosened his tie as he entered the bathroom and closed the door.
"But yours has a view." She liked his bathroom best, even if it was gaudier than a bordello. The Jacuzzi was outstanding—even better than the one she had in her LA house. He didn't know it, but she'd been sneaking in here to use it for the past two weeks since she'd discovered it while snooping.
"The view has a price." He dropped his tie on the gold-flecked marble countertop and shrugged out of his coat.
She swallowed, trying not to gawk at the sight of his manly shoulders. If he looked like this in clothing, she was pretty sure she'd hyperventilate if he stripped. "What are you doing?"
"Joining you."
Fear and desire—and longing that she didn't want to feel—rushed through her. She pretended she was on stage and lifted her head as though she were already Lara. "I haven't invited you to join me."
"You better invite me quick, then." He tugged his dress shirt out and undid his slacks, holding her gaze the entire time, as if daring her to shy away.
As if. She was agitated because she hadn't felt this way in—well, ever . She wasn't stupid enough to shy away from it.
It was more than just sex. She hadn't had sex in a long time. A really long time. Jeremy had been eye candy, and he'd wanted her, but somehow it wasn't very satisfying.
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