“Yes.” A light laugh came from her. “I think I’ve got it. I’m a little nervous.”
He touched her shoulder and smiled. “Don’t be. You’ll do great.”
Mitch was talking to another man, and at that moment he turned and approached them. “Let’s do it.”
Every confident thought Katy had comforted herself with vanished. She was crazy to be here, crazy to think she had the right to read for a major role opposite Dayne Matthews. And even more crazy to think she’d want it. Especially after what had happened with Tad. She didn’t belong in this world, didn’t have what it took to—
“Katy?” Dayne reached out and took her hand. “Come on. We start stage left.”
And just like that the thrill was back again. She wanted this part as badly as she’d ever wanted a part in all her life. Her mind found the place it had created back in the small room, and in a matter of seconds she wasn’t only acting the part of the lead character.
She was the part.
Dayne’s hand in hers felt comfortable and right, the way it would feel if she’d struck up a friendship with him at work and could sense herself falling for him. The surroundings were no longer a hollow soundstage but a New York City street, the air cold around her face.
She breathed it in, and when Mitch shouted, “Okay, action!” the scene was vividly real to her.
“You still glad you came to New York?” Dayne kept his pace slow, comfortable, as they set out on the walkway toward the porch.
“I guess.” She looked up at him, and she could feel the city lights reflecting in her eyes. “It’s busier than I thought it’d be. Faster.”
Dayne chuckled. “Yes.” He found her eyes again. “It’s definitely fast.”
“I don’t know.” She looked up, and the imaginary buildings towered over her. “I’ve dreamed of working in the city all my life, but somehow . . .” She shrugged. “I miss my little town, my family.”
They headed up the steps, and Dayne let her take the lead. When she was on the porch and he was on the final step, she stopped and looked at him.
“I bet they miss you too.” He paused. “I would.”
She looked down and then back at him, her eyes big. “How come you’re so nice to me? You’re supposed to be my competition, right? Isn’t that how we big-time reporters play the game?”
According to the script Mitch had given her, Dayne’s character did indeed have motives. He wanted to steal her sources on what he thought was the biggest story of the year. But at this point in the film, against his better judgment, he was starting to fall for her. A flash of guilt passed over his face. “You’re easy to be nice to.” He stepped up onto the porch beside her. “I’m not sure if I could ever compete with you.”
For a moment she searched his eyes, her feelings shifting from coy and grateful to embarrassed. “Well . . . I should probably—”
“I guess I should—”
Their words came out at the same time, just the way the script called for them to. They both laughed, and as the moment faded, Dayne brought his fingers to the side of her face and worked them into her hair. With gentle ease, he removed the rubber band from her ponytail and let her hair fall down around her face and shoulders. “You’re beautiful.”
Katy stayed in character. What was he doing? The hair thing wasn’t in the script. Not the part about being beautiful either. She swallowed. “I don’t know if . . .” Her words died in a breathy blur.
With that, he drew her close and kissed her. His kiss was warm and full, and it swept her away on a wave of emotion and awakening passion. Just the way the script called for. She pulled away, and she could feel the desire in her eyes. “I . . .” She put her hand on the door. “I need to get inside.”
His eyes were filled with questions. “Right now?”
This time she brought her lips to his, and he worked his free hand around her waist. The kiss lasted longer than the first one, and Katy knew there was no mistaking the fact that she wanted him to come inside with her. But as she drew back, she remembered who she was and what she was doing. She ran the back of her hand over her mouth and felt her expression change. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” And with that she turned and pushed the door open.
“Cut.” Mitch Henry sounded happy. “We’ve got it.”
Only then did Katy allow the imaginary world she’d created to fade away. Dayne still had his arm on her waist, and she faced him again. “Well?”
His eyes grew wide. “Katy . . .” He backed up, letting her go. “You were amazing. Wow.”
“Really?” She wanted to ask him about the hair thing, but she didn’t dare. It was probably only his way of ad-libbing.
Mitch approached them and waved them off the stage. “Very nice, Katy. I’m impressed.”
She followed Dayne down the porch steps, then the stage stairs to join Mitch. “Thank you.”
“Hey . . .” He shot Dayne a suspicious look. “You sure you’ve never dated her? That was pretty convincing.”
Dayne laughed. “I barely know her.” He looked at her. “But it felt pretty convincing.”
“Yeah.” Katy lowered her gaze and then met Dayne’s eyes. “It did, didn’t it?”
“You should see what the camera caught.” Mitch led them back to the monitor. He directed his attention to the cameraman. “Run it again, will you?”
The man hit a few buttons; then the monitor sprang to life. Katy and Dayne stood side by side, so close she could smell his shampoo, feel the heat from his arm. Now that the scene was over, the nervousness she’d felt before was gone.
As the action played out on the monitor, she was stunned. She and Dayne looked like they’d been friends forever, walking along the city street, holding hands. And on the stoop, their feelings came across on-screen loud and clear—especially when they kissed.
When it was over, Mitch grinned. “I like it.”
“Me too.” Dayne gave her a light bump with his shoulder. “You’re very good, Katy.”
“Thanks.” She smiled, and she felt like the character again. “You too.”
“Why don’t you go with one of the pages, get yourself something to drink.” Dayne pointed to a young woman standing near the studio door. “Mitch and I have to talk for a few minutes.”
They had to talk? Katy covered up a gulp. This was it, the moment that would make all the difference. There had to be other people reading for the part, and casting directors rarely shared their true feelings at an audition. Mitch Henry’s response didn’t mean the role was hers. She nodded and gave Dayne a quick look. “I’ll be across the hall, I guess.”
“I’ll meet you over there.” Dayne waved and then turned to talk with the casting director.
Katy walked across the floor, and only when she reached the woman at the door did she realize that she hadn’t felt a single step. She was floating, happy for more reasons than she could count. The audition was behind her, for one thing, and she’d done the best job she was capable of doing. Not a single mess-up.
Then there was her prayer from the night before. She’d asked God to show her if she didn’t belong here, and so far He seemed to be flinging doors wide open. But maybe the best part of all was that no one had to wonder if she and Dayne had a connection on camera. Because if the raw footage she’d just seen was any indication, they didn’t only have a connection.
They had electricity.
Katy wasn’t even to the door when Dayne turned around and whispered to Mitch Henry, “I want her. She’s perfect.”
“Hold on.” Mitch pulled up a chair and nodded for Dayne to do the same. When they were both seated, Mitch leaned forward. “I’m worried about her.”
“Worried?” Dayne raked his fingers through his hair and looked around the soundstage, searching for a reason. “Did you watch the tape? The girl’s exactly what we need. Fresh, new, with a look that defines innocent, and you know why?”
“I do.” Mitch kept his voice calm. He gave Dayne a knowing look. “Because she is inn
ocent. I get that, Dayne. She’s pretty and fresh and she can act. No question the two of you have something on-screen.” His enthusiasm fell even further. “But maybe you haven’t thought about something else.”
“What?” Dayne lifted his hands in the air. “What haven’t I thought about?”
“If she’s as innocent as she looks, then this might not be the life for her—a starring role in a major motion picture. Ever think about that?”
Dayne waved off the comment. “That’s ridiculous. It’s one film, Mitch. One lousy film. After that she can go back to her kids theater if she wants to. One film isn’t going to change her life. Not forever, anyway.”
For a moment, Mitch only stared at him. Then he chuckled in a sad sort of way. “Don’t you remember, Dayne? One film changed your life. You starred in Mountain High and it was all over. The offers were too many to count.” He laughed again. “It only takes one film.”
Dayne pursed his lips and stared at his shoes. Mitch was right, and he hated the fact. Still determined, he pressed on. “She came here, didn’t she? Maybe she doesn’t care if her life changes.”
Mitch shook his head. “She’s an unknown, Dayne. I’m okay with that on a lot of levels, but when it comes to depending on her for a megamillion-dollar film . . . I don’t know if we can do it.” He paused. “Kelly Parker was fantastic too.”
The conversation was over. Dayne stood and patted Mitch’s knee. “I want her. Give me a day with her. I’ll get a feel for how badly she wants it, and then I’ll offer her the part. If she runs, we’ll know it soon enough.” He hesitated. “Okay with you?”
Mitch rubbed the back of his neck and then sighed. “All right. Go ahead.” He held up a finger. “Don’t push her, Matthews. Kelly would handle it just fine.”
Dayne felt a surge of excitement. He had the green light. Now all he had to do was convince Katy. Though he might be able to do that in a five-minute conversation, he wanted to take his time, get to know her better. Her plane didn’t leave for a couple of days, and she had nothing else on her agenda as far as he knew.
He found her at a break table sipping on a bottle of water. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Questions filled her eyes. “Well . . . what’s the verdict?”
Her eyes were so blue, so pure. He tried to remember where he’d seen eyes like that before, eyes full of light and love and goodness. Then it hit him. Luke Baxter’s eyes had been like that, hadn’t they? Luke’s and Elizabeth’s, both. He grinned, regaining his focus. “Let’s not talk about verdicts.”
“No?” Her expression fell. “Does that mean I take an earlier flight home?”
They’d planned for her to stay through Thursday afternoon in case the director wanted her to take a harder look at the entire script and to give them enough time if they wanted to offer her a contract. He uttered an easy laugh. “No, Miss Katy. There’ll be no earlier flight, not today.”
Her eyes were big, bewildered. “So, then . . . what’s next?”
“Next . . .” He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. When she was standing, he let her hand go. “You and I find a place for lunch so we can talk.”
She twisted her face into a cute frown. “About the movie?”
“About the movie.” He wanted to ask her if she knew how adorable she looked. But he kept his thoughts to himself. He would move slowly today, keeping things casual and professional. Whatever else he was feeling would have to wait for another day. Maybe forever. Either way, he wanted her in his movie. He grinned. “Okay with you?”
“Okay. You sure you’ve got the time?”
“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He thought for a minute. “You’ve got a rental car, right?”
“Right.” She looked curious again.
“Let’s take your car.” He made a face. “I don’t want anyone getting pictures of you. Not yet, anyway.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Paparazzi?”
“Carloads of them.”
Katy let Dayne drive, and from the moment they left the studio, the day felt like something from a movie. The sun was high in the sky as they drove toward Santa Monica Boulevard and eventually to Pacific Coast Highway.
“Ever been to Malibu Beach?”
“No. Is it beautiful?” She shifted so she could see him better.
“Not really.” He laughed. “Not compared to some of the island beaches I’ve been to.” He shrugged. “But it’s nice enough.”
“Is that where we’re going?”
“Not first.” He grinned at her. “First I take you through the infamous KFC drive-thru.”
“Really? Wow, I never would’ve guessed.” She felt her eyes dancing. Here she was, driving down Pacific Coast Highway with Dayne Matthews, and nothing could’ve felt more normal in all the world. He was funny and self-deprecating, calling himself overrated and laughing at his success on more than one occasion.
They ordered a bucket of chicken and mashed potatoes at the drive-thru, and when they pulled up to the window, Dayne kept his face toward Katy. He did the same thing when he collected their meal at the next window, engaging her in conversation until the last moment when the girl at the window had the food in her hands.
“Thanks.” He took it from her and immediately turned and handed it over to Katy.
“Hey, wait . . . aren’t you—?”
Dayne was gone before she could finish her sentence. He shrugged in Katy’s direction. “Silly kids. They think just because they work in Malibu there’re movie stars around every corner.”
“Yeah.” She laughed and allowed herself to relax a little more. “Silly kids.”
They drove another few minutes, and then Dayne made a right turn, away from the water.
“I thought we were going to the beach.” Katy looked around. He was taking her into what looked like a college campus.
“Something tells me the beach’ll be too crowded.”
She was about to disagree. It wasn’t quite noon on a weekday. But then she remembered the scene at the drive-thru. Was he taking her somewhere else so he wouldn’t be recognized? It was a sobering thought, how hard he had to work—every day of his life—just to keep from being hounded by fans and photographers.
It was something she understood but hadn’t really considered.
They headed up a narrow, neatly manicured hill, past a guard station. “What is this place?”
“Pepperdine University.” He leaned close to the steering wheel and stared up the hillside. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She peered out his window at the ocean in the distance. The higher they climbed, the more breathtaking the view became. “I’ve heard of this place. One of my friends in high school came here.”
They turned left into a parking lot, found a space to park, and carried their lunch down a pathway toward an endless grassy hillside. The area was deserted, and Dayne kept his pace slow and easy. “It’s always empty like this.” He squinted across the field toward the water. “All this grass and the view, and the students are too busy taking classes to get down here and enjoy it.”
“It feels so private.”
“That’s the best part of all.” He led her to one end of a bench; then he sat at the other end and put their food between them. When they’d each taken a plate and served themselves, Dayne stretched out his legs. “So, Katy Hart, tell me about your job in Bloomington.”
The request caught her off guard. She’d expected something about the film or the expectations he and Mitch Henry would have for her if they offered her the part. She wondered if he was genuinely interested or if this was part of a casual interview. She held her plate with both hands and watched a pair of geese waddle past them toward a small pond. “I guess you know the name of the group. Christian Kids Theater. We go by CKT.”
“Right.” He looked up, concentration written into his features. “Theater by kids, for kids, if I remember.”
“That’s it.” She smiled. “We’re doing Tom Sawyer; I think I
told you.”
“Ah yes.” He took a swig of his Diet Coke. “I was invited to help paint sets.”
She laughed. “Exactly.” She took a long, slow breath. “I love everything about CKT.” Her eyes settled on the blue sky overhead. “The kids, the shows, the parents. It’s a ton of work, but to sit in that theater and watch a production come to life, one that you helped create . . .” She looked at him. “There’s nothing more satisfying.”
He studied her for a moment. “Then why are you here?”
“For the audition?”
“Right.” There was no judgment in his eyes. “If it’s so fulfilling, why didn’t you tell me no?”
“Because . . .” She wasn’t sure how much to tell him. But the combination of the warm ocean breeze and the solitude around them made her more willing to talk. “Because a long time ago I wanted this—your world—more than anything in all my life.” She smiled. “You know about my pilot.”
“And I know you quit going to auditions shortly after.” Dayne searched her eyes. “What happened?”
A wave of emotion hit her without warning. She looked down at the dirt path beneath their feet. “It’s a long story.” When her voice didn’t feel quite so thick, she tried to sum it up. “Let’s just say I grew disillusioned.”
“With the business?”
“With the lifestyle. The nightlife, I guess.”
Dayne gave a slow nod. “Yes, that’s the rap we get. Wild and crazy partiers, all of us.” He leaned his head back and released a low moan. When he looked at her again, there was a pleading in his eyes. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Katy.” His expression was suddenly serious. “Yes, it’s a problem for some people. Too much fame and money, drugs become easily available. But most of us stay away from that stuff.”
She didn’t know him well enough to call him on his statement, but a few times she’d read one of the Hollywood magazines, and almost always they would catch Dayne at some nightclub or dance place. “You don’t do the nightlife game?”
“Once in a while.” He set his plate down between them, gripped the edge of the bench, and leaned back, his shoulder muscles bunched up around the base of his neck. “I go out with a few friends, have a couple drinks, and the magazines call me a wild playboy.” He cocked his head and found her eyes again. “Most of the time, I spend the night at home watching movies by myself.”