Kiss and Make Up Read online

  He glared at Will. “Why? Have you split up with Charlotte already?” Charlotte was one of the lead actresses on set, and their brief, tempestuous relationship had quickly become common knowledge.

  Will shrugged and took another bite of the sandwich. “We only went out on a few dates.”

  “She thought you were serious,” Mick said.

  “Too bad for her.” Will studied Eli. “Wait, you like this makeup chick, don’t you? Isn’t that against your personal code or something?”

  He sipped his drink. “I don’t date women I work with.”

  “Why the hell not? Geez, dude—it’s one of the perks of the job. Women fall all over themselves to go to bed with you when you’re famous.”

  Eli wiped the foam off his top lip. “Doesn’t make for a great working atmosphere the morning after, though.”

  “Are you dating anyone else, then?”

  “No. I’m not interested in getting into anything serious at the moment.”

  “Who is?” Will polished off his sandwich. “You don’t have to marry them when you take them to bed, mate. Or hasn’t anybody told you that?” He licked his fingers, oblivious to Eli’s glare and Mick’s look of disgust. “So what’s her name?”

  “Tabatha,” Eli said reluctantly, the urge to punch Will rising again.

  Will nodded. “I’ll have a chat with her tomorrow morning while she’s doing my makeup. See if she’ll come out for a drink.”

  “Knock yourself out.” Eli knew plenty of girls found Will irresistible. Somehow, he kept managing to attract women in spite of his laziness and inability to call them back in the morning. Was Tabby one of those women? She was young, and she probably hadn’t seen many movie stars. Will was famous enough to make the female extras giggle every time he walked past.

  He finished off his lager. “Another round?” he asked, pushing Tabby Rogers to the back of his mind.

  “Nah, I need to talk to Stone about something.” Will gestured toward the director at the bar. He seemed to be under the illusion the two guys would be devastated he couldn’t stay longer.

  “Shame,” Eli said, tempted to do a victory dance. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”

  “Yeah. They’re starting on the first scenes of the siege of the castle, aren’t they? Good job you’re there, Black. You can take the bruises, and let me take the credit.” Will slapped him on the back before heading over to Geoff Stone.

  Mick stuffed the last few fries in his mouth and mumbled, “Fucking idiot.”

  “Yeah, that about sums him up. Another round?”

  “Better not. Madeleine’s waiting.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow, lucky bastard.”

  Mick laughed. “Yeah. But hey—not all women are like Crazy Catherine, you know. Perhaps this makeup girl would be happy with a fling?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I’ve been burned, Mick. I’m not going there again.”

  Mick hesitated, but had obviously recognized the determination on Eli’s face, because he held up a hand. “Fair enough. See you.”

  Eli watched his friend walk off, knowing that, in spite of his insistence that he was exhausted, Mick would no doubt be getting some serious sex with his wife.

  With the big move he had coming up, Eli had been determined not to get involved with anyone before he left. Suddenly, though, he wished he were going home to a warm body, someone to keep him company through the lengthening nights.

  Briefly, his mind dwelled on Tabby. She’d liked him, he could tell, and that had been with the bad teeth and the wild hairdo. Maybe Mick was right. Maybe a fling—

  Don’t go there. They had only about a month left of filming. When he got to LA, he’d let his libido off the leash. Until then, he was going to have to cope with long runs and cold showers.

  Chapter Two

  Tabby paused in the hallway outside the makeup room, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Nerves fluttered like moths in her stomach and her mouth had gone dry. Although she was making a name for herself in New York with her body art, this was the first film set she’d worked on, and the job meant the world to her. Even though she’d already landed a place at the Delamar Academy in London starting in September, it wasn’t going to do her any harm to have a positive reference from Geoff Stone on her résumé. And today was her big day. She was to practice making up Will Daniells’s stunt double as the Atlantean King, and Geoff Stone would be coming to inspect her work in a couple of hours. If she passed, she would get to make up the lead.

  When, she told herself, lifting her chin. When she passed.

  Voices echoed from inside the room. She took another deep breath, walked forward, and paused in the open doorway, clutching her big makeup bag to her chest.

  Two men sat across from each other, laughing. She recognized Mick Forstner, Madeleine’s husband, who was tall with a stocky build, rugged good looks, and short brown hair. He sat forward, elbows on his knees, gesturing as he told a story.

  The other guy leaned back on the bench, his arms resting along the top of the seat, long legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. He wore a black T-shirt and black track pants, and his hair was short and black, too, only it looked natural, unlike Tabby’s dyed mop. With his white teeth and a dazzling smile, he was almost unrecognizable from the wild-haired warrior she’d met yesterday, but the muscular arms and the way he tipped his head as he listened to his friend gave him away.

  As she’d dozed off the night before, she’d wondered what Eli looked like beneath the makeup and terrible teeth. She wasn’t disappointed. He was every bit as handsome as she’d hoped he’d be.

  Yowza.

  At that moment, he glanced at the door, his face lighting first with surprise at seeing someone standing there, then pleasure. “Hey, Tabbs.” His gravelly voice made her shiver.

  She cleared her throat and walked into the room. “Hey, guys.” She turned her attention to Mick, trying to gather her wits as she held out a hand. “You must be Mick Forstner. I’m Tabby—the new makeup artist.”

  “Good to meet you, Tabby. I’ve heard all about you.” Mick stood and shook her hand. She didn’t miss his brief, amused glance at Eli. “I’ve seen the photos of your work—I’m sure you’ll be great.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a smile before turning to Eli. Putting down her bag, she put her hands on her hips as he smiled. “The teeth weren’t real? I’m soooo disappointed.”

  He laughed. “I’d put them back in for you, but I can’t eat anything when I’m wearing them.”

  “Which is kind of a disaster, considering he doesn’t stop stuffing his face.” Mick picked up his jacket. “I’m going for breakfast before getting made up. You two want anything?”

  “No thanks,” Tabby said. The clock on the wall read 5:30 a.m., and her system hadn’t woken up yet.

  Eli nodded. “A muffin would be cool. And one of those cream cheese bagel thingies.”

  Tabby smiled. “Healthy appetite, huh?”

  “Oh yeah,” Mick said in a tone that made her think he wasn’t referring to food. He winked at Eli. “Guess it’ll be another ten-mile run tonight?”

  Eli gave him an exasperated glare, following it with a wave. “Bye, Mick.”

  Mick walked out, his laugh echoing down the corridor.

  Not quite sure of the joke, Tabby unzipped the large bag and began to lift out the tools of her trade: tissues, brushes, Q-tips, spray bottles of water, eye drops, cotton pads, and a hundred other things to help her apply the makeup properly. The department supplied these items, but most makeup artists brought their favorite brands.

  “Have you known Mick long?” she asked, sensing a lengthier friendship beneath their camaraderie.

  “Yeah, since we were teenagers, when a group of us used to pretend we were making movies. He was always one of the stars, pretending to be Robin Hood getting shot by an arrow. Charlie and I would do the falls out of the tree.”

  “Charlie?”

  “My brother. We both wanted to be stuntmen.�
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  She pulled up a stool and sat in front of him. “And did he make it, too?”

  He was quiet for a moment, and when she looked up at him, his smile had faded. “He died, unfortunately. Not from a stunt. Cancer.”

  Tabby bit her lip and silently cursed her ability to say the wrong thing. “I’m sorry. I’ve known you for five minutes, and I’ve already screwed up.”

  “It’s okay.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t normally blurt out my life history five minutes after meeting anyone, either.”

  Not sure how to reply to that, she turned to the makeup tray she’d prepared the night before and chose a sponge. In a way, she wasn’t surprised he’d already confided in her. Madeleine—who’d decided to take Tabby under her wing—had warned her that the environment on a film set was often an intimate one, saying it sometimes took hours to make up actors and get them into costume, and this often led to a relationship that would evaporate as soon as the movie was over. Clearly it had worked out for her, considering she’d met her husband on set, but Tabby had decided she’d do her best to keep a distance between herself and those she made up.

  However, she knew she was going to have problems with Eli. Not in the least because she was already developing a crush on him. Up close, she could see he had a slight gap between his straight front teeth, and his sexy smile gave her goose bumps. His eyes were a startling blue. His physique was even more impressive than she’d first realized. The muscles of his chest were evident through his tight T-shirt, and he exuded strength and restless energy. He also smelled of baked pastries and coffee, a warm, friendly smell that made her mouth water.

  Or maybe she was salivating because she hadn’t had sex for nearly a year, and he was looking at her as if he were desperate to find out the color of her underwear.

  A naughty shiver ran through her, like she’d just seen a box of chocolates standing open on a table. Okay, she was supposed to be on a diet. But surely indulging in one little caramel wouldn’t be too dangerous?

  Oh, she was going to enjoy this next bit of her job. And besides, she’d reminded him about his deceased brother. He needed some cheering up.

  She placed the sponge back on the tray and said, “When I was young, I used to drive my mother crazy by drawing on myself. She’d only have to leave me five minutes and I’d have marker all over my arms and legs.”

  He chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she rested her hands on his knees and pushed them apart. His eyes widened as she moved her stool closer to him, in between his legs. She was being outrageously flirty, shocking herself, but she couldn’t help it. “In all painting, understanding the canvas is extremely important—in body painting it’s clarifying where the bones lie under the skin, the shape of the muscles, the angle of the jaw and cheekbones, the dips and contours in the face and body. Before I start painting, I like to do a quick survey, to familiarize myself. Is that okay with you?”

  He cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure.”

  She settled herself on the stool. “You’ll have to take your T-shirt off, I’m afraid. It’s an upper body paint.”

  His lips curved in response.

  “I mean it.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Take your shirt off.”

  He gave a little laugh, shrugging. Grabbing the top by the back of the neck, he tugged it over his head, and dropped it to the floor. Then he sat back, arms along the edge of the seat.

  “Wow,” she said, before she could stop herself.

  He laughed again. “Thank you.”

  “Sorry, that was rather unprofessional. But you have an incredible body.”

  “No need to apologize. I’m sure I’d have reacted in the same way if you’d taken off your shirt.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that part of the ritual?”

  His deep voice sent a shiver from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck. “Not so much.” She moved forward to the edge of her seat. He looked at her, a little wary. “Relax. It won’t hurt.”

  Her hands itched to touch him. Be professional, she scolded herself, but who was she kidding? There was nothing professional about what she was about to do. This was completely personal. He’d probably report her to Stone and she’d be fired for sexual harassment.

  Faltering for a moment, she met his gaze. The look in his eyes was intense, and the air between them almost shimmered with heat. He wouldn’t report her. She’d bet her life on it.

  Taking a deep breath, she cupped his face and closed her eyes.

  …

  Eli didn’t have a clue what Tabby had meant by a “quick survey,” but he’d played along, intrigued by her impish smile. She fascinated him. Today she wore jeans and a white shirt with blue stripes, an outfit that would have looked masculine on some women, but she had the right number of buttons undone for it to look sexy. He could almost imagine they’d just gotten out of bed, and she’d pulled on his shirt to make coffee.

  He also noticed that she’d decorated her hands with henna. She’d covered her pale skin with an intricate design of light brown leaves and flowers that trailed down each finger on both her left and right hands like tattoos.

  He was puzzled as to quite why he found her so appealing. He normally preferred curvy blondes, and was surprised that her slim figure, pert, high breasts, and dark hair clipped back with half-a-dozen butterfly barrettes turned him on. But somehow it did, and since she’d walked through the door, he’d been unable to tear his gaze away from her.

  The look in her dark brown eyes made him shiver. Although they’d registered sympathy when he mentioned his past—and what the hell was he doing telling her about his brother, for God’s sake? He never spoke about Charlie—she’d obviously realized he wasn’t looking for compassion and had replaced it with a wicked glint that sent his blood coursing through his body. He gave his libido a silent, stern talking-to, but as she rested her cool hands on his face, he knew the quiet reprimand wouldn’t be enough to stop his brain from picturing what she’d look like naked.

  She closed her eyes, and as she brushed his cheeks, he closed his, too. Her touch was light as she ran her fingers up his cheekbones, following the contours of his face. Her thumbs met between his eyes, then spanned up and out to follow his eyebrows. She brought them back down the line of his nose and traced the curve of his mouth, the brush of her fingers like a feather on his skin, erotic and sensual. He had to fight his instinct to turn his head and kiss her palm.

  Apparently satisfied with what she’d discovered in his face, she slid her hands up and into his hair, grazing his ears, her fingers light and yet firm as she discovered the bumps and dips of his skull. He couldn’t stop himself from shivering at her tender touch, and the way she stroked up the short hair on the back of his head.

  Did she know what she was doing to him?

  He opened his eyes to watch her. She continued to trail her hands down his neck, her thumbs coming forward to caress his Adam’s apple, dipping into the hollow of his throat.

  She fanned her hands out across the width of his shoulders, stroked his collarbone, her fingers studying and probing, and he realized this was more than a fun experiment for her—she was cataloging his bones and muscles, planning in her mind’s eye where the patterns and colors she had to paint would lie. Did she do this with every subject she worked on? Trying to ignore the fact that he didn’t like the thought of her doing this to anyone else, he continued to watch as she ran her hands down his chest and traced his ribs, outlining the muscles to his shoulders. Her fingers were so light and gentle it made him want to twitch like a dog being scratched in the sweet spot behind the ear.

  She brought her hands up to his shoulders once more and drew them along his arms, tracing his biceps and triceps, cupping his elbows. She moved down his arms to his wrists, her fingers encircling them, then took his hands in hers and ran her thumb over the long bones and knuckles, testing the width of his palms.

  Her touch was tender and yet somehow strangely impersonal, but by the end of her investigation, he was ha
rd as a rock and ready to push her up against the wall and kiss her senseless.

  She opened her eyes and placed his hands on his thighs, then went still, her eyes widening. He followed her gaze to his erection, conspicuous in his soft pants, and then looked back up to meet her eyes ruefully. “Sorry. I’m starved for affection.”

  She gave a little chuckle. “Me too. I’ve been celibate for nearly a year. I’m terrified I’m turning into a nun.”

  Eli laughed. Before he could think better of it, he leaned forward and kissed her.

  She inhaled as his lips touched hers, and he hesitated, wondering if she’d pull away. Had he misread the signs? He waited for a moment, his lips hovering, but she didn’t move. As her mouth curved in a smile, he laughed again, moved his hand to the nape of her neck, and kissed her properly.

  Chapter Three

  Tabby’s heart thumped wildly as Eli kissed her, just a press of his lips against hers, once, twice, then a longer third time, before she pulled back reluctantly.

  He let his hand fall, and they stared at each other for a long moment. What on earth was she doing, kissing an almost-stranger when she’d told herself she wasn’t going to get involved with anyone? She couldn’t blame him for kissing her—what else was the guy supposed to think when she’d just stroked him all over? Now he looked kind of awkward, as if he, too, was wondering why he’d done it.

  She pressed her lips together, dropped her gaze, and pulled the tray of makeup on its cart closer to her. “Sit back,” she instructed and popped open the lids of some of the colors she’d chosen.

  He did so, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. I kind of asked for it.”

  “Do you explore all your ‘canvases’ like that?”