Kiss and Make Up Read online

  Tabby’s eyes nearly fell out of her head, her cheeks went scarlet, and she coughed as she choked on the apple.

  “All right, love? Go down the wrong way?”

  …

  “That’s what she said.” Mick appeared beside them at the table and glanced over at her. “You all right, Tabby?”

  “I’m fine,” she squeaked. Eli was incorrigible. She’d been close to needing the Heimlich maneuver. He offered her a glass of water, and she took a large gulp before coughing again.

  Mick looked at Eli’s tray. “Are you feeding the five thousand, or are you going to eat all that?”

  “It’s all for me. I have a large appetite.” The twinkle in his eyes suggested he wasn’t referring to the food.

  Tabby had lain awake for hours after she’d returned home from their encounter, scolding herself for being so weak. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be alone with him again, wouldn’t let him charm her with his good looks, his fabulous body, or his sweet talk. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten the memo. Keeping him at arm’s length was going to be like fighting off a frisky tiger.

  “Coming outside?” Mick asked them.

  “Sure.” She followed him, well aware Eli was watching her as she walked in front of him.

  Outside the tent, the April weather was pleasant, and they sat at a table with a couple of other actors, enjoying the warm sunshine. She ate quietly, a little starstruck by them all, and watched Eli polish off his huge tray of food. Then, minutes after he’d finished, he jumped up and grabbed his skateboard.

  “Shouldn’t you wait until your dinner goes down?” she called.

  “That’s swimming.” He started going along the road in front of the food tent, back and forth, agile and nimble atop the precarious board.

  “He’ll never sit still after a meal,” Mick said, collecting their trays. He nodded to her. “Catch you later—I’ve got a meeting.”

  “See you later, Mick.” The other actors had already left, but Tabby remained sitting and soaked up the sun, enjoying watching Eli too much to go back just yet.

  After another five minutes, he stopped in front of her, flipped up the board, and leaped onto the wide three-foot-high wall running down the side of the road.

  “What are you doing?” she asked mildly as he balanced the skateboard on the top and stood on top of it.

  “Trying to convince you.” He sailed along the top, pushed off the end, and flipped the skateboard over before landing on the ground. But he mistimed it and stumbled back, landing unceremoniously on his butt. “Ouch.”

  “Ooh,” she said. “I’m all aquiver.”

  He pushed himself to his feet and gave her a sarcastic look. Stamping on the end of the board to flip it up, he caught it, then went back to the wall and did the whole thing again. This time he landed on the board, spun it a hundred and eighty degrees, and turned to face her. His eyes were hot, challenging. “Well?”

  “A twenty-six-year-old man on a skateboard. Hmm, very mature.”

  He stepped closer to her and fixed her with his intense, blue-eyed gaze. “Tell me you don’t want to have sex with me, right now.”

  She stood. He was, quite possibly, the sexiest man she’d ever met in her entire life. His confidence in his own body and his toned physique made her heart race. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

  She walked up, moistened her lips with her tongue, and couldn’t help but notice that his gaze dropped to watch.

  “Keep trying,” she said. And then she turned and walked away.

  …

  So he did. He’d seen the way her eyes lit up when he performed in front of her, so from then on he tried every trick he could think of. One day he walked on his hands and did cartwheels, which would have been more impressive if his change hadn’t kept falling out of his pockets. Another day he gave a juggling performance, which he often practiced for hand-eye coordination, starting with two, then three, then four, and even five balls. It attracted quite a crowd, especially when Mick joined in, and they carried out a routine they hadn’t practiced since childhood, juggling three balls each, and passing them to each other as they widened the distance between them. They were pretty bad at it, but it made Tabby laugh, and he assumed the pretty flush that appeared in her cheeks was a good sign.

  He often caught her watching him—sometimes between shots when he threw a rugby ball around with the guys or exercised on his own on the trampoline. Occasionally he’d spot her during takes, as he jumped from one moving horse to another or fell down flights of stairs.

  In spite of the fact that she’d agreed his ex had been out of order in asking him to give up his career, he wondered whether Tabby would begin to comment on his work and express concern at the risks he took. One afternoon he mistimed a fall and limped off the set with a tender knee. He sat to one side with an ice pack from first aid and pulled a face as she walked up to him, raising an eyebrow. He waited for her to look at him the same way his ex had done when she’d spoken to him about his career. “Are you going to scold me?”

  “What am I, your mother?”

  “Oh, so you don’t mind seeing me wounded?”

  She folded her arms. “You’re a stuntman. You throw yourself down stairs for a living. You think I’m shocked you get the occasional injury?”

  “I thought you might weep, throw yourself at my feet, and beg me not to return to the fray.”

  Her eyes were warm. She knew why he was fishing. “You’re a big boy, Eli—I’m sure you can cope.”

  He could have kissed her, but he played along and feigned a glare. “Thanks for the sympathy.”

  “You’ve only banged your knee. Stop being such a wuss.”

  He huffed a sigh. “A bit of fuss would be nice.”

  “Don’t sulk. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

  He watched her walk off, unable to stop a smile from spreading across his face. Every interaction he had with her made him want her a little more. She spent enough time with him to convince him she was interested in another attempt at a tryst, but they couldn’t seem to get the timing right—either she was busy making up other actors, or she was free and he was in the middle of a shoot, or there were hordes of people around. He had to get her alone again.

  By Thursday, he’d reached the end of his patience. They were going on location over the weekend, and he wasn’t sure how much time they’d be able to have together while they were away. And he couldn’t last until they got back. He visited her workroom around six and Tabby removed his makeup, but then she got caught up with a bunch of extras, and Madeleine came in to ask if he had ten minutes to discuss the work for the following week. By the time he wandered back down to her room, the clock read seven.

  This part of the building was nearly empty. Geoff and half a dozen other crew members were over in the editing suite. Most of the cast and crew had gone out to celebrate the lead actress’s birthday. Eli had watched them go and had seen that Tabby wasn’t among them, and had come to check the makeup room to see if she’d stayed behind.

  He paused a few feet from the doorway, hearing voices—Tabby’s light tone, plus another, deeper voice. He walked up and leaned on the doorjamb, and found Will Daniells talking to her. They faced away from him—Tabby was cleaning up bottles from a table, and Will stood next to her.

  They were close together, Will almost brushing her arm as he leaned in conspiratorially. Tabby smiled at something he said, and Eli’s heart did a strange tightening thing that was almost painful. Was the other guy winning her over?

  He frowned. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and neither was she. Of course she was free to date other men. So why did he feel so disappointed?

  At that moment, Daniells straightened and placed his hands on Tabby’s shoulders, turning her toward him. Putting his arms around her, he kissed her soundly, one hand on the back of her head, one on her ass.

  Eli’s body jerked, but he forced himself to stay still. Turn away, he tried to tell himself. But all he could do was sta
re and wait for Tabby’s reaction.

  She stood frozen with a bottle in one hand and a mug full of brushes in the other. Slowly, she put down the mug, then reached behind her back for the bottle in her other hand and put that down, too.

  If she closes her eyes, Eli thought, I’m outta here.

  She placed both hands on Will’s chest and shoved him. He stepped back, and a resounding crack filled the room as she slapped his face.

  Eli burst out laughing.

  They both turned to look at him, Will glowering and Tabby shocked. Pleasure flooded him as her surprise morphed into obvious relief when she saw who it was.

  Without looking at her, Will picked up his jacket and stormed toward the door. He paused as he passed Eli and muttered, “Good luck with that one. Frigid as a fucking ice cube.” And he marched down the corridor.

  He tried to ignore the possessive urge to yell at Will, She’s mine. He turned back to the room. Tabby stood with arms crossed, watching him.

  He walked up to her, wanting to take her in his arms, but conscious that although she didn’t belong to Will, she didn’t belong to him either. Yet. “What did he do?”

  “Stuck his tongue in my mouth.” She gave a theatrical shudder. “I wish I had some mouthwash.”

  Anger flooded through him, scorching hot, and he had to use every ounce of willpower he possessed not to go storming off down the corridor to pound the guy into a pulp. But he knew Tabby wouldn’t want that. She was fiercely independent and had stuck up for herself well—she didn’t need him flying to the rescue. Daniells was an idiot, and someone needed to teach him it wasn’t okay to march up to a woman and plant your lips on hers, especially when she’d given you no sign she was interested. But even Eli had to admit that Will was a decent enough guy, and was just one of those men who didn’t realize how men could scare women with their sheer strength.

  Eli stuck his hands in his pockets and tipped his head at her, keeping his voice light. “You sure you don’t want me to break his nose?”

  To his surprise, she walked up to him and slid her arms around him, resting her cheek on his chest. He took his hands out of his pockets and enfolded her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. “Hey, come on. The guy’s a fucking idiot. He’s not worth getting upset over.”

  “It’s not that.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. She pulled back a little, looking up at him with her huge brown eyes.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he said. “I’ll save you from the big bad wolf, don’t worry.”

  “I know.” And then she raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  Desire fired through him, but he kept his hands on her hips, letting her dictate the pace, content with the press of her soft lips against his. It was Tabby who first opened her mouth and brushed his lips with her tongue, and he returned the gesture gently, too human not to feel a small twinge of satisfaction that she didn’t seem to mind his kiss so much.

  When she pulled back again, her breathing had quickened, and her eyes had darkened with passion. “I need you.”

  He caught her hand with his. “Come with me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Tabby’s heart pounded as Eli led her out of the makeup room and along the corridor. A wave of carelessness washed over her, replacing the distress she’d felt when Will had grabbed her and kissed her.

  Will’s kiss was ridiculous, and she wasn’t worried about being able to handle herself in a situation like that. He was just lucky she hadn’t kneed him in the balls. But she’d been surprised by the resentment and anger that had swept over her at the thought that he’d taken advantage of her. She’d promised herself no other man was ever going to make her feel helpless like that again, and even though it had just been a stupid misunderstanding—she’d laughed at a joke he’d made and he’d taken it as a sign she wanted him—the thought that she’d been vulnerable and out of control for a moment infuriated her.

  Kissing Eli was proof that she was in charge of her own life, and if she wanted to kiss a guy, she’d kiss him. She felt a little guilty about using him to prove a point, but she was sure he wouldn’t be too bothered about it.

  She’d been watching him all week, knowing he was showing off for her and loving every minute of it. The guy was a joy to watch—confident in his abilities, and with a body that never seemed to tire. He squeezed more out of life than anyone she’d ever met¸ and his enthusiasm and passion for everything from food to his job to kissing was the biggest turn-on in the world.

  He led her into the main part of the studios. Heart thumping, she asked him, “Where are we going?”

  “Trust me—we’re nearly there.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “I know. Exciting, isn’t it?”

  She giggled. “You are a terrible man, leading me astray.”

  “And you love it.” He stopped outside a door.

  She gasped. There were two meeting rooms in this part of the studios—a large boardroom with a table and chairs, used for morning meetings, and a smaller, cozier room with comfortable sofas and armchairs, used for more intimate gatherings. This was the smaller room, and Eli held up a key.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “It’s a secret.” He unlocked it and pulled her inside.

  Breathless with anticipation and nerves, Tabby faced him. She half-expected him to push her up against the wall and start unbuttoning her shirt, but instead he put his arms around her and gave her a hug.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry about Daniells. If ever you want me to stop, you just have to say so. Perhaps we could have, like, a safe phrase or something.”

  Her heart flooded with warmth at his considerate words, and at that moment all her doubts and insecurities fled. She wanted to show him how much she’d grown to like him, and how much she wanted him—she needed his lips on hers, his hands on her skin. “That won’t be necessary. I trust you, Eli.”

  He pulled back and met her gaze for a moment, then locked the door. In one smooth move, he picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Kissing her, he walked over to one of the sofas, sat down, and lay back. Tabby stretched out along him, reveling in the feel of his hard body beneath her. She lifted her head and smiled at him. “You’ve driven me crazy all week, you know.”

  “You did say to keep trying.” He moved a cushion under his head and wriggled beneath her.

  “Happy now?” she asked when he settled.

  “Yep.” He slid his hands beneath her T-shirt. “I’ve waited all week for this. I’m bloody well going to be comfortable now I’ve got you in here.”

  His hands were warm on her skin, and his touch turned up her inner thermostat by several degrees. “So you decided on Option A? The sofa with me on top?”

  “The choice was a difficult one. I thought the ‘up against a tree’ option might come in handy on location.”

  She studied him—the small gap between his teeth, raven hair sticking up all over the place—and knew her shiver wasn’t entirely due to where he was touching her. “So this isn’t it, then?”

  He slid his fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans and skimmed her hips, then brought them up her sides to her ribs again. “It’s up to you.” He stroked her back, down the sides of her arms, up to her shoulders, into her hair. “If you want me, I’m here.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from moving against him, arousing herself, enjoying the passion that flared in his eyes. “Are you enjoying being naughty, Mr. Risk-taker?”

  He pushed up with his hips, making her squeal. “I told you, I take risks for a living—I don’t need to do it in my personal life.” He kissed her shoulder. “But I’ll take you wherever I can get you.”

  A sudden surge of affection for him flooded through her. “I like to think of you falling out of trees as a kid. Jumping out of windows and landing on mattresses. Breaking tables when sword fighting with Charlie. Did you drive your mother crazy?”

  He smiled. “All the time. We broke so many
bones we had our own parking spot at the hospital.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Charlie was eleven bones, I think. I’ve broken seventeen.”

  “Seventeen? Any recent ones?”

  “Not for a couple of years. I think I’m getting better at the job.”

  She started to say I’m glad, but stopped herself before the words tumbled out. He didn’t want his girl commenting on the safety part of his job—he’d told her that.

  Hold on, since when had she become “his girl”? Don’t get all serious, Rogers. This is a fling, not a relationship. As nice as he was, she shouldn’t concentrate on his personality. This is all about his body. Concentrate on that.

  So she focused her attention on the touch of his skin beneath her fingertips, the firmness of the muscles in his chest and arms. They kissed for a while as the daylight faded, tender, lazy kisses that made her shiver with longing. He stroked down her back while his tongue played with hers, as if content to take his time and make the moment last.

  In the end, she was the one to sit up, eager to have his skin against hers without the hindrance of clothing. Once again, she expected him to step up the pace and rip off her T-shirt and bra. But although he helped her out with her top and then removed his own, afterward he lay back and admired her for a while. His appreciation made her tingle all over. Did he know how much his hot gaze was turning her on? To say nothing of the way he ran his fingers over the swell of her breasts visible above the black lacy cups.

  There was something so erotic and sensual about the way he touched her. Simon had always treated her nipples like buttons he had to press in a specific order to turn her on. But Eli’s hands were warm and gentle through the lace of her bra, continually stroking, brushing, and squeezing, as if, like the rest of him, they were restless and had a mind of their own, refusing to stay in one place for too long.

  If he continued to be so tender and gentle, she was going to cry. This wasn’t why she’d suggested they get together—she’d wanted the physical pleasure and instant gratification she’d presumed came with a one-night stand. She didn’t want her heart to get involved, and every affectionate glance he gave her, every loving touch, unraveled her that little bit more.