I’m so late!
I can’t believe I’m late on my first day back at filming.
After flying back to L.A last night, I hadn’t been able to sleep without Kaden by my side and when I’d finally managed to drift off, I completely slept through my alarm!
I called the coffee place near the studio and ordered so it would be ready when I arrived.
I’m late because I stopped to grab everyone coffee: that excuse never goes out of style.
I pull into the lot, only about ten minutes late over all so I strut into the studio feeling confident, feeling cool.
Totally not late.
Totally didn’t sleep in.
And I totally walk into a six-foot wall of hard chest!
The sudden collision sends me reeling back onto my butt, hot coffee exploding over both me and the unlucky stranger in my way.
Ouch.
I give my arms a shake at my sides, and wonder if I should bother getting up or just wish for the ground to open up and swallow me.
“Oh my, I’m so sorr…” I look up at him and my words dissolve. “You’re Luke Hart.”
He’s even better looking in person and somehow even more imposing.
His wavy brown hair is cut short but still manages to curl around his ears and fall into his eyes. Loose-fitting jeans hang off his narrow hips and the white shirt stretching over his wide, muscular chest is now stained a light brown.
More coffee runs down his arms and drips from his fingertips.
“Perceptive,” he says, his voice strained but still holding that quiet, dangerous strength that’s been making women swoon all over the world.
This is easily the worst thing I’ve ever done.
And, to my horror, I feel something fluttering in my chest.
My shoulders start shaking.
I can’t stop it!
I slap a hand over my mouth but it only slightly muffles the laugh. I try to stop it but that just makes things worse.
Luke glares down at me.
“Exactly how is this funny?” he demands, signaling at his stained shirt as the coffee is still running down his arms.
“It’s so not funny,” I squeak but my shoulders start shaking again and I have to slap that hand over my mouth to hold it in or at least make my laughing less loud.
A snort sneaks through and I laugh even harder.
His glare turns into a look of incongruity then, clearly against his own better judgment his lips twitch, his shoulders start shuddering and suddenly he’s laughing too.
I can’t even imagine how insane we must look. Me on my butt and both of us covered in coffee, laughing like hyenas.
“What is going on over—” Wade, the director, cuts off abruptly when he sees us. “Claire?”
After a giggle and a cough I manage a gruff, “Hi, Wade.”
Luke holds out a hand and after only a brief hesitation, I take it and let him pull me to my feet.
It’s sort of weird.
I expected a zap of electricity—I mean, he’s Luke Hart.
But though his hand is much larger than mine, the palms soft, dry, and cool, it just feels like any other normal guy’s hand.
Which, of course, it is.
Being a super celebrity and big screen heartthrob doesn’t make a man a demigod. He holds my hand for longer then he needs to.
“Well,” Wade says, looking from me to Luke and back to me again, wrinkling his nose at the pool of coffee at our feet and dripping from our clothes. “It’s good to see you here, Luke. I was hoping we’d get a chance to speak before shooting starts. And I see you’ve met our producer, Claire Snow.”
I have to stifle a sigh.
I’d thought I’d left my klutzy days back with my tiny apartment but apparently they’re back.
I waggle my fingers at him and smile ruefully. “I think first impressions are so important.”
This sends him into another fit of chuckling.
“Miss Snow, I will not forget this meeting any time soon.”