Page 65 of Last First Kiss
“Chevy Impala?” Rocco asked as they buckled up. It was already past eight at night and they were both beat.
She laughed. They were still playing this? “Nope. You’ll never guess.”
They’d been shooting for twelve straight hours, and when the mosquitoes became vampiric and Julia had a fit, Spelling wrapped up production for the day. “So what did you think, crazy?”
“Sometimes I’m crazy and sometimes I’m Tiger?”
“You’re always a little bit of both.” He reached for her hand and squeezed. “But I like both. So, tell me, your first day on a set, what did you think?”
“I’m impressed. You really take on a different persona.”
“Ye of little faith,” he said as he exited the park and headed onto the highway.
“I had faith. I’ve seen your movies. But this is different and you know it. You’re like . . . another person. Physically, your voice, mannerisms, everything. Did you study him?”
He smiled and looked at her before looking back onto the road. “I Googled him. There’s some videos, mostly homemade things. He was very private.”
“Obviously. He was wanted by everyone. Murder, drug trafficking, you name it.”
“Yeah, but even in his circle, he was private. They say he was paranoid. He thought everyone was the enemy. The ransom on his head was huge—if anyone talked, they’d be rich. So he kept quiet, not trusting even his inner sanctum. It’s rumored he even had doubles.”
“You think he’s still alive?”
“Hard to know. But if he is, he’d be ninety-one. So if that’s what you’re thinking . . .”
“No. No!” She shook her head. “I’m pretty certain it’s not one particular individual but just a group of people who idolize him.”
“Well, it seems pretty quiet now.”
“You do remember a brick being tossed through your balcony window last week, right?”
“Yeah, but they were caught and they were just kids. Overzealous people trying to scare me.”
“And you’re not.”
He turned and winked. “I’ve got the best bodyguard in the world, how could I be?”
She rolled her eyes and tried to hide a smile but then she remembered Julia. Ugh!
The thought of Julia touching him was engraved into her brain and she couldn’t shake it off. She had to, though. The scenes called for more than just a little touch. At some point they’d have to kiss and she had to deal with it. Anyway, he wasn’t hers. Having sex once didn’t make him hers. She had no right to get possessive, even if every nerve ending in her body wanted her to yell at the top of her lungs, He’s mine! Stay away!
He was turning her into an immature brat and she hated herself for it. He was a thirty-seven-year-old man. She was an inexperienced twenty-seven-year-old woman, and the last thing Rocco would want was a ridiculous childish spectacle.
But as if he could read her mind, he said, seemingly absentmindedly, “you know, Julia’s just a co-star. There’s nothing between us.”
“You don’t need—”
The grip on his hand on the steering wheel tightened and he looked upset—angry, even. “I don’t need to what? Explain? You don’t care what happens with me and another woman?” She was glad they were almost home, she didn’t really want to have this conversation. She was having a hard time differentiating between Rocco the man and Rocco the actor.
“I do care,” she said letting go of his hand and undoing her ponytail and then redoing it.
“You do that when you’re nervous or upset.” She let go of her hair and glared at him even though it surprised her that he knew that. No one had ever called her out on that. Or maybe no one had ever noticed her nervous habit. “I’m not nervous or upset,” she lied.
They arrived at his house and he parked the car. “Stay here,” she said as the garage door closed behind them.
“We’re not done with this conversation.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Don’t move until I come back,” she said, slamming the door behind her.
