An Unexpected Affair by Elizabeth Lennox
Chapter 4
Sunday. Was there any day that was more wonderful and beautiful? A whole day of doing nothing. Evie was going to go over her lines a few times with her coach, but that was it. She wasn’t going to work out. She wasn’t going to even think about anything movie related. She was going to cook! She’d just finished making a pot of chili that she could pop into the microwave for dinner during the coming week. Maybe she’d make bread next! Was there anything as wonderful as fresh baked bread? Oooh! Or maybe she’d make cookies!
The buzzer interrupted Evie’s concentration and she groaned, lifting the pot of chili off the stove and setting it on the hot pad. “Coming!” she called out, even though she knew whoever it was couldn’t hear her. They were at the end of her driveway, waiting for her to press the button that would open the gate at the end and allow them to drive towards the house. With her elbow, she hit the button, then hurried back to the counter to finish ladling the chili into smaller containers.
She’d left the front door open, letting Clara, her lines coach, know that she should just come on in.
Evie heard the car come up the driveway and park next to the house. She heard the door slam but didn’t pay much attention as she sprinkled grated cheese over each container. “Perfect!” She whispered, grabbing the lids.
“What the hell have you been doing all week?”
Evie jumped, plastic lids flying in every direction as she spun around.
Brock!
He stood in the kitchen doorway, looking tall and powerful and more shockingly handsome than ever. Wasn’t she mad at him? Didn’t she hate the man with an anger that consumed her most nights? Yes, that was correct.
So, why was her heart pounding as she took in the view of his broad shoulders, flat stomach, and long, lean legs? Jeans. Huh! The man owned a pair of jeans! How surprising. She had him pegged as a slacks guy.
“What…?” She stopped and cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, trying to gather her wits as she gathered the plastic lids.
He bent down to help her and even that small kindness surprised her. Unfortunately, with him being so close, close enough that she could smell the enticing, male scent of him, her fingers just wouldn’t obey her. The tops she’d already gathered sprang out of her hands, scattering again on the wood floor.
“I came here to talk to you,” he said, gathering up more tops. When his hands were full, he stood up and placed them carefully on the granite countertop.
Evie stood as well, spilling her tops across the countertop. “Oh. Well. Um…” she was flustered and didn’t understand why. All week, she’d stood up to him, played with him when he patronized her and refused to let him get to her. She hated him. Her anger and fury over the way he’d treated her should have fueled that anger. But he was here. In her house. And everything seemed different somehow. “I think we said everything we needed to say yesterday. Today is my day off. I’m…!”
“I’m talking about you playing the idiot on the set.”
Evie smothered a smile. Yeah, that comment made a difference. She stifled her amusement and started stacking the chaotic tops. “Well, it was clear you didn’t think I’d memorized my lines. So, I was just…” she turned her head away so he couldn’t see the laughter in her eyes. “I was simply living up to your expectations.”
She started snapping the lids onto the filled containers.
“I’m sorry.”
Evie heard the words and her hands stilled. For a long moment, she simply blinked down at the counter, not sure that she’d heard him correctly.
“Did you just…apologize?”
Brock started helping her cover the containers of food. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I realize that I was…wrong.” He looked out the window, then shook his head. “About you.” It sounded as if he was speaking through clenched teeth. Obviously, the man didn’t apologize often!
She smiled, feeling rather smug. Triumphant even!
“Well, thank you very much. That’s very…” she searched for the right word, but drew a blank. She settled on, “…gentlemanly of you.”
Apparently, that was the end of his contrition because he pointed to the script that he’d tossed onto the counter. “Monday is going to be another rough week of filming. You start the murder scenes first thing Monday morning.” He grabbed the last lid and snapped it into place. “I’m changing the script.”
“Why would you do that?” She stacked the containers carefully. “I love Lucy’s reaction. She’s just murdered her first victim. She’s on top of the world.”
Brock stacked up the remaining containers and followed her to the fridge, handing them to her as she made space in the fridge. “I know, but I want Lucy to be upset about the murder.”
Evie spun around, confronting him. “But being excited sets up the next scene! It’s the whole reason why she kills the second time. Murdering the men who used and abused her gives her the power she craves. It gives her control. She didn’t have control growing up in the shadow of her verbally and emotionally abusive parents.”
“I agree that it gives her control,” he replied, walking over to the stove and sniffing the remainder of the chili curiously. “This smells fantastic.”
Evie handed him a bowl. “Help yourself. I always make more than enough.”
Brock didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the ladle and served himself a large portion.
“Thanks. I’m starving.” He took a second bowl from the shelf. “You need to eat too. You’ve lost weight this week.”
Evie laughed, but she accepted the heaping bowl. “Thanks. I am hungry.” She grabbed spoons, then led him out onto her patio. “I still think Lucy should be excited.”
Brock followed, sitting down opposite her. “What if Lucy is traumatized by the murder and panics during the cleanup, but when she’s finished cleaning up, she turns back to stare at the door? In the current script, she rushes out of the house. She’s almost dismissive of the murder.”
“Right. She’s unaffected,” Evie pointed out, taking a spoonful of her chili. It was rich and thick with vegetables and ground turkey, spices, and heat. It was perfect! “Her reaction shows that she’s a cold, merciless killer.”
Brock nodded. “Exactly. I thought about it all week. I want her to evolve into that aspect a bit more slowly. So, for the first murder, why not have her panic a bit, but at the door, she turns around and pauses, her eyes move slowly over the victim? We can flash back to when the senator was pushing her sexually, intermingle those flashbacks with images of her parents yelling at her as a child.”
“Showing that her anger coalesces into the rage she now feels towards men who try to assault her?”
“Exactly.”
Evie stirred her chili thoughtfully. It would mean a dramatic change in the script. “I like it,” she agreed, nodding her head. “It shows a more realistic evolution of her state of mind. She’ll ease into the role of a serial killer instead of just jumping in.”
He took a bite of the chili. “Wow! This is really good!” Brock exclaimed. “Did you make this chili yourself?”
“Yes. I love to cook, but I rarely have the time.”
He shot her a strange look. “I thought…?”
She smiled and stood up, walking over to the table where a pitcher of ice water and several glasses sat. “I know what you thought. And you’re wrong. But whatever,” she handed him a glass of water, and poured one for herself. “I think that the next scene, where Lucy is back at work the next day should start outside. When she’s walking into the building.”
He took a long drink, draining half the glass before setting it onto the table. “Why would we start there?”
Unconsciously, she leaned forward. “The way I see it, if you’re changing the script so that Lucy is initially panicked from her first killing, then shouldn’t she be nervous about going into work the next day?”
“Lucy is only nervous about the killing immediately after the victim dies.”
“Yes, but…”
He pointed his spoon towards her. “Remember, she’s going to look back and feel a surge of power and control as she leaves the house.”
“Agreed. But she’ll still worry about being caught. She’s not completely unfeeling. At least, not yet. That happens later. And if you’re going to have Lucy evolve into a serial killer, if she’s going to panic initially, then shouldn’t she be more emotional the next day?”
“Why should she? She’s still vibrating with the power killing gave her.”
Evie tapped her finger on the handle of her spoon, her mind whirling with the possibilities. “I get that. But that would turn Lucy into a serial killer too soon. That first victim, she’s panicked about what she’s done, although she feels a sense of triumph.”
“Control, more than triumph.”
Evie waved her spoon in the air. “Right. Control. She finally feels in control. My point is, that if you leave out her evolution, then the movie becomes more of a murder mystery. The way I read the script initially, and the reason I was so intrigued, was because Lucy becomes a commentary on our social values and mores. She parallels the way we’ve evolved into a throw-away society. When something doesn’t work, we just throw it away.” She stood up and refilled her water glass.
He stopped and stared at her for a long moment. “You got that?”
Evie bristled briefly, then she turned and, with wide eyes, blinked at him over her shoulder. “I get a lot of things,” she replied, then giggled vapidly. “I mean, I didn’t get the joke on the second page, but who did?”
Brock stared at her for a long moment, and rolled his eyes. “Fine!” He threw his hands in the air. “I get it. I’ve underestimated you for the last time.”
Evie turned from the table with the pitcher of water, not sure if she was more amused or impressed that he’d conceded so completely. “Thank you.” As she returned to her chair, her amusement dissipated and she eyed him seriously, needing him to understand the depth of her commitment to this movie. Needing him to understand that she wanted this film to succeed just as much, if not more, than he did. “This is an excellent script. I know that you don’t trust me. I know that the rest of the world doesn’t trust me. But think about it this way,” she leaned in closer. “Everyone will see my name in the headlines, then they’ll see that you’re directing the movie. The dichotomy between your ultra-cerebral films and my panache for stupid, flighty characters or ridiculous horror flicks will garner curiosity.” Her eager smile suddenly disappeared. “I can do this! I’m in. One hundred percent. I’m a good actor. Just…let me do my job.”
Brock looked down at her, startled by a sudden bolt of tenderness. She was so damn beautiful. And after this past week, he now knew she was a very talented actor. She was smart, funny, and…damn it, she was even nice! The rest of the crew loved her. There were so many celebrities who treated the rest of the cast and crew like serfs, put on the earth to serve them. Not Evie. Hell, he’d even seen her bring in a batch of cupcakes for one of the grips the other day. Apparently, it had been his birthday.
He’d been wrong about her. Looking into those amazing, silver eyes of hers, he knew that he’d been a complete ass. “Fine. You’re in. One hundred percent.”
She beamed. And that damn dimple appeared. He was going to have to tell her to stop doing that, he mentally grumbled. But as he watched her, he suspected that there was something behind that smile. What was it? Or was she acting again? With Evie, he’d never know. She was just that good, he thought.
“Good. Well then…”
“I’ll help you clean up dinner,” he blurted. “I didn’t mean to invade your evening like this.”
She started to shake her head and froze. “Oh good grief!” She hurried inside, grabbed her cell phone and flipped through the messages. “Darn it!”
Brock followed her, carrying the bowls and spoons in one hand, and the water glasses in the other. “What’s wrong?”
Evie looked up at Brock, trying to hide her worry. “Nothing,” she said blandly, smiling as she set her phone down. “Nothing important.”
Brock’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he pressed the top onto the bowl of leftover chili. “Obviously something just happened. What’s wrong?”
She shrugged and took the container of chili, being extra careful not to touch him. Evie wasn’t sure why, but she really didn’t want to touch Brock in any way. Absolutely no skin contact!
“Really, it’s nothing.”
Brock’s hands fisted on his hips and he glared at her. She snickered. “Don’t even try it, Brock. Save the intimidation for someone else because it won’t work on me.”
Okay, that was a complete lie, she thought as she turned her back on him, placing the grated cheese in the fridge. For several moments, she stood there, feeling Brock behind her. He was just so big and tall and…well, he had too many muscles. His body seemed to radiate heat. She could feel him, even though he was still over a foot away from her.
“Evie, you asked me to trust you about your acting and I concede that you’re good. Great, even. I apologized.” She stiffened, knowing exactly where this was heading. “I’d like to try to put our contentious past behind us. Maybe even…be friends?”
She turned and, sure enough, he was right there. Close enough that she could reach out and touch him. But no. She wasn’t going to touch him. She wasn’t going to kiss him. Darn it, a leading actor having an affair with the movie’s director was so cliché! The only thing more cliché was an affair with the leading actor. Movie sets were bubbles and everyone worked so closely together for such long hours. The cast and crew became a family. So, it wasn’t surprising that there were so many hookups on a movie set.
“I’d like to be friends,” she replied.
“Friends rely on each other when something bad happens.”
Evie stiffened, shaking her head. “It isn’t anything bad. I promise you that.”
“Good. Then what has you so flustered?”
Evie laughed nervously, and stepped quickly away. She didn’t stop until she’d put the kitchen island between them. Despite her anger towards him over the past week, and ignoring the fact that he forced her to sign a ridiculous, humiliating contract in order to get this part …yes, despite all of that, she sort of, maybe…liked the guy. She definitely respected him. He was a hard worker and acknowledged good work from others. The crew respected him as well. Almost to the point of being in awe of him, which had been a bit nauseating initially.
After talking with him for the past couple of hours, sharing a meal and ideas with him…well, what she felt for him seemed…different now.
How could just one night, only a few hours, have completely changed her opinion
“My lines coach canceled on me,” she blurted. Then blinked because she hadn’t expected to tell him that. So, why had she?
“That’s all?” he asked, looking…relieved? Why would he be relieved about something like that?
“What did you think I was going to say?” she asked suspiciously.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Over the past week, I’ve learned never to anticipate anything when it comes to you. Because, and this moment proves my point beautifully, as soon as I assume something, you give me the exact opposite.”
A faint smile played over her lips. “Well, it’s not a big deal. I already know my lines. I memorized the script before we started filming.”
He nodded, as if accepting her words. “Do you review the scenes every evening?”
“Yes,” she replied. Shrugging as if her process wasn’t important.
“That’s…impressive,” he filled in. She suspected “impressive” wasn’t the first word he’d thought of.
Looking down, she shuffled her bare feet, noticing that she needed a pedicure. “Well, it’s okay. I can review them–”
“I’ll help.” When she blinked bemusedly up at him, he continued. “I’ll be your line coach for tonight.” He looked around and found the script he’d brought into her house earlier, intending to go over the scenes that they’d discussed earlier.
“No, really,” she lifted her hands, backing away. “I’m fine.”
He shook his head. “Evie, I’m not going to ravage you,” he teased. He flipped through the script to the pages for the scenes they’d film the next day. His eyes narrowed as he read through the lines, then he looked up at her. “Ready?”
She crossed her arms. “I’m ready. Go for it.”
For the next hour, he fed her lines and she rehearsed the scenes. Evie laughed sometimes when he squinted at her, but she kept herself on task. But she didn’t add any inflection, which irritated him.
Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer. With exasperation, he demanded, “You’re not seriously going to say it like that on camera, are you?”
Evie rolled her eyes. “You have got to be one of the worst line coaches I’ve ever had!” and she walked over to him, nudging his hand so he’d keep reading. “Do it again. And this time, don’t critique. Save it for Monday.”
He sighed heavily and continued to feed her the lines. And just to poke the bear, Evie read the lines back to him in as deadpan a voice as she could manage without cracking up. It was difficult because he looked truly exasperated. Obviously, the Great Brock Severson couldn’t handle anything but perfection.
“Okay, that’s enough,” she declared. “It’s late and I have to face a tyrant first thing tomorrow. So…” she glanced meaningfully at him, very aware of the almost unbearable awkwardness. And darn it, she glanced at his mouth. He had a very nice mouth. A very kissable mouth!
But no! Kissing Brock wasn’t an option. No way! He might be nice right now, but he’d revert to his true form tomorrow on set.
“I’d better head out,” he replied, understanding her dismissal. “You ready for another week of filming hell?”
She grinned and nodded. “Absolutely. This week is going to be interesting. I get to kill people tomorrow!”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Blood-thirsty wench.” With those parting words, he headed towards the front door. “Thanks again for dinner. I didn’t mean to impose.”
Evie followed him, incredibly aware that he had a very nice butt. She’d never really given much thought to butts, but Brock’s was tight and firm. The denim molded to his butt like a second skin.
He turned back, obviously waiting for a response. Which meant that Evie’s cheeks flamed with color and she stepped back, worried that she’d been caught. But his eyes didn’t reveal anything. Whew! That was close!
At the front door, she stood back, feeling awkward. His hand rested on the doorknob and he looked down at her, as if he wanted to say something. Or do something. Evie felt it too. She stood there, staring up at him. The moment paused, extended. Her pulse throbbed and she felt almost drawn towards him. But this was Brock! They were barely friends! So why did she want to kiss him?
As soon as the question popped into her mind, she flinched so hard she stumbled slightly. “Um…well, I’ll see you on the set tomorrow.”
He blinked down at her, looking just as startled. It took all of her concentration to paste on a polite smile, waiting for him to leave. That’s when the trembling started. Clasping her hands in front of her, she tried desperately to hide it. She couldn’t feel this way towards Brock! She simply couldn’t! It was impossible, inconceivable, and absolutely not happening!
And yet, she tingled from her head to her toes, incredibly aware of how broad his shoulders were and the way she knew, just knew, that she would fit perfectly against that hard chest! And she was positive that his strong, muscular arms would wrap around her, making her feel safe and secure, sexy and wanted.
Horrified, she mentally slammed the door on those thoughts. Good grief! No, this absolutely wasn’t happening!
“Good night, Brock,” she stammered. Even she heard the crack in her voice.
Brock’s head jerked in a nod, then he yanked the door open and walked out into the night.
For a long moment, Evie just stood there, trembling with…an awareness she would not, could not, define! It was just too abhorrent to acknowledge!
She sighed as the door closed and headed to her bedroom. Angrily, she brushed her teeth. But before she could slip into bed, she stomped right back out of her bedroom. In the gym, she grabbed her boxing gloves and let loose on the punching bag! With every punch, she ordered herself to stop thinking about Brock. He was not a sexual being. He was a jerk! And a tyrant! He’d humiliated her and made assumptions about her and her past without even showing her the respect of asking her what she’d done or where she’d been for those years! Damn him! Damn him and damn everyone else who falsely assumed the worst about a person!
Brock drove down the dark street, only half concentrating on the dangerous curves along this stretch of the neighborhood. What had gone through Evie’s mind at the door? She’d looked so soft and inviting. And then, something had flickered through her eyes. Something that she didn’t like.
Plus, had he been mistaken when they were walking out? He would have sworn that she’d been staring at his ass. Even more enlightening, when he’d turned around, her cheeks had turned an adorable shade of pink. He wouldn’t have thought that an actress who had been in the business for as long as Evie had could be embarrassed by anything. Hell, she’d even done nude scenes!
So, what the hell was going on? Did Evie feel the same intense attraction that he did? He would have sworn that she hated his guts. And to be honest, he deserved her hatred and more. He’d treated her abominably. He’d made unfounded assumptions and…well, he wasn’t proud of his recent behavior. But in the end, it had worked out better than he’d expected. The current crew on the set was much more alert and attentive than the original crew. The cast members were offering their lines with more concentration. Obviously, working on a drug free set was a boon to the entire project.
As he turned up his driveway, he couldn’t seem to get his thoughts away from Evie. She was so painfully beautiful. But there was something more.
As he moved through his darkened house, perched on the mountain at the end of the street, he admired the view of Los Angeles spread out before him. The lights of the city shimmered in the distance and everything looked beautiful. Everything was clean and pure and exciting!
So, if everything looked that way from a distance, why had he treated Evie with such disdain? From a distance, he’d assumed Evie Munroe was corrupt and a drug user. He’d even assumed that she was promiscuous.
And yet, up close, Evie wasn’t anything like that. Up close, she was sweet and kind, pure and funny. From a distance, he would have assumed that Evie Munroe was all that was bad in the film industry. But up close, Evie was beautiful, clean, pure, and…and exciting.
Yes, he admitted it. He found Evie exciting. Everything about her enticed him. Damn, she turned him on intellectually as well as physically! When she’d negotiated the terms of her contract, not just silently accepting the humiliating addendum, he’d been…turned on.
Stripping off his clothes, Brock pulled on a pair of gym shorts, and headed to his basement where he flipped on the light and, after stretching briefly, he decided on the weight bench. Adding another twenty pounds, he settled onto his back, then forced his aching, tired arms to lift the weight. Over and over, he pushed and grunted, pressing the weights above his chest, then above his head, then doing bicep curls…all in an effort to push himself to the point of exhaustion. Because Brock simply couldn’t spend another night dreaming about Evie Munroe.
