Hollywood Hearts (Steamy Standalone Instalove)

If only they knew.

The years of agony, torment, and tears far worse than today. Every time I went to class or got on the bus. The locker room jeers and schoolyard pranks.

All because I was never quite one of the beautiful people, or because I’m just not naturally tall and thin.

Strange though, that it’s Hollywood that accepts me. Makes me feel like a queen. Sees things and brings them out, even if I can’t accept them as part of myself.

I stand admiring myself, collecting myself really as I see a hundred reasons not to cry.

But the biggest reason is behind me, his huge warm hands gently clutching my shoulders from behind.

“You look stunning,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss my neck but stopping himself. Making me wish he wouldn’t stop. Not now, not ever.

But like I said, he’s a gentleman. For the most part.

Jack’s changed outfits himself. From fashionable casual chinos and shirt to a full three piece tuxedo, which he fills perfectly and has a single rose in his lapel to match my dress.

I watch his hands disappear from my shoulders and reappear in front of me, gently placing what looks like a diamond studded necklace on me before he clasps it at the back.

“There,” he says gently. “Now we can blend in as I show you around,” he says with a smile, his own hands lingering on me as long as they can.

“Are these real?” I hear myself ask, tracing a finger over one of the largest stones.

Jack shrugs and then smiles. “We’re in Hollywood, what is real?” he asks and offers me his arm which I take without hesitation.

They feel real.

Not that I’d know.

But one thing I do know is that Jack is real and how I’m feeling is real. I tell him again that the day so far has been perfect.

“I just don’t want any of this to end.” I confess, noting his look that asks the question, ‘who says it has to end?’

Chapter Ten

Jack

I owe Denise an apology, although I probably wouldn’t put it that way to her in person.

She’s arranged things pretty well so far, turning what I dreaded being a cringe-worthy day with a boring studio tour into something magical.

Magical for Olivia, having her treated the way she deserves, but I’d feel just as special with her on my arm if she had gray sweats and a T-shirt on.

A mental image I find just as interesting as watching her curves move under then red dress as she walks.

Once we’re out of the wardrobe department we take a stroll around various sets that aren’t filming. I introduce Olivia to a few faces I know she’d like and maybe a few she doesn’t even know.

But after an hour or so of sightseeing, a familiar voice stops me in my tracks. Making me wonder if it’s the end of the fairytale day so far.

“Jack Mercury. I should call security, have you thrown off the lot,” a gruff voice almost shouts from behind us.

I feel Olivia tense up on my arm, but I whisper to her that I can handle it from here.

Turning with a smile and a suave wave of recognition, I introduce Ms. Olivia Fanning to the studio’s senior executive and head of production, Marcel Goodwyn.

I half expect to be told to get out of the borrowed clothes and leave, until I notice the aging studio executive having a light globe moment once he sees Olivia.

“Actually, you’re just the man I was looking for, Jack. You and your latest companion,” he drawls, smiling to himself and changing his mood faster than any actor could, and with way more conviction.

“I need you, but only for a moment. A second unit’s having trouble with some talent,” he says mysteriously.

“Glad to help,” I lie, knowing this guy never asks for a favor, only knows how to use people. But seeing as I’m probably trespassing, anything to take his focus off that is worth it, for Olivia’s sake.

“Good,” he announces. “Kissing lesson, Jack. Your last movies stunk but you do have presence. You know how to kiss for the camera. I need you to show some younger talent just how it’s done.”

I hear a low sound coming deep from somewhere inside me.

I’m not working today and I don’t feel like kissing some wannabe actress.

Anything that gets between me and Olivia, what’s mine, right now isn’t something I have time for.

“Can’t kiss her yourself?” I tease Marcel, knowing it’s not a good idea to taunt him in his face. Especially when I’m still growling.

“I’d love to see you shoot a real scene,” Olivia pipes in, but I can see a look in her eyes that isn’t excited about seeing me kiss someone else. Even if it is just for the cameras.

“That settles it then, Jack. Sound stage four, ten minutes,” he says sharply before eyeing Olivia up and down one final time. A look of satisfaction on his face before he turns on his heel, leaving us both alone again.