ws drawing together in a V shape, giving him an expression that anyone besides Joy would have found intimidating. “I know you had to take off school a few days last week. Is that why you were at the doctor? How’s the cough?”
“Better,” Joy said as she glanced around the meticulously organized room. As the makeup department head, Seth claimed the right to privacy. His office-studio was like the calm eye of a storm. “I don’t have pneumonia,” she reported honestly. “What’s the emergency?”
“It’s coming at me from all directions. Our leading lady decided to drink some Coke spiked with vodka without a straw. The latex is lifting around her mouth,” Seth said, referring to the actress’s prosthetic mask. “She’s throwing a fit and holing up in her trailer, refusing to let anyone touch her up but me. Meantime, I’m running behind on the tattoos.”
Joy gave her uncle a humorous glance of sympathy. “There’s a cost to being the best.”
“Anybody on my staff could reglue Ellie, you know that. She’s just throwing her weight around by asking for me personally.”
“She must think you’re the best at a few things.”
“As if I’d ever give that little shrew the chance to find out,” Seth muttered with a disgusted, distracted air. Joy’s heart went out to him. This had to be one of the most hectic days of his life. “Anyway, that only leaves you to do the last tattoo—”
Seth paused when someone rapped and the door opened several inches. Her breath caught at what she saw.
Joy had helped Seth with projects for Hightower Special Effects on several occasions, and she’d assisted him with the illustrations for his initial proposal to win the contract from United Studios and director John Cabot for Maritime. As such, she was used to Seth’s fantastical art concept for the film. She wasn’t so immune, however, that she didn’t stare in wonder at the bizarrely beautiful head of the part man, part exotic sea creature that appeared around the edge of the door.
Her uncle was going to have an Academy Award sitting on his mantel for sure, she thought with a mixture of admiration and pride.
“Hey, Tommy told me I should stop by,” the walking piece of art said.
“Perfect timing,” Seth mumbled. He pointed at an illustration and some scribbled notes on the table. “Here’s what I need, Joy. You’re the only one I trust to do it. Go ahead and touch him up after you finish the tattoo. I won’t have time before the photo shoot. Wish me luck,” he said, glancing at both of them.
“Luck. You’ll need it,” the marine man said, his lips twitching subtly.
Seth snorted in agreement and rolled his kit behind him toward the door. The man, who was probably one of dozens of extras, stepped into the room so that Seth could pass. Joy noticed distractedly that her uncle and the aqua-colored male were nearly the same height—an oddity, as her uncle was usually the tallest man in the room. The two men nodded to each other before Seth shut the door behind him. Joy lifted her kit to the table and began to extract her paints, brushes and tattoo pens.
“Give me just a minute, and I’ll be right with you,” she said as she checked Seth’s notes and began to mix her colors.
He didn’t respond, but Joy was too focused on her preparation to mind. Actors and extras reacted to prosthetic and makeup application across a spectrum that ran from stoicism to whining to outright acting out. Hours and hours of sitting or standing motionless were often required while an artist created their magic. Maritime was a particular challenge. More than a hundred actors and extras required waterproof prosthetics and full body makeup in order to transform them into exotic sea creatures. Only dozens might be required to be in full makeup and costume during any given day of shooting, but Cabot had decided he wanted the entire cast in full regalia to give the grand scope of the movie for the photo shoot.
Joy was working up a sweat as she mixed her paints. She walked over to the unit air conditioner and turned it on high, the sound of the fan muting the cacophony of voices, music and movement just feet away from Seth’s office-studio.
“So you’re Seth’s niece?”
She paused in the action of removing her hoodie. His deep, resonant voice had taken her by surprise. She met his gaze for the first time and blinked. His eyes were a clear aquamarine. The elaborate foam latex prosthetic he wore on the upper half of his face and the sublime makeup application only added to their brilliance. His gaze struck her as startlingly alert. Compared to this man, other people’s stares were those of sleepwalkers.
She had the strangest sensation seeing his eyes peering through the elaborate costume he wore, as if she’d caught a glimpse of his soul through the beautiful artifice. Seth’s makeup, which subtly alluded to the emerging humanity of the sea creature, only added to the impression. The body paints included brilliant blues and greens, but flesh colors rippled and swirled over chiseled muscle and bone as well, creating a stunning living landscape. He was beyond beautiful, the subtle shadowing wrought by the air- and paintbrushes highlighting every ridge and smooth, hard plane of his long body.
His gaze flickered downward.
She became aware that she was holding both sides of her cotton hoodie wide open in preparation to remove it. Her breasts felt tight suddenly, straining against the fabric of her bra and the thin layer of her cotton tank top. Her nipples beaded, as if he’d reached out and brushed a finger over the sensitive flesh instead of just glancing at her.
She blushed, her reaction surprising her. Joy was an artist, and she’d long grown accustomed to partial and full nudity. She didn’t work full time in the movie industry, but she’d had sufficient experience, thanks to Seth. Gorgeous models and wannabe actors were the norm in Hollywood, as commonly found as a cornstalk on a July day in Indiana.
She whipped off her hoodie and tossed it on the table.
“Yes. I’m Joy.” She nodded to a spot in front of the table and reached for a chair, all brisk business.
“You’re the art teacher.”
She met his stare, and was once again snared.
“Seth told me,” he said quietly, shapely blue-and-white-tinted lips barely moving.
“We better get started or you’ll miss the shoot,” she murmured, discomfited for some reason by the idea of Seth sharing even the smallest details of her life with this stranger.
He walked to the spot she’d indicated. Joy sat and rolled her chair directly in front of him, her face situated in front of his abdomen. Without another word, she picked up a tattoo marker and began to outline the design in Seth’s illustration on her human canvas. Seth had altered the tattoo art somewhat from his original proposal. The brilliant starburst through rippling water was bolder and much more intricate than his original design. Joy liked the change.