Lights, Camera, Kiss Me: Chapter 4
Bit of Aussie Hospitality
❤️Mac❤️
"I had a really nice time with you tonight, Mac,” Dale says.
"Dinner was absolutely incredible. Thank you."
Tonight, I dined at Vue De Monde with Dale. Located on the fifty-fifth floor of the Rialto tower in Melbourne, Dale's choice of restaurant for our third date left me genuinely impressed. The food and wine surpassed anything I've tasted before, and the city's view was nothing short of breathtaking.
Dale proved to be the perfect dinner companion. He maintained an engaging conversation throughout the night, making it a point to ask about me. His presence is comforting – perhaps too comforting.
He's kissed me on two prior occasions, and those moments were... pleasant. Yet, they lacked the spark to set my heart racing.
Perhaps Dale needs another chance. After all, tonight’s menu boasted a mix of aphrodisiacs – oysters, champagne, and chocolate. A warmth spreads through me, influenced by the food and the champagne's bubbly charm. I hope, with every fiber of my being, that any ensuing passion will be directed solely towards him. I picture a life with the charming doctor, one where my relationship with Ryan resets to our old dynamics - before I ever voiced my feelings.
“Well,” I start, feigning a search for my keys in my handbag, silently urging Dale Morgan to make his move.
In an instant, he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. His arm wraps around my waist while his other hand cradles my head. Drawing me closer, I loop my arms around his neck, intent on immersing myself in the moment. Yet, as Dale deepens the kiss, introducing a gentle dance of tongues, my emotions remain static—devoid of the toe-curling passion or breath-stealing anticipation.
“Wow,” Dale murmurs as he breaks the connection.
Puzzled, I echo, “Wow?”
The kiss felt ordinary, devoid of any magic. A sinking feeling grips me. Are we not on the same page? Making matters worse is his connection to Jazz. How can I convey the lack of mutual chemistry? Jazz had envisioned a fairy tale for us. The undeniable fact remains: while Dale Morgan seems perfect on paper, there's no tangible spark between us.
No, the ‘spark’ seems to be reserved for a certain co-star who has been M.I.A for the past three weeks.
"That was bad, wasn't it?" Dale asks.
"Pardon?"
"I mean, there wasn't really anything there, was there?"
"When we kissed?" Am I hearing him right, or am I just being hopeful?
Dale nods, and relief washes over me. We are on the same page after all. That makes this so much less awkward than it could have been.
"No," I admit. "I'm sorry. There really wasn't."
"It was kind of like kissing my sister," Dale says.
"Oh, do you kiss her often?" I joke.
He grins. "Only on special occasions."
I laugh. "Jazz will be disappointed."
"She'll deal with it."
"She will."
"Perhaps we could go out as friends sometime," Dale offers.
"That would be nice." It will probably never happen, but it's a nicer sentiment than 'have a nice life. I'll probably never see you again.'
"Goodbye, Mac."
"Goodbye, Dale."
I open my apartment door, kick off my high heels, and drop my handbag onto the couch in the lounge room. My gaze automatically shifts to the tiny Christmas tree where the gift I've bought Ryan still sits unopened. I know he has been at his mother's over Christmas, but there have been several catch-ups at Jazz's since he returned, and he hasn't attended any of them.
Our castmates believe that Ryan has been too busy with models and international party girls to hang out with us, but I know better. I close my eyes, remembering my careless slip.
"Brad's not the one I'm likely to make the same mistake with."
Ryan had ignored me all night, then confronted me with that nonsense about Brad. He'd acted foolishly, but I’d been the bigger fool—hinting at the attraction I feel towards him. And then, recklessly, I danced with him, relishing his touch!
Now, Ryan is keeping his distance. He likely thinks he's doing right by me, but it stings that he's cut off all contact. No phone calls, no coffee invites, and he's barely acknowledged my messages, only wishing me seasonal greetings.
Things with Dale didn't pan out. Does that mean Ryan will keep avoiding me until I find someone new? We start work on Monday. We need to cooperate. I wish I could retract my words, but that's impossible. We have to navigate this. It shouldn't be so complicated; we're adults, not impulsive teenagers.
I grab my mobile phone, find his contact, and dial. Tomorrow is Sunday, and Jazz is hosting a barbecue. Ryan might not plan to attend, but he should. As I wait for him to pick up, the call diverts to voicemail. Glancing at the clock, I note it's past eleven. He's likely occupied. I quash the questions swirling in my head about his activities and focus on leaving a message.
"Hey, Ryan, it's Mac. Listen..."
I bolt out of bed when I hear banging on my door. A bleary-eyed look at the clock on the wall in the lounge room tells me that it's two in the morning. Who would be at my door at this time?
"Ryan."
He doesn't wait to be invited in.
"Is everything okay?" I ask as he walks past me.
"I got your message," he tells me, turning to face me. "I'm sorry, but I just don't think we should spend time together anymore, outside of work."
I feel as if I've just had the wind knocked out of me. His words are so blunt. "Oh."
"It's for the best."
Hurt sweeps through me. "I don't believe that. We're friends."
"Are we?"
"Yes. Of course we are."
"Be honest. You want to be more."
"No. I want us to be friends."
"But you can't ignore it, can you?"
Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks at the accusation that I'm too overcome by what I feel for him to push it aside.
"Us getting involved wouldn't be a good idea for you, Mac."
I know that already, don't I? I would be the one to come off second best if I allowed myself to pursue anything with him. I am the one with everything to lose. Should our executive producer find out that we've become involved and decide to fire one of us, I already know which one of us is more disposable. It isn't the seasoned actor standing in front of me. It would be me. And my career would be over for good this time.
"I know that. I can ignore it," I tell him.
As I speak the words, I can't help but doubt their sincerity. My gaze shifts from his warm hazel eyes to his sinfully tempting mouth and then to his chest. I know what lies beneath that shirt. Once upon a time, I studied and admired each sculpted muscle and every defining line daily. And night after night, I indulged my curiosity before bed, imagining his body on top of mine, bringing me pleasure that, at fifteen, I'd only been able to dream of. Now, at twenty-three, I have a much clearer understanding of what he can do to me.
He moves closer. "You're in denial," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear as his lips graze my jaw.
The subtle contact makes me shudder. My breath catches in my throat when he pulls away and looks down at my breasts, which strain against the thin material of my soft pink nightie. My nipples have pebbled, betraying his effect on me.
"You can't hide it anymore," he says.
"I'm trying," I reply, desperation evident in my voice.
I want to hide my feelings, but I can't. He places his finger under my chin and lifts my face, ensuring our eyes meet.
"I know you are," he tells me. "But here's the thing; when I see how much you want me, I can't hold back."
"Ryan…"
Before panic can set in, he brushes his lips over mine. The fleeting kiss sends a jolt of electricity through me. The energy from his touch permeates my entire being. I have never felt anything so intense. It seems as if every nerve ending in my body is alive and tingling with anticipation, making it difficult to stand. If a mere brush of his lips can elicit such a response, what pleasure could he bring if we went to bed together? I suddenly need to find out.
He watches me intently, his dark eyes filled with anticipation, waiting for my next move. My eyes never leave his as I reach for his shirt, ripping it open and sending buttons scattering.
"I don't want you to hold back," I declare before placing my palms on either side of his face and drawing his mouth back to mine.
I sit up in bed, my body covered in a thin sheen of sweat and my breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. I look for Ryan beside me, but he isn't there. It was a dream. I left him a message, telling him we can handle the tension between us, and then I promptly fell asleep and dreamed about tearing his shirt open and kissing him.
My body still feels hot from the memory of his lips on mine, and even though it hadn't been real—he hadn't actually kissed me—I find myself craving him. Desire and need continue to swirl uncomfortably within me, making me restless. Risking my career and my heart to be with him would be the most foolish decision I could make. I can't allow myself to forget that. I lay back down, close my eyes, and try to erase the image of me ripping his shirt off.
"Shall we fire up the barbecue?" Brad asks.
Five of us sit in Jazz's living room. Despite the message I left Ryan last night, he hasn't shown up today. Disappointment gnaws at me. I’ll see him tomorrow on set, but I really wanted to prove to him that we could spend time together without it being awkward. I long for our friendship to return to how it was before our dance at Jazz's—before I ruined everything by revealing my feelings. When my emotions ruled me, I made stupid mistakes.
"Moore's not coming?" Matt inquires.
"He's too busy partying with Winona and Kira," Brad informs him.
"You'd think he could take a day off from his…extracurricular activities to hang out with his friends," Jazz remarks, rolling her eyes. "We're back at work tomorrow. He's got to be exhausted."
"Yeah, keeping the international party twins busy," Brad chuckles.
I feel foolish as I listen to the conversation around me. While I’ve been dreaming about tearing his shirt off and kissing him, Ryan has been keeping himself occupied—with twins! For a moment, jealousy threatens to consume me. Believing he is as affected by the attraction between us as I am makes me feel like an idiot. Ryan Moore could have any woman—or women—he desires.
"Knock, knock," Ryan calls through the front door.
The sound of his voice makes my heart beat so fast that I feel dizzy. My temperature rises, and my palms feel clammy. God, I am losing it.
Get it together. You can do this.
Today has to go well. I have to convince him that we can spend time in each other's company without it being too strained.
I watch him walk into the lounge, take in his recently showered appearance, and it is as if someone has pressed the replay button on last night's dream. His eyes lock with mine as images of me ripping his shirt off flash before my eyes. This has to stop. He has his twins, and I want things to go back to the way they were. I have to suppress, deny, and forget the sexual desire coursing through me. And even if I can't, I am an actor. Pretending is what I do best.
✯Ryan✯
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Vanessa says.
"Threw up, more likely," Brad adds.
I listen to everyone crack their jokes. My castmates all think they’re comedians today.
I shake my head. "You guys are hilarious."
I knew before I arrived that I would have to endure some ribbing for disappearing the way I did. So, I laugh and smile as the guys clap me on the back. I kiss and hug Jazz and Vanessa, and when I get to Mac, I embrace her quickly and then let her go. It's too easy to remember how good it had felt to have her pressed against me as we danced together—how responsive she'd been.
Apparently, the time I've spent away from her has done nothing to diminish the attraction I feel towards her. She's dressed for the summer heat in her tiny cornflower blue tank top and her short denim skirt. I swear she has the longest legs I've ever seen. Just the sight of those sun-kissed legs is enough to send lust rocketing through me.
For so many months, I've been able to ignore the chemistry between us on and off the set. But it's as if the moment we stopped shooting the show, I couldn't hold onto that professional boundary the way I used to. Without work to focus on, my libido seems to be the part of me most in control around my co-star. And as much as I'd like to believe things will go back to the way they were when we walk back on set tomorrow, I doubt I'll be able to switch off the lustful responses Mac elicits from me.
"I'm just going to put these beers in the fridge," I say, making an excuse to get away and get my thoughts under control.
For the past few weeks, I've stayed away from her and hoped to God that things were working out between her and the doc. I've been trying to do my part to make sure we never cross the line from co-stars to lovers. However, the voicemail message I found from her this morning was a wake-up call. She'd done her best to cover it, but I could tell she was upset by the way I've been avoiding her. So, here I am. I just hope showing up today isn't a mistake.
"How are Kira and Winona?" Brad asks with a smirk when I return from the kitchen.
"Don't know. I haven't seen them for a few days."
Despite the fact that there have been pictures of me with the Reilly-Adams twins splashed across newspapers and magazines, I've only spent a couple of nights with the girls. They might have a certain reputation, but it isn't deserved. I'd gone to the opening of their father's hotel with them, but it hadn't ended in the big bang Brad expects in probably did.
"Sure, sure," Matt says.
"Our Romeo is showing the girls a bit of Aussie hospitality," Brad jokes.
I laugh off my friends' doubts. It doesn't matter whether they believe me or not. I have to have some excuse for not being around. I can't really tell them that I'm totally hot for Mac right now, so the "party-twins" are a good excuse. I look over at Mac, but she won't meet my gaze.
Does it bother her? Does it bother her to think about me with other women the way it bothers me to think about her with the doctor?
I have rarely been jealous and had never felt the need to be before, but something about Mac brings it out in me. I don't like the thought of her with anyone, and I certainly don't like thinking about her with Jazz's doctor friend. But I need it to work out between her and the doc. If I can't find a darn good reason to keep my hands off Mac while we're out of the studio, we're going to wind up in bed together.
"How are things with the doc?" I ask her.
Her smile seems forced. "Ah, not happening."
"Why not?" I ask. "I thought you said he was perfect."
"He was," Mac tells me.
"There was just no spark," Jasmine says, sounding forlorn. "No chemistry."
"There'll be another guy," I tell Mac.
She nods. "I know."
I hate the fact that Mac sounds so disappointed. I feel her disappointment, right along with a massive helping of dread. I've been counting on that relationship working out for her. It would have helped both of us feel safer when we start getting into the love scenes on set, but now there's no safety net. I don't want to screw up the friendship between us, and I don't want to mess her over the way Westlaker had, but I keep losing sight of those facts every time she makes my blood rush south.
"Hey."
Mac startles when I join her in the kitchen. She's washing the dishes while everyone else is crammed in front of the television watching the cricket. She had rejected all earlier offers of help, including mine.
She side-eyes me as I pick up a tea towel and begin drying dishes.
"Thanks," she says quietly.
"No worries."
We wash and dry without saying a word until she finally breaks the silence.
"I have your Christmas present at home," she says.
"Yeah? I have your Christmas present at home too, though I can probably just tell you what it is."
"Oh?"
"Two tickets to the ballet," I tell her.
A grin breaks out across her face as our eyes meet. She's always wanted to go, and I hadn't been able to resist buying her tickets.
"You're taking me to the ballet?" she asks.
"Ah, I thought you could go with one of the girls, or a date, or something."
Her smile slips for a moment. Great, I've disappointed her. I wanted to do something nice for her, but she's disappointed I'm not taking her. She doesn't understand it's not because I don't want to go with her, it's because I want to go with her a little too much.
She wipes her hands on the hand towel next to her and puts her arms around me, hugging me. "That's awesome. Thanks, Ryan."
For a moment, I hesitate, knowing hugging her is a risk. But it's one I have to take. I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer. When she pulls back to look at me, I know that's my cue to let her go. Instead, my eyes drop to her mouth. I can't tear them away as she runs her tongue over her bottom lip. There's no mistaking the invitation she's making. God, I want to take her up on it. I don't think I've ever wanted to kiss a woman as much as I want to kiss Mac right now, but if I do kiss her, we won't stop with a kiss. I know that instinctively. I won't be able to stop until I've buried myself deep inside her and reached my end.
How am I ever going to do this on set? How am I going to hold her, touch her, and kiss her in front of the cameras without revealing exactly how much I want her?
She's obviously as affected as me, and if she doesn't stop putting out the signals she's giving me now, we're definitely going to wind up in bed together. And for the sake of our friendship, I can't allow that to happen. I need to remind her of what's at stake. I'm going to have to tell her about our upcoming romantic storyline. She needs to know what's coming this season, and since we're back in the studio tomorrow, I should probably tell her today. Maybe then she'll stop looking at me as if she wants me to devour her.
Mac stands there waiting for me to close the distance between us, but I don't move in.
I take a deep breath. "There's something I have to tell you; something you need to know."