Luke kept his hand on Julia’s back as they made their way into the dining room. At first, the gesture had been merely polite, done more out of habit than anything else. But as they maneuvered around tables, he became aware of the intimacy of their contact. Acutely aware. His fingers splayed against the base of her spine, his brain whirring, processing the sensory overload. The heat of her skin, the sway of her hips, the soft fabric of her dress, and beneath that—the unmistakable outline of her panties.
In an instant, Luke was picturing her in that one item of clothing and nothing else. He flattened his palm against her back, fighting the urge to trace the delicate edge lower. He was saved from himself when she shifted away from him, moving toward a table where her friend stood waving.
The blond one. The reviewer. The reason he was supposed to be participating in this charade in the first place. Luke sucked in a breath and hurried to catch up. He needed to remember what was on the line. Keep his eyes on the prize and get his head out from under Julia’s dress and into the game. Fantasizing about panties … What the hell was wrong with him?
He held out a chair for Julia before taking the seat next to her, nodding as more people joined their table. Two men in their early thirties, who had clearly come together, and Julia’s other friend, the dark-haired one he’d met on the beach, accompanied by a guy in a Green Bay Packers jersey. A football jersey. Luke scowled. And he wasn’t allowed to wear a classic video game shirt? The injustice.
The dude sat down and immediately reached for the breadbasket.
“Where’s your name tag?” Packers jersey asked, offering the basket to Luke.
“Oh.” Luke glanced down and feigned surprise. “It must have fallen off.”
Jersey guy pointed to his own name tag. “Burt. But my real name is Curt, which rhymes with Burt, so you can call me either one.”
“Good to know.” Luke laughed. “Um, you can call me Lance.” It took him a second to recall his character name. After spending most of the last hour chatting with Julia, the information had gotten lost behind more important details. Such as the fact that she liked his real name. He smiled to himself, mouth curving in a goofy grin.
“How about you?” Curt asked the couple across the table, as he slathered butter on a roll. “What’re your names?”
“I’m Patrick. And this is my husband, David.”
“That’s me.” David reached for Patrick’s hand and squeezed. “The names are obviously fake, but the relationship is real.” He grinned. “And no, we’re not here to role-play as the sassy gay best friend.”
“Don’t get us wrong,” Patrick said. “We love a good rom-com trope.”
“But that tired trend belongs in the past,” David declared, reaching for his glass of wine. “Along with mullets and shoulder pads.”
“I most certainly agree,” the blond said, in that exaggerated accent. “I’m Bridget, by the way.” She wiggled her fingers in a cheeky wave. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Patrick bowed politely. “The accent is a nice touch,” he added, maintaining an impressively straight face.
“And who’s the devilishly handsome fellow glued to your side?” David asked, resting his chin on his fist.
“The name’s Zach,” he said, easing back and slinging a casual arm over the top of Bridget’s chair.
Luke noted the way she immediately leaned in to his touch. The reviewer certainly seemed to be enjoying her interaction with the actor. Annoying as it was, he shouldn’t be surprised Zach was the one she’d gravitated to.
Zachary Brennan was a living, breathing, walking checklist of rom-com hero attributes. Bright blue eyes? Check. Charming grin? Check. Perfectly groomed scruff? Check. Luke honestly wasn’t sure how the dude managed that last one. Maybe he got up to shave in the middle of the night so the five o’clock shadow would start to appear around noon.
It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. An actor with a capital A, the man was dedicated to his craft. Luke could respect that, even if he didn’t like the guy. And he really, really didn’t like the guy.
The feeling was mutual. From the first time they’d met, during the job interview for Notting Hill, Luke and Zach had butted heads, barely tolerating each other’s presence. Zach wasn’t great about following instructions, and more than once during the weeks of prep leading up to this week’s opening, Luke had considered firing him.
He might have, too, if he wasn’t worried the other actors would quit in protest. Luke had hired most of them based on Zach’s personal recommendation, and he was well aware they looked up to Brennan as their unofficial leader—a fact that Zach exploited to his advantage, flouting Luke’s authority at every opportunity.
Luke even took the man’s clothing choices as a personal affront. Zach was wearing a tight, black V-neck T-shirt—and yes, he had the muscles to fill it out. Jay had called that one.
Whatever. Luke tugged at the sleeves of his too-short dress shirt, rolled just below his elbows. Julia had commented on the shirt. Said she liked it. She’d even mentioned how it matched his eyes. Pleasure rippled through him, and he had to admit, Jay might be onto something with the dressing up thing.
“What are some of your favorite rom-coms?” Julia asked, pulling his attention back to the conversation.
Luke hesitated, surprised to realize he didn’t have a ready answer. Did he have a favorite? He’d never really thought about it. Over the years, he’d watched a metric ton of romantic comedies with Penelope. Many of them multiple times. He watched them because they made Pen happy. He liked the movies well enough, sure, but he didn’t love them like Pen did. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can pick one.”
“Really?” She quirked a dubious brow. “I would have thought anyone participating in this game must have at least one favorite.”
“Not necessarily,” Curt said, shaking his head and butting into the conversation.
Julia shifted her gaze. “Why are you here, then?”
“A wedding.”
“What?” She squinted at him in disbelief. “Is that your cover story, or backstory or whatever?”
“Nah, I can’t remember what that sheet they gave me said. My buddy is getting married here this weekend. For real. On Sunday.” Curt gestured with his butter knife toward another table. “That’s him over there with his finacée. This whole thing was her idea. Thought it would be romantic to act out some movie shit. Invited the whole group of us, all the bridesmaids and groomsmen, to get here a week early.”
“The entire wedding party?” Julia asked.
“Except the maid of honor.” Curt brushed bread crumbs from his jersey. “She’s the bride’s sister and is kind of a pain in the ass.”
Luke bit back a laugh. This guy was a character and they weren’t even paying him.
“Well, now that we know why Curt is here, anybody else care to share why they chose to come here this week?” Julia wondered.
Luke spared a glance across the table again. Currently, Zach was nuzzling the blond woman’s neck. And she didn’t seem to mind at all. He supposed he should be glad to see her enjoying herself, but he thought the reviewer would be eager to gather this kind of information, learn why people chose to participate in this game, what they were hoping to get out of the experience and all that. At the moment, she seemed interested in only one experience. Luke cleared his throat.
Zach lifted his head and met Luke’s eyes. There was a challenge in Mr. Rom-Com Hero’s face. A What are you gonna do about it, boss? look.
And what could he do? Luke was supposed to be just another player in the game. He’d already come close to screwing things up a few times tonight by being too aware of specific details, like who Julia’s friends were. Luckily, Julia had accepted his excuses, but he needed to be more careful. Right now, best to take a step back. He’d deal with Zach’s behavior later.
While he’d been distracted, the subject of live action role-playing had come up. Luke caught the thread of the discussion as Patrick and David were explaining how Notting Hill was the latest of many role-playing adventures they’d done.
“Are you both professional LARPers?” Carrie, the dark-haired girl, asked.
“I wouldn’t say we’re professional.” Patrick shook his head. “Nobody is paying us to do this.”
David grinned. “At least not yet, anyway.”
“I didn’t know this kind of thing existed until a few weeks ago,” Julia admitted. “This is my first one.”
“Are you all first-timers?” Patrick asked, glancing around the table.
“Not me,” Carrie—what was her real name? Andie?—said. “I’ve done a few on the weekend, like at a campground or something. Nothing too elaborate.” She leaned forward. “How many games have you participated in?”
“Let’s see…” Patrick tapped his fingers on the table. “There was the manor estate in Poland, that castle in Romania—”
“Really?” Bridget asked. “Romania?”
“Yep.” David lowered his voice dramatically. “That one was vampire themed.”
“Cool.” Carrie’s eyes were glittering with excitement.
“It was,” Patrick agreed.
“It was scary as fuck is what it was.” David shivered. “I still have nightmares.”
“What else…” Patrick wrinkled his brow in thought. “Oh, the pirate one in Bermuda was fun.” He winked. “Lots of rum.”
“I can’t believe there are so many.” Julia shook her head, her face awestruck.
“What was your favorite?” Bridget asked.
“Ooh, good question.” David rubbed his jaw. “I’d say it was a tie between the court of King Henry VIII we did outside of London and the Camelot one. The costumes were incredible.”
“Not like this one, huh?” Julia added.
“I don’t mind the simplicity, actually.” David shrugged. “It’s much more comfortable getting to wear your own clothes. Easier to pack, too.”
“Is that so?” Patrick teased good-naturedly. “Then how do you explain the three suitcases you insisted on bringing?”
“What about you?” Julia turned to Patrick. “Which was your favorite?”
“My favorite was the first one we ever did together.” Patrick reached for David’s hand and squeezed. “Just a little group, about half a dozen of us or so.”
“What was the theme?” Luke asked, genuinely curious. He’d like to have a chance to talk with these two some more and pick their brains on a few things.
“Dragons,” Patrick said in a dramatic whisper.
“Ooh,” Andie breathed. “I’ve always wanted to do one that was based on Tolkien.”
“Oh, yeah?” Curt asked. “You mean like hobbits and elves and that kind of shit?”
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “That kind of shit.”
Curt must have realized he’d stepped in it, because he raised his hands, palms out, and said, “It’s totally cool if it is. I love me some Game of Thrones action.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, and not just because of all the T and A. Though I’m not complaining about that.”
“Of course not,” Andie said stiffly, sable eyes flaring as if she were about to roast her companion Mother of Dragons style.
“How are things going here?” Pen asked cheerfully, sidling up to their table in a whoosh of positive energy. Luke hid a grin behind his water glass. His sister had perfect timing. He’d noted how she’d been making her way around the room, stopping to chat at each table, and he was impressed.
As game master, it wasn’t something he would have thought to do. He considered his role as more like an overseer. “God looking down on his minions,” was how Pen had once snarkily phrased it.
But watching his sister now, Luke realized the advantage in taking time to meet the players in smaller groups. It allowed her a chance to connect with them as individuals and evaluate how the game was progressing in real time. As Penelope engaged the table in a few minutes of friendly chatter, Luke was impressed again. She was gregarious and professional and seemed to put everyone at ease.
He knew Pen accused him of still seeing her as a helpless kid, and maybe she had a point. Over the past year, while planning this project together, his sister had often reminded him of the degree she’d earned. Whenever they’d gotten into an argument over a detail, she’d trot out her credentials, listing all the ways she was qualified to have an opinion. In his usual big brother manner, Luke had listened but not heard.
He’d made her GM and had agreed to trust her to do the job on her own, but until he saw her in action tonight, he hadn’t pictured her actually taking control, let alone doing it in a manner that was so uniquely her. She was doing more than simply filling in for him as leader … She was leading. And if Luke had bothered to pay closer attention to his sister, he wouldn’t have been so surprised. The realization was a punch to the gut.
Luke had the sudden urge to jump out of his chair and hug her. He might have, too, if they weren’t supposed to be acting like they didn’t know each other. He forced his attention to the servers as they arrived with the meal.
Penelope reminded the group to look over their activity options for the week. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to make your selections this minute. Everyone starts tomorrow with the first big kickoff activity.”
“Breakfast?” the dark-haired girl asked, unrolling her silverware and placing her napkin on her lap.
“Breakfast first, of course,” Penelope agreed. “Followed by a walking tour of the hotel and grounds led by the resort owner herself. She is looking forward to showing off everything Notting Hill has to offer.”
“I saw you had paintball on the itinerary,” Carrie said, a feral gleam in her dark eyes.
“We most certainly do,” Penelope confirmed.
“Uh-oh,” Julia muttered under her breath.
Luke glanced at her and leaned closer. “What?” he whispered.
“Andie”—she tipped her chin toward her friend—“I mean Carrie, is rather, um, competitive.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” he asked, making a mental note that he’d correctly recalled her friend’s name was Andie.
“It is, as long as she wins.”
Luke chuckled.
“Oh, you laugh now. Just wait.”
“Not that I’m complaining,” Curt said, cutting into his chicken marsala, “but what’s paintball got to do with romantic stuff?”
“Paintball is a staple of many romantic comedies,” Penelope assured him.
“I never thought about it before, but that’s true,” the blond one, Bridget, whose real name he suspected was Kat, piped up.
Nice of her to join the conversation. Luke was being uncharitable, but knowing that she was here to judge everything he’d created, knowing that her opinion, and how she expressed that opinion on a very influential website, could have a significant impact on the success of this launch—not to mention his future—was gnawing at him.
“Oh, yeah?” Curt asked.
Luke was beginning to think that particular phrase made up ninety percent of this dude’s conversational skills. “Yeah,” he said, unable to stop himself.
“Like what?”
“Uh…” Luke regretted opening his mouth, and he felt his sister’s attention turn to him while he fumbled for an answer. “There’s the one with the guy who still lives with his parents.”
“Failure to Launch.” Julia supplied, saving him.
“Right!” Carrie/Andie laughed. “Sarah Jessica Parker kicked everybody’s ass in that.”
“And there’s my personal favorite,” Julia added, “10 Things I Hate About You.”
“Good one.” Bridget sighed wistfully. “Oh, Heath.”
“One of the greats, gone too soon,” Zach agreed solemnly, wrapping a comforting arm around her. She melted against him, her head resting on his shoulder.
Luke watched the exchange with annoyed curiosity. How had Romeo in skinny jeans established such an easy connection with her so quickly? The guy was good. He should be pleased. It made his job easier. He wanted to make sure the reviewer enjoyed her experience. Mission accomplished.
Still. Maybe it was just his natural pessimism, but Luke couldn’t shake the kernel of worry lodging in his gut.
Bridget had moved on from movies to naming rom-com novels that included paintball scenes.
“Well, then, it sounds like I’ll be seeing all of you at paintball for sure!” With an easy, polished smile—one that didn’t hold even the slightest hint that the two of them knew each other, let alone that they were siblings—Penelope nodded at Luke and said goodbye to the group before moving on to the next table.
“This Means War!” Andie exclaimed suddenly, pounding the table, rattling silverware.
Luke bent his head to Julia again. “You’re right, she is competitive.”
Julia giggled. “She’s talking about the movie.”
“Huh?”
“The rom-com with Chris Pine and Tom Hardy?”
“Uh, right.” If Penelope had still been at their table, she’d be gloating right now. Luke was notoriously bad at remembering titles.
“Tom Hardy,” Andie purred. “Now there’s some Mr. Big potential.”
“Excuse me?” Bridget huffed, accent wavering. “Are you dissing Chris Pine? You know he’s my number one Chris.”
“Oh, I know all about your Chris rating system,” Andie snorted.
“Rating system?” Patrick asked, eyebrows raised.
“It’s a little inside joke of ours.” Bridget smiled wickedly. “Pine.” She held up her index finger. “Hemsworth.” She held up her middle finger. “Evans.” She held up her ring finger.
“What about Pratt?” Zach wondered. “He’s a Chris too, right?”
“Barely.” David tsked.
“Sure.” Bridget held up her pinkie. “Pratt.”
Julia giggled.
“You can have all the Chrises you want.” Carrie shrugged smugly. “One Tom Hardy still beats your whole hand.”
Beside Luke, Julia squirmed, lips pinched with barely contained laughter.
He watched her, bemused. “Are they talking about what I think they’re talking about?”
“Possibly.” She gave him a coy smile, glancing sideways at him from beneath her lashes. “Depends on what you think they’re talking about.”
“I think,” he said, lowering his voice so only she could hear, “you have some very creative friends.”
A pretty pink blush rose in her cheeks, but she lifted her chin and met his gaze, eyes sparkling with excitement and a hint of wariness. “Is that a bad thing?” she whispered.
“No, I don’t think it’s bad.” He brushed his index finger over the top of hers and she shivered. “Do you?”
She swallowed and shook her head, watching his hand move over hers.
Her reaction made his breath hitch. A wave of boldness swept through him. He shifted their hands beneath the table, stroking his middle finger over hers and then repeating the movement with their ring fingers.
“Yay, dessert!” Andie announced gleefully, startling Luke into dropping Julia’s hand, shattering the moment. A server slipped between them and plunked down plates of pie and ice cream.
Luke blinked. His brain felt thick inside his skull, thoughts fuzzy as if he’d done a round of shots.
Lust. He was drunk on lust.
He glanced over at Julia. She also seemed disoriented. Maybe she’d felt it too.
Julia wiped a hand across her face and stared down at her plate. “Wait a minute,” she mumbled, picking up her fork and prodding the pastry crust. A smile dawned. “This is Sally’s pie.”
“Aw, you’re right.” Andie chuckled, pulling her plate closer. “That’s a clever touch.”
“Who’s Sally?” Curt wondered.
“From When Harry Met Sally,” Andie explained. “Sally orders an—”
The other two girls chimed in and together all three recited, “‘Apple pie, heated, with strawberry ice cream on the side.’”
Luke felt a burst of pride for his sister, recalling how Penelope had insisted that this should be the dessert at the first night’s meal. He knew she’d be delighted to hear how quickly the players had made the connection.
“Oh, yeah?” Curt poked at his plate.
Well, not all the players. Luke’s happy balloon deflated a little. One more, Oh, yeah and he might not be able to resist stuffing that Packer’s jersey in Curt’s pie hole.
Oblivious to the violence being contemplated against him, Curt continued to poke at his ice cream. “I was wondering why it was strawberry instead of vanilla. Who ever heard of serving apple pie with strawberry ice cream instead of vanilla? It’s weird.”
“That’s the point,” Andie gritted out.
If Curt didn’t watch it, Andie was going to be the one to do the jersey throat stuffing. Luke bet when he told his sister about the antics of these two, Penelope would declare it was an opposites-attract romance and only a matter of time before tension led to passion and they were falling in love.
He glanced at Julia, wondering what Pen would have to say about the two of them.
Not wanting to follow that train of thought too far, Luke focused on his pie. His sister wouldn’t have anything to say, because nothing was going to happen between him and Julia.
Nothing other than what had happened already.
Nothing other than what he wanted to happen.
Other than that, nothing at all.