Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(4)

I laugh. I really don’t want to hear about his stirrings, masculine or otherwise. Josh is like my brother. Well, a brother I get along with.

I pat his arm. “Okay, let’s drop the subject. We’re on the clock now. Professional faces, please.”

He nods. “But just to be clear, I can tell you my pornographic fantasies when we get home, right?”

“If you must.”

I turn back to the windows to see Angel stumble in her heels. When Liam pulls her tight against him with a look of concern, the whole crowd “awwws” before getting back to their dedicated screaming.

“I love you, Liam!”

“Sign my arm!”

“Marry me! Pleeeeease!”

“Angel, you’re beautiful!”

They’re right about that. She really is beautiful. While I’m five-three and curvy, she’s tall, svelte, and elegant. My hair is blond and shoulder-length, hers is long, auburn, and looks like she should be appearing in a shampoo commercial. My eyes are basic blue, hers are a striking green. The only thing I have over her is my boobs. Hers may defy gravity, but mine are real.

I grudgingly admit I understand what Liam sees in her. She’s far more in his league than I ever was. Their children will be so genetically blessed they’ll probably develop superpowers.

I watch as Liam and Angel continue to sign autographs and pose for pictures. Every action is accompanied by frenzied squeals. I wonder what it must be like to star in something as huge as Rageheart and have millions of fans all over the world. Liam’s portrayal of the passionate, mostly shirtless demon Zan, who leads a slave uprising and falls in love with the seraph king’s daughter, has ignited countless pairs of panties. I think it’s safe to say he’s the biggest movie star in the world right now.

“Dammit,” Josh says. “Does the chiseled Adonis really have to taint my wife-to-be’s lips like that? It’s gross.”

He’s referring to Liam’s planting of a soft kiss on Angel’s mouth as she leans against him. The bunch of paparazzi that were already snapping up a storm go into a frenzy. Nothing sells more magazines or gets more Web site clicks than pictures of Liam and Angel demonstrating their Epic Love. No doubt an explosion of dollar signs just flashed before the paps’ eyes.

Marco comes to my other side and peers down. “That ‘grossness,’ dear Joshua, is what we’re banking on. Liam and Angel’s rabid fan base will make sure our production is the hottest ticket on Broadway for months. Mark my words.”

Josh nods. “Unless, of course, she recognizes her overwhelming attraction to me during rehearsals, and breaks up with him before we open.”

Marco looks like a vampire who’s been burnt by holy water. “Don’t even joke about that. Any rift between these two would mean disaster for our sales, which is why we must handle both of them with kid gloves. Remember, they’re used to everyone kissing their backsides, so pucker up, kids.”

I sigh. I remember a night when I kissed Liam’s backside. And his front side. And all the parts in between. The memories are so vivid, it’s as if it happened yesterday.

I seriously consider if it’s too late to resign.

Marco puts his arms around me. “Can you feel it, Elissa?”

Yes. Nausea. Anxiety. An overwhelming urge to rush out and buy a one-way ticket to Nepal.

I give him a wan smile. “Oh, I feel it.”

“Theatrical greatness, dear girl. We’re about to create it. Thank you for being my right-hand woman. I couldn’t do this without you.”

So, that’s a no to Nepal, I guess.

I give him a squeeze and then go back to the production desk. My section is impeccably laid out. Script. Pencils. A rainbow of high-lighter pens.

I’m ready.

I’m ready.

I’m ready.

I put my hands on my hips and sigh.

Nope. Not buying it. Screw you, positive thinking. Of all the days to let me down.

When I hear chatter in the hallway, I tense up. Liam’s deep voice carries through the walls and vibrates into my body.

“Lissa?” I turn to find Josh looking at me with concern. “You know that not breathing is bad for your health, right? Please chill.”

I blow out a breath and nod. “Sure.” I roll my neck and it cracks. “I’m good. Bring it on.”

“ ‘Atta girl.”

As our tiny tall-haired publicist, Mary, sweeps into the room with the stars, I half hide myself behind Josh. Subjecting only part of my body to the full force of Liam’s presence seems like the sensible thing to do.

“And this is our production team,” Mary says. “Of course, you know our director, Marco. I believe he’s spoken to you on the phone.”

Marco smiles and shakes their hands. “Delighted to meet you both in person. Welcome.”

Mary points to the quivering black girl by the windows. “Over there is our production intern, Denise.” Denise melts into the floorboards when Liam smiles at her. I think her crush on him rivals my own.

“And here’s our choreographer, Martin.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Martin says, barely sparing Angel a glance before holding on to Liam’s hand for several seconds too long for it to be anything but creepy.

“And last but not least, our illustrious stage management team, Joshua Kane and—”