Tough Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous, #2)(27)

I’ve never seen her come out to watch filming before. And wouldn’t you know that today, of all days, she’d show up. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but I’m having enough trouble keeping my head in the game as it is. She certainly isn’t going to help that.

“Rogan?” Rayelle, the redhead, leans left, putting her face in my line of sight, making it a nonissue for me to look away from Katie.

I grit my teeth again, something I’ve done all day, something that has given me one helluva headache, and I nod once more.

“Take fourteen. Action!”

The instant Tony, the director, says ‘action,’ the words just leave me. Again. My eyes flicker to Katie. On her face is a blank mask. She’s neither excited nor blasé, neither interested nor disinterested. She’s simply here. Watching. I’m beginning to know her well enough to guess that something is going on just beneath the surface, though. It didn’t take me long to figure out that her still waters run very deep.

“Cut!” Tony barks again. “Rogan, what the hell? Is your head in your ass or what?”

I curl my fingers into fists. This isn’t like me. I never bring less than my A-game to anything that I do. I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy.

“Sorry, Tony. I don’t . . . I don’t know what’s wrong, man.” The aggravated disappointment on his face makes me feel like shit. He’s been singing my praises since the first day I got here and I hate to let him down.

He gets out of his chair and walks over to me, reaching up to drape his arm around my shoulder. It’s an awkward position for him considering the height disparity, but he does it anyway so that he can lead me off set. “Are you running your lines? Putting in the time?”

“I read over my lines every night. I just . . .” I feel like punching something. I need some time in the ring to get rid of a little aggression.

“Maybe get Rayelle to help you out a couple times a week.” His wink says he thinks she can help me with more than just my lines. I’m sure she’d be more than willing, but she can’t fix what ails me. Only one woman can, and I’ve hit a brick wall with her.

Then it occurs to me. “I think I might know just the person to, uh, help me out.”

“Fine, fine. I don’t give a damn who it is, just make it work.”

“I’ll be right as rain by Monday,” I pledge, my mind already on the weekend and how I can convince Katie to spend it with me.

Tony grins and slaps me on the back. “That’s my boy!”

With that, he turns back to the set. “Get Groenig in here. We’ll shoot the mansion scene this afternoon instead.”

My enthusiasm spikes to a more normal level and I swivel my head back to where Katie was standing. The spot is empty now.

Why come if you were planning to leave so soon?

I don’t understand her at all, which is probably part of the appeal. She’s such a contradictory female I don’t know what to make of her. She doesn’t react to me like most women do.

I think back to the way she looked at me when she saw my scars. They affected her. Why, I don’t know. She didn’t appear to be disgusted, so I don’t think it was that. Regardless, I’m more determined than ever to get inside that beautiful head of hers.

I’m smart enough to know she damn sure ain’t gonna spill her guts for me. But if she has come to know me at all, then she ought to know that I don’t give up. I’m no quitter. I will know her. And I’ll know her well.

Ignoring all the chaos surrounding me, I tug my shirt over my head and make my way to Katie’s brightly lit cosmetic cove. I stop just inside the doorway, catching and holding my breath so that she won’t hear me. Her back is to me, her rich hair spilling between her shoulder blades like a coppery waterfall. She’s doing something with her hands, something I can’t see, but she’s also humming. She’s swaying the tiniest bit to the music inside her head and, at this moment, she looks more peaceful than I’ve seen her so far.

The scene makes me ache to touch her, but the song she’s humming makes me smile through the discomfort. “Ten Feet Tall.” It’s funny because something about her, something about the way she tries not to care but can’t seem to help herself, makes me feel that way—ten feet tall. Like I’m somehow an exception to her rules, whether she wants me to be or not. I don’t think anyone has gotten close to her in a long time.

Maybe until me.

Suddenly, she turns to throw something at the trashcan. I don’t have time to warn her of my presence and she gasps in alarm, her big sapphire eyes getting bigger as she stumbles backward. The makeup chair clips her behind the knees and I see her start to go down. Her arms shoot out and her mouth rounds into an O, as in oh shit! I rush forward, reaching out to wind my fingers around her thin wrists and pull her toward me. The shift in momentum causes her to overcorrect and she falls against my chest.

“Oh!” she chirps, stunned. “Thank you. You startled me.”

“You’re welcome, and I didn’t mean to. I was enjoying the show.”

Color pours into her cheeks and she tucks her head. “How embarrassing.”

“Why?”

“Because. It just is. I mean . . . I don’t know.”

“I love that song, by the way.”

“You knew what I was humming?” She seems surprised.