Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(71)

“Some of it’s all right. I like the action stuff.” His mouth twisted in disgust. “But I sure will be glad when all this love scene business is over. Do you know they actually expected me to take off my pants today?”

She smiled through her agitation. “I was there, remember? And by the time you were finished with all your chin rubbing and head shaking and ‘aw shucks’ing, I don’t think Willow or the director or anybody else had the slightest idea what you were saying.”

“I got to keep my pants on, didn’t I?”

“Poor Natalie didn’t.”

“Gettin’ naked is a woman’s lot in life. The sooner you accept that, the happier you’re gonna be.” He patted her bare knee, sending a shiver of desire through her as he let his hand linger there a moment longer than necessary.

It took enormous self-control not to respond to his baiting. Not only was she too edgy to match wits, but she was feeling remarkably tolerant toward him, despite his sensual torment. She’d been touched by his behavior toward Natalie the past two days as they’d filmed their love scene. His costar’s breasts had continued to leak, most of the time on him, until Natalie was so embarrassed, she’d been fighting tears. Bobby Tom had been a perfect gentleman, teasing her until she relaxed and making her feel as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time, as if a day wouldn’t be complete without it, as if he looked forward to being soaked with breast milk.

Sometimes his ability to hide his real feelings frightened her. No one should have that much self control. She certainly didn’t. Right now, just the thought of making love with him had turned her insides to mush.

He dabbed at her bare thigh with his napkin, although she hadn’t dropped anything there. His thumb brushed over the inner slope, and she caught her breath.

“Is something wrong?”

She gritted her teeth. “No—No, uh, nothing at all.” He was making her an emotional wreck with his innocent little touches, brushing her leg as he shifted position, grazing her breast with his arm as he reached for a piece of chicken, every moment of contact so brief it could have been accidental, but since Bobby Tom never did anything accidentally, he had to be playing one of his games. If only he’d bring up the subject of the night ahead so they could clear the air between them and she could stop feeling so apprehensive. She’d bring it up herself, except she didn’t have the foggiest notion how to go about it.

She dusted some biscuit crumbs off the lap of her crisp white shorts to give herself something to do with her hands. He was the one who had told her to wear shorts tonight, and although she considered them a bit too casual, she’d remembered his flattering comments about her legs and acquiesced. She’d also chosen a cropped turquoise cotton poor boy sweater that bared her lower back every time she leaned forward, a fact that she didn’t think had escaped his attention.

“I wish you’d start watching the dailies,” she said, trying to take her mind off her overheated body. “Maybe it would make you more enthusiastic about a movie career. Everybody knew you’d be photogenic, but I don’t think anybody expected you to be as good as you are.”

Several times she’d had the opportunity to sit in while Willow, the director, and various other members of Blood Moon’s production staff gathered to watch the film they had shot the previous day. Bobby Tom had a much quieter presence on screen than he did off, underplaying everything so that he didn’t seem to be acting at all. It was a solid, restrained performance that managed to overcome some of the predictability of the script.

Instead of being flattered by her praise, he frowned. “Of course I’m good. You think I would have taken on something like this if I thought I’d mess it up?”

She gazed at him suspiciously. “From the beginning, you’ve been surprisingly confident for someone who says he’s never acted before.” Her eyes narrowed as a sudden thought struck her. “I don’t know why I haven’t already figured this out. You’re pulling another one of your scams, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Acting lessons, that’s what.”

“Acting lessons?”

“You heard me. You’ve taken lessons, haven’t you?”

He looked sulky. “I might have talked to one of my golf buddies a few times while we were playing, but that’s it. A couple of conversations walking down the fairways. One or two tips between putts. That’s all.”

He hadn’t allayed her suspicions a bit, and she gave him her steeliest glare. “Which golf buddy would that happen to be?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Bobby Tom…”

“It might have been Clint Eastwood.”

“Clint Eastwood! You’ve been taking acting lessons from Clint Eastwood!” She rolled her eyes.

“That doesn’t mean I’m serious about this business.” He pulled his hat an inch lower on his forehead. “Making love with ladies I’m not attracted to isn’t my idea of how I want to spend the rest of my life.”

“I like Natalie.”

“She’s okay, I guess. But she’s not my kind of woman.”

“Maybe that’s because she’s a woman, not a girl.”