Page 34 of Secrets in the Deep

“Bye, Nora.”

“You tell me immediately after the next kiss!”

“There won’t be a next kiss.”

Nora laughed. “When Emi’s involved, all cards are off the table.”

8

The rough surface of the log bit into the backs of Emily’s legs, her dress reaching mid-thigh as she looked into Preston’s eyes. Eyes that, for a flicker of a second, dropped to her lips before sliding back up.

A small hint of what he wanted. Or of what might come.

Gently, she rubbed her palms over her bare arms, trying to chase away the chill.

“Cold?” he asked, voice smooth.

“I’m okay.”

Without a word, he pulled off his black jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Warmth slid over her skin, easing the bite of the cold. “Thank you.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

“Anything?”

One side of his mouth lifted, showing a perfect dimple. “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you like how I look in this dress.”

He chuckled, the deep kind that could break hearts. “You think that’s all I like about you? The way you look?” He slippeda piece of hair behind her ear, his finger strategically grazing her cheek. “I see so far past that.”

“Who do you see?”

“A girl who tries to hide her heart behind a smile.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “A woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.” A kiss to her other cheek. “I see all of you, even the parts you try to hide.”

He lifted his head, only a fraction, but his lips were right there, his warm, minty breath mingling with hers. Slowly, so slowly he didn’t look like he was moving, he began to dip his head.

She didn’t move, expecting the kiss. The familiar feel of his lips. They were just about to touch hers when?—

“Cut!”

Preston cursed and leaned back, his soft, romantic expression replaced with a scowl. “Why, Roscoe?Why?You’ve cut this scene a million times! It’s going to be morning soon.”

“Because I don’t feel thelove.” Roscoe shook his hands in the air like he wanted to strangle someone.

If Emily wasn’t drop-to-the-floor level exhausted, she might actually laugh at the man’s dramatics.

Preston shot to his feet and stormed over to the director. As the two men argued for what had to be the twentieth time that night, Emily yawned.

Her mouth was still wide open, when she looked his way.

Ryan. He’d been standing beside that lodgepole pine tree the entire night. Why? Why this scene? As it was, he looked so tense it was possible he might actually break into pieces.

She dragged her gaze away. Funnily enough, she was too tired to care. Night shoots were the bane of her existence. They sucked. Big, kick-in-the-teeth-while-dreaming-about-bed kind of suck.

It was cold. She was tired. And no one knew when Roscoe would be happy.