Page 34 of Love: Take Two

"Only to setyourclient straight," she snaps. I press my lips together to contain a retort. I'm pretty sure this bickering is exactly what weshouldn'tdo if we want to get back on Rory's good side.

Taryn looks between us, his smirk transforming into a knowing grin. What exactly he thinks he knows, I have no idea.

"I can see the two of you will be a delight to work with," he mutters, his words dripping with sarcasm. He gestures to our headsets once more.

"Stay on channel six to hear what the actors are saying. Switch to channel three for me."

With those parting words, he leaves us sitting in the nearly deserted viewing area. Awa whirls on me.

"This is all your fault, by the way."

"My fault?" I shoot back. "How in the world could this be my fault when this is only like my third time on set?"

"Because every single time you're here, something goes wrong!" she shouts. The Second Assistant Camera sends us a worried glance as he scurries past us, and Awa curses under her breath.

"Before you showed up, the only issue was Yong-rae," she hisses. "And we both know he was one missed cue from being canned. Maybe his replacement would've been easier to work with."

"Fuck you," I grit out. "He got off to a rough start, but Tabitha's the one fucking up now."

I see Awa's nostrils flare, and I know she's holding back another scathing remark. Instead of being upset, I'm struck with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. This fire, this back and forth, is exactly what made us such great partners at USC. She'd make her argument, I'd poke holes in it, and then we'd trade places. She was so smart, so capable. I see not much has changed.

"I talked to Tabitha. She knows she crossed the line. Even though Yong-rae is barely out of community theater," she mocks sweetly, "she should let him dig his own holes. And when he messes up again, Tabitha will make a great movie with whoever the studio brings in."

I can't resist flipping her off, and she just smiles.

"Honey, he's not going to mess this up. Keep underestimating my client. That's when he does his best work."

"We'll see," she says, rolling her eyes, then turning to face the monitors.

I chuckle to myself. She always did need to have the last word. That's yet another way she reminds me of the girl I used to know, though the similarities stop there.

From the corner of my eye, I notice she's replaced her off-the-rack suits with designer versions. Instead of the dull grays and browns she used to favor, her current ensemble is a rich forest green. The skirt stops well above her knees, hugs the thick, lightly dimpled flesh of her thighs, and gives a mouthwatering view of her luscious ass. It's plumper than I remember, but just as alluring.

If I venture up, I'm met with a single-button blazer that shows off more cleavage than the conservative outfits she wore in college. Her neck always made me think of Nefertiti, only now it's adorned with an elegant gold necklace that brings out the deep ebony of her skin. And the naughty librarian glasses are gone, no longer blocking the view of her smooth, high cheekbones and umber eyes.

Further down, silky brown skin tapers to slender ankles and heels so severe they could kill a man. Or bring a man to his knees.

I clear my throat and settle my gaze on the monitor, ignoring her just as much as she's ignoring me.

I ignore the memory of when I last touched her. Of when I last felt her shudder against me in ecstasy. And most of all when she last smiled at me…and then I walked away.

That was forever ago. Now, instead of friendly debate, there's only venom between us.No matter.I won't let a bodybuilt for sin steer me off course. This time, when it comes to Awa Faye, I'll keep my dick in my pants and my eyes on the prize. Because one wrong step could bring my world crashing down around me.

Chapter nineteen

Noah

Myothersoon-to-be sister-in-law—the one marrying my brother, not the one responsible for the headache currently pulsing behind my eyes—saunters through the open door of my office. Camila plops down in one of the leather chairs of my seating area without waiting for so much as a greeting, and from my periphery, I can see her fiddling with the perpetual motion toys I have strewn about, then flipping through the magazines on the coffee table. When I still don't look up from my overfilled inbox, she pops her gum, one of my few pet peeves.

"How may I help you, Camila?" I say with an indulgent grin.

Given Luxe's open-door policy, I shouldn't be surprised to have a visitor. I actually wanted a distraction from the clusterfuck that Pinnacle's latest movie is turning into, but asthe sister of the producer, Camila is definitely not that. She feels more like a double-agent.

"So how's it going on the set of 'Forced Proximity'?" she asks in her too-cheerful singsong voice. I wince and close out my email window.

"You actually like that name?"

She shrugs.