Page 39 of Prelude of Love
Chance’s smile turned sultry as he leaned across the table. “How can I ever thank you for your sage advice?”
“I can think of a few ways, but most of them would get us in trouble with the health department.”
“Early!” He laughed, adjusting his glasses. “And here I thought you were the nice one.”
“Duke will tell you all about howniceI can be. When I’m not pushing all his buttons, of course.”
His voice dropped an octave, sending a delicious shiver through me. “I’d love to find out firsthand.”
“Careful what you wish for. I might take you up on that offer.”
After he finished eating, he checked his phone and groaned. “Shit, I need to head to Hurly-burly for rehearsal.” Standing up, he straightened his sweater before picking up his coffee cup. “Thanks again for the pep talk. And the muffin.”
“Break a leg, hon. But not literally. Duke would go ballistic if his pretty new toy broke before he could play with it.”
The return of Chance’s confident grin was likeseeing the sun break through the clouds after a storm. I watched him leave, pride and concern warring in my chest.
Brinley swooned as I returned behind the counter. “Can you blame me for staring? He’s even more gorgeous up close!”
“Down, girl.” Wolfie chuckled. “Though I have to say, boss, that was some serious flirting going on. Good thing Duke wasn’t here to see it. He’d go full caveman.”
I grinned. “That’s half the reason I do it. Nothing gets Duke more fired up than a little competition.”
“And the other half?” Wolfie asked.
My grin turned wicked. “I wouldn’t mind if both of them got competitive one-upping each other.”
Hopefully, I’d be making that dream a reality soon. Something told me Duke watching Chance struggle on set would trigger his protective instincts that demanded he take care of the younger man by involving him in our relationship.
I couldn’t wait.
Chapter Ten
CHANCE
I’d never felt sonervous in my life, not even the time I accidentally shouted, “Thank you, Milwaukee,” to a sold-out crowd in Minneapolis. Back then, I had charmed my way out of it, but something told me it’d be harder now.
Duke stood at the back of the room as a silent observer while the crew set up lights and cameras around Hurly-burly’s stage area. His steady presence should have been comforting, but it only added to my nerves. It was one thing to fuck up in front of the professionals. It was another thing to do it in front of the guy I desperately wanted to climb like a tree.
Tennyson gestured to the cinematographer, discussing angles and lighting with rapid-fire precision as they prepared to block the scene I was about to act out. “We need to capture the initial spark betweenthem. That first look needs to sizzle through the screen.”
My mouth went dry. No pressure there.
The door opened, and Rook Warrick strode in as if he owned the place. Unlike me in my casual jeans and sweater combo, he wore a fitted henley that showed off his action-star physique. His presence commanded attention without trying.
At least pretending to fall for him wouldn’t require much acting. The man was walking sex appeal with a dash of danger. But his confident ease only emphasized my amateur status.
Rook’s dark hair was artfully tousled, as if he’d stepped off a magazine cover rather than walked in off the street. He moved with the natural grace of someone who’d spent years doing his own stunts, with each step purposeful and controlled. A hint of his spicy cologne drifted my way, woodsy with citrus notes.
“Ready to run through the scene?” His deep voice held none of the gruffness I loved in Duke’s. Where Duke’s presence filled a room with an untamed wildness that made me want to spread my legs for him, Rook’s magnetism was more polished and made me want to do a good job for him.
I shifted my weight, hyperaware of my inexperience next to his seasoned professionalism. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
His blue eyes assessed me with the practiced eyeof someone who’d been in the industry for years. “You’ve got good instincts,” he said, rolling up his sleeves to reveal forearms corded with muscle. “Remember to trust them, and you’ll be fine.”
Even his reassurance carried the weight of expertise. Where Duke’s gruff encouragement made me feel ten feet tall, Rook’s professional validation somehow highlighted the gap between us. Both men were built like brick houses, but Duke wore his strength like a second skin, natural and unpretentious. Rook’s physique was a carefully crafted tool of his trade, every muscle defined for maximum camera appeal.
“Thanks,” I managed, trying not to fidget under Rook’s steady gaze. “I promise not to tank your big romantic-comedy debut.”
