Chapter One: Lights, Camera, Sweetheart?

Lights, Camera, Sweetheart?



Chapter One



Gun cocked and ready at her side, she waited at the end of the narrow alley. She could hear him, the heavy tread of motorcycle boots thudding up the sidewalk. Thick red hair, let loose from its ties, clouded around her face. She breathed deeply and evenly, afraid to make a sound lest she betray herself to him.



“Why don’t you come out where I can see you?” his voice called menacingly.



The woman closed her eyes and counted. One, two…



His footfall came closer toward her hiding place. She pulled the gun up to eye level and got ready to fire. Three…



He sprang around the edge of the building, one steely arm tightening like a vice around her chest. With the other he captured her hand, still clutched around the gun, and pulled her to him. His stubble-covered face brushed against her cool skin, his voice raspy as he spoke.



“Now, did you really think that was a smart move?” he said condescendingly.



The woman struck back, elbow careening straight into his stomach. But he didn’t lose his grasp on her as he swung around and their conflict heated him. His eyes bore into hers and he smirked. Freeing one hand, the woman reeled back and hit him as hard as she could with the flat of her palm.



“Cut!”



“Damn it kid, that really hurt,” said the man, releasing her and rubbing at his cheek.



“Good work, sweetheart. Just give me a moment to set back up, get a couple more angles, and we’ll wrap for the day.”



Chloe Morgan took a deep breath and, palm steel stinging from the slap, rubbed the heel of it against her jeans. The set was unusually packed, but she was well aware of the reason why. Everybody had gathered around the see the new girl at work.



All things considered, things had gone well for her first day on the job. All things except for her wickedly arrogant co-star, the one and only Barrett McCain. Chloe could still hardly believe that she was working with a soap opera legend her first day in, much less that said legend had turned out to be the exact opposite of everything she’d seen while growing up watching Harper’s Vale.



On air he was the lone ranger, the man with the past. As she had learned over the past week of introductions and rehearsals, Barrett was anything but that. Handsome, all right. As the old saying went, the camera didn‘t lie. But in just those few short days she had come to the conclusion that he was the most arrogant creature she had ever met.



“Chloe, come over here for a minute while we test the lighting.”



Shaking away her nerves, she got in position. Barrett watched her with cool blue eyes. “Next time don’t hit me so hard,” he said. A pink mark was spreading over his chin. “The makeup department would have a fit if something happened to this face.”



“I’ll try and remember that,” she said shortly.



He raised his eyebrows defiantly. “You know, it‘s Rebecca that hates me, no you. Why can‘t we be friends?”  He smiled again, languidly perusing her body with his eyes.



Chloe was tempted to slap him again. It didn’t take too many guesses to figure out what he meant by that. “Sorry,” she finally got out after a moment. “I’m a method actor.”



Barrett grinned. She thought he was about to say something else when the director called out for silence on the set. Barrett reached over, hand wrapping once again around Chloe’s chest. “You know, I could get used to being this close to you,” he said, so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. He smelled like peppermint.



“Action!”



Chloe whirled around and, without hesitation, sent her palm flying into Barrett’s cheek again. He took a step back, looking both surprised and bemused. Then, bringing the moment to a screeching halt…



“Cut! That’s a wrap!”



Hoots and applause broke out sporadically across the set. Chloe smiled. Her first day had officially come to a close and she hadn’t forgotten any lines, stumbled over her words, or done anything else to make her look like the complete and total amateur that in her heart and mind she really was. She stepped away from the set and saw a slim woman moving towards her, both hand reaching out for her.



“Chloe! You did wonderfully today.” Alexandra Winsor, producer and head writer, took her by the arm and led her to the craft table, where somebody had thoughtfully laid out a cake with the Harper’s Vale logo written on it in pink and red frosting.



“Do you usually treat newcomers this well?” said Chloe. Alexandra smiled. She was nearing her sixties but had reached the age with the kind of grace that Chloe could only hope to achieve.



“Sometimes. Not always,” she admitted. “But we have big plans for you, Chloe. Very big plans. Here, have a piece. I’m going to go see if you injured Barrett too badly. Those looked like a couple of very big wallops you gave him.”



Yeah, thought Chloe. Wallops. She’d have liked to give him a piece of her mind, too, but verbal threats generally weren’t acceptable first day on the job. Deserved or not.



Cutting herself a piece of cake, she looked around the wide room. And, for the one-thousandth time since she had first arrived on set that morning, allowed the nostalgia to creep in. She was twenty-five years old and, it sometimes seemed, she’d been watching the show for just that long.



Her mother had tuned in every day at one o’clock in the afternoon to watch the lives and passions of the fictional town’s finest, and Chloe herself had been captive to the show for the better part of her teenage years. The fact that the magic was still there for her, even seeing behind the curtains, was a blessing for her.



Well, mostly a blessing. If the fact that she was more than a little disappointed to find out that Michael O’Meara, who had been her first love and, until college, subject of her most passionate fantasies, was in reality the sleaze-bag she’d just had the pleasure of slapping…well, it only put a small damper on things.



It was more than made up for by the fact that Ruth Landon, a soap opera legend, was just five feet from Chloe and heading her way.



“So, you’re my new daughter,” said the woman with wry amusement. She extended her hand.



“I guess so, Mrs. Landon,” said Chloe.  Yes, she reminded herself. This was definitely worth it.



“Ruth, if you please,” she said warmly. . “It’s not every day I have a new child come riding into town. I understand the part was written just for you.”



Chloe nodded. Through hard work and determination and, she wasn’t hesitant to admit, a good bit of luck, she had happened to playing the right part at the right time. And that somehow she’d been blessed with looking a great deal like the Ruth Landon of the 1970s, right down to the wild mane of blonde hair and glowing green eyes.



Growing up, she had chalked it up to the hours her mother spent watching the show while pregnant with her.



“I have to admit, you really could be my secret daughter,” said Ruth after studying her. “Are you certain you weren’t stolen from me at birth?”



“I’m afraid not,” said Chloe with a smile. “I was born and raised in Kansas City.”



“Hmm. Well, seeing as I’d never set foot in Kansas…no offense, dear…then I guess it’s just fate.” Ruth went to the table and cut herself a piece of cake, gingerly licking frosting from her thumb. Chloe couldn’t help herself as she found herself glancing back over at Barrett, who was deep in conversation with the Producer at the far side of the room. “I’d watch out for that one, if  I were you,” she said.



“Hmm?” Realizing she’d been caught staring she turned hastily away. “Oh. Don’t worry. He’s not my type.” Liar, her mind called out at her. He was every bit her type, from his swarthy tan skin and shaggy black hair to the messy stubble. And those devastating blue eyes…



“Barrett McCain,” said Ruth, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “Is every woman’s type. If I were younger and unmarried I wouldn’t mind having him myself.” She took a dainty bite of cake and then, smiling, added, “Never mind that. If I weren’t married, and my husband standing right there, I’d have him for dinner.”



Chloe laughed. “Well, I can promise you Ruth, I’m here to work. Being here on Harper’s Vale…well, it’s like a dream come true for me.” Now a little more satisfied with herself, and having found her bearings again, she took a bite of her cake. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I have my eye set on staying here for as long as they’ll let me.”



“Now that’s the spirit,” said Ruth. “Why, look at me. I’ve been here forty years and they haven’t gotten rid of me yet. Except for 1987. They tried to kill me off, you know,” she said. “But I found a way back. The die-hards, the ones who were made for this, they always do.”







That advice, if it could be called advice, was ringing through Chloe’s head as she made her way back to the dressing room to change out of the tight knee-high boots and tank-top her character wore, trading them for a pair of comfortable sneakers and the first thing she’d bought after arriving in Los Angeles, a brightly colored T-shirt with the Hollywood sign blazing right across the center.



She washed her face in the bathroom, removing the stage make-up. And then, because she knew she’d never hear the end of it if she waited any longer, she pulled out her cell phone and called her mother.



It rang twice before picking up. “So how was it?” came the voice from the other end. Here, too, was something familiar and wonderful.



“It was great, mom. Everybody on set is amazing. I met Ruth Landon.”



There was a squeal on the other end. Chloe navigated her way out of the studio as she fielded questions on the other end, describing in detail the people she’d met, confirming or denying rumors where she saw fit, and flat-out refusing to give away plot details for upcoming episodes. She came out of the building and made her way around to the parking lot. Then froze, staring at the man standing next to her battered Malibu, before sighing. “Hey, mom? I’ll call you back later. Love you.”



She snapped the phone closed and glared at Barrett as she fumbled in her purse for her keys, striding past him as she jammed them into the door.



“Hey, great first day,” he said coolly.



“Yeah. Thanks,” she said.



“Listen, I don’t know what I did to get on your bad side…” he said. He reached out and put his hand on her arm.



Chloe sighed. She considered the wisdom of staying as opposed to jumping in the car and flooring it. Finally, steeling herself, she turned around. “I don’t have anything against you,” she said finally.



“Then why have you been acting like such a little brat?” He said.



She blinked at him for a moment. Maybe it was the LA heat, but she thought she heard a note of hurt in his voice. She reached up, brushing the hair from the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said. “It’s just been a hard week. Maybe I’ll like you better tomorrow.”



Or maybe not, she added, when he smirked again. “Well, I certainly hope so,” he said. She suddenly realized that his hand was still on her arm, his thumb sliding in a leisurely fashion up toward the edge of her sleeve. Reaching over, she pushed it down and off.



“Listen, Barrett. I’m not going to sleep with your or anything.”



There are some things that people regret the moment they’re said. Chloe groaned inwardly and wished for instant rewind as something lit up in Barrett’s eyes. He started laughing and leaned down. Close enough again, thought Chloe, to smell his breath. In less than an hours time. Peppermint, she thought again. He smelt like peppermint and expensive cologne.



He too had changed out of his character’s clothes and was dressed in a gray polo and jeans, with cowboy boots peeking out from under the frayed hem. His muscular chest was even more evident beneath the thin material, more so as he crossed his arms.



“So, you heard about the bet, did you?” he asked.



“The bet?” Chloe, who had been halfway through the motion of yanking open her car door, stopped.



“Ah. So you hadn’t heard about it. Just that sure I’d be after you?”



She stared at him rigidly. “What bet?” she said again.



Barrett just smiled at her. “Just a bit of friendly competition,” he said finally. “You see, not a leading lady has come through here I haven’t gotten into bed with me. The cast and crew have started a pool. And, Chloe…I’m not a man who likes to lose.”











He stared after her speeding car with a small amount of regret. That hadn’t at all been what he’d planning to say. And bringing up that stupid betting pool had been sheer idiocy on his part. Although it didn’t make him any less certain that he’d get her, one way or another. And even if there wasn’t the matter of his pride to contend with Barrett knew he wanted Chloe, and badly. There was no denying his attraction to the cool, caustic blonde.



And he could damn himself for being so rude. It was just that the smug and sexy act worked on most women. But then again, he found himself realizing, the new girl definitely wasn’t like most women he’d ever met.



When she’d walked into that first script read he’d been stricken by her. All pale skin and wild hair, with those wide green eyes. It was true that he’d bedded a lot of his co-stars. Not all of them, though, as he might have implied. And could he help it if he’d thought he was in love with each and ever one at the time?



The fact of the matter was that most of the girls he found himself falling for had big dreams, bigger than his own, leaving him with a love life as bitter and, often, as lonely as the character he played on television. And Barrett, while he enjoyed acting and was proud of what he’d managed to do on the silver screen, had no greater ambitions than to do just what he was doing.



The role on Harper’s Vale had been a blessing in disguise for a young musician looking to make it in the LA music scene. He’d auditioned for the six-week stint as Tony DiMarco in the hopes of a little face time and a paycheck big enough to get him through to the next paying gig. Instead, his band had broken up making barely a dent in the music world, and the six weeks had transformed into ten years.



He could never regret the last ten years, as different as they’d been from the life he’d planned.



Finding his car among the handful that remained in the wide lot, he stepped inside, letting the cool blast from the air conditioner wash over him. He could still feel the sting from Chloe’s hand across his cheek. And if that was acting, he thought mildly, he’d better tread carefully or run the risk of getting her mad for real. Well, even madder than he’d already gotten her.



His plans for her, he mused, were the same as they’d been from the first moment he laid eyes on her. He’d just have to play the game her way, for now.



Over the course of the rest of the week he managed to keep his distance, watching her on-set as she navigated her way through the waters of daytime television with an ease which both surprised and delighted him. If there was thing he couldn’t stand it was losing an attraction to a beautiful new co-star because she couldn’t act her way out of a paper back.



“Good work, sweetheart,” he would say in passing, getting nothing more than a cold glare for his efforts. Or, his casual, “Make sure you keep your chin up, doll, your face catches the light better,” would garner him a piercing go-to-hell look for his efforts.



Although he noticed, with a grin that made him certain she knew he’d noticed, that in their next scene together her chin was hitched up just a little higher. She was a professional.



“Hands off, for now.” Ruth Landon’s voice came down on him at the end of that first week. He paused, cup of coffee in hand, as he made his way down the hall toward next weeks script read-through. The screen matron was one of the few people, apart from his own mother, capable of making him feel abashed.  “I feel like I should protect my onscreen daughter from your unseemly advances.”



“Boy, you sure have a way of making a guy feel special,” he said, although something about her manner left him feeling properly chastised.



“I’ve been seeing the way you tease that girl,” she said with a gentle shake of her head.



“Mmm. So you’re telling me to leave her alone?” he asked.



“Certainly not,” said Ruth, smiling. “I’ve got my money down for two months from now. But I don’t want you pushing her into anything.”



And that, thought Barrett, more than anything else, was what made up his mind. He was definitely going to have to do something about his growing attraction to Chloe Morgan.