But while Carmen in Charge was based on a telenovela, the tone was different from the original show, La patrona Carmen, which had been more of a workplace drama between rival execs. Ashton considered the third episode’s storyline, which focused on Carmen’s continuing efforts to improve Victor’s reputation after the disastrous red-carpet appearance in the previous episode.
“Talk us through it,” Vera urged.
He was starting to dislike this process, but he complied. “Well, Carmen books Victor on a cooking competition show to raise money for charity.”
Vera turned to Jasmine. “Anything to add, regarding context?”
Jasmine answered readily, like a dutiful student. “It’s a good publicity move, but Carmen knows Victor is a terrible cook. He’s her ex-husband, after all. She’d know that about him.”
“Cooking, food, the closeness of a kitchen—it can create a very intimate environment,” Marquita added. “That’s what we’re going for with the scene—pushing Carmen and Victor closer together.”
“But Carmen doesn’t really cook either,” Jasmine jumped in, her tone rising with excitement. “She enlists her mother to teach Victor how to make the dish before he goes on the show.”
“So do you think it makes sense, within the context of the story, for Carmen and Victor to kiss in this episode?” Vera asked.
Jasmine pursed her lips and her gaze drifted up to the ceiling as she thought. Ashton found he was holding his breath as he waited for her to speak, curious about what she would say.
Then Jasmine’s gaze flicked to his. She caught him staring at her, but that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part? There was heat in her eyes. He felt it in the split second before she directed her attention back to Vera.
No wait, that wasn’t the worst part. The actual worst part was the answering flash of heat in his own body. The look in her eyes kick-started his system, sending a bolt of desire through him, making him harden. He shifted uncomfortably as Jasmine answered Vera.
“Carmen and Victor have a history,” Jasmine explained. “Yes, they’re divorced, and there’s pain and hurt there, but there’s still love and attraction too. They’re fire together, and like Marquita said, the heat and closeness of the kitchen . . . it sets them ablaze.”
Her gaze shot to Ashton again, then dropped to her hands on the table. Was he imagining things, or had Jasmine’s voice gone the slightest bit . . . breathy?
“The attraction part is easier for them to deal with,” she went on. “The other stuff . . . well, it’s messy. So they give in to the—oh god, this is a bad pun, but the heat of the moment.”
Marquita and Ilba laughed, and Vera grinned. Ashton was glad for the break in tension. Had Vera noticed the looks Jasmine was shooting him? He hoped she wouldn’t call them out on making eyes at each other like a couple of horny teenagers.
Vera looked to Ashton then. “So, it makes sense for them to kiss in that moment?”
Without meaning to, Ashton replied, “He still wants her. He never stopped.”
Silence fell, as the others nodded their agreement.
Jasmine watched him from the other side of the table. Her expression was intense and unreadable. He didn’t know what it meant. But he wanted to.
“It’s also the first time they’re alone together,” Marquita pointed out. “We’ve purposely built the tension between them over the first two episodes. By the time Carmen’s mother leaves them alone in the kitchen, they’ve built up a lot of steam.”
Everyone laughed and continued to toss out bad kitchen puns until Vera brought the meeting to a close.
“It’s incredibly important that we maintain open communication,” she said. “I’ll loop in future directors, but I want all of you to feel comfortable coming to me with any concerns. We’ll check in and obtain permission from all parties at every step.”
“We’ve built extra time into the schedule to rehearse scenes where we need Vera’s help,” Marquita explained to the others. “She’ll work on the choreography then.”
“The last step is a moment of closure,” Vera said. “At the end of each scene, I encourage the actors—in this case, Jasmine and Ashton—to develop some sort of ritual to help you both break the spell of the work and transition back to real life.”
Ashton exchanged a glance with Jasmine. Actors had all sorts of rituals and superstitions, but his mind went blank when he tried to think of what they could do.
“That’s all I have. Thanks for being so open to this process.” Vera’s eyes landed on Ashton when she said “open” and he got the feeling she knew he was holding back. “I’ll see you tomorrow for rehearsal.”
THAT NIGHT, JASMINE met Michelle for dinner at a wine bar in Greenwich Village. After two glasses of wine—and forty-five minutes spent on party-planning details—Jasmine loosened up enough to approach the sexy elephant in the room.
“I think I like Ashton,” she mused.
“I thought you said he doesn’t talk to you.” Michelle’s voice was direct, but not unkind. She topped off their glasses from the bottle of Merlot on the table.
Jasmine scowled. “He kinda doesn’t?”
“So how do you know you like him?”
Jasmine blew out a breath and slumped back in her seat. “Fine. I’m attracted to him. Plus, he’s a good actor. And when I get little glimpses of him . . . I like what I see.”
“Where are you on the scale?”
Years ago, Michelle had created the four-point Jasmine Scale to track Jasmine’s progression—or descent, as Michelle called it—into love.
The first point on the scale was Attraction. It was the curiosity phase, where Jasmine started to wonder about the guy and noticed all the cute and charming things about him, usually while ignoring glaring flaws and red flags.
Next came the Crush. In the Crush phase, Jasmine amped up the flirting, getting physically closer and making it obvious that she was interested.
The third phase, Infatuation, was where she started to lose her sense of self and all good judgment. She made herself too available and did too many favors for the guy in question.
After that, there was only one more step left: Falling in Love, where she threw herself headfirst into the emotional abyss.
“I think I’m still on the first point,” Jasmine said. Michelle was right. Jasmine hadn’t actually spent enough time around Ashton to reach Crush levels yet.
“Then there’s still hope for you.” Michelle grinned, then popped a french fry in her mouth.
Jasmine stole some of Michelle’s fries. “Hooray for me.”
Michelle reached across the table and patted her arm. “Look, Ashton is super hot. If you were going to rebound with someone, you could do a lot worse than him.”
“I’m trying not to rebound at all.”
“Remember your Leading Lady Plan.”
How could she forget? And while she was thinking about it, Jasmine mentally added a fourth point: Leading Ladies do not rebound with their costars.
Speaking of . . .
“We film the kissing scene tomorrow,” she blurted out.
Michelle’s eyes went wide, and then she laughed her head off while Jasmine stewed.
“You are toast,” Michelle said, then raised her glass. “Here lies Jasmine. We loved her well. Cause of death: crushing on her costar.”
Jasmine grabbed her own wine and gulped down half of it. “What is so wrong with having a crush?”
“Oh, now it’s a crush? Are you at the second point on the scale?”
“No.” Not yet.
“There’s nothing wrong with a crush,” Michelle said, her tone gentle. “But you don’t do crushes.”
Jasmine wished she did crushes. How much easier would her life be if she could find someone appealing, never act on it, and then forget all about them? But she just wasn’t wired that way, and she didn’t want to be. Was it so much to ask for a loving, committed relationship with someone who unconditionally loved and accepted her for who she was?
Apparently so, because she’d kissed a lot of frogs over the years, and all of them had broken her heart.
“I’m not going to rebound with Ashton,” she said firmly, more to herself than to Michelle.
Her cousin raised a skeptical eyebrow, then lifted her glass again. “Cheers to that,” she said, although she didn’t sound convinced.
“Don’t tell Ava.”
“Oh, I’m definitely telling Ava.”
Jasmine let out a sigh. “Fine. Tell Ava. Saves me the trouble of bringing her up to speed.”
Michelle chuckled while Jasmine drained her glass.
Chapter 10
Vera was waiting when Ashton arrived on set for private rehearsal early the next day. These scenes would be shot in a working kitchen that was normally used for talk shows but was now outfitted to look like the basement-level kitchen of the Serranos’ East Harlem brownstone. The crew had dressed it in dark wood with warm yellow lighting and copper pots and pans hanging from a low ceiling. Three walls had been built around the kitchen appliances—a sink on one side, a stove on the other, fake stairs in the back, and a wood-topped island in the center.