He broke the kiss to look for a surface to set her on. But the second he spotted the rickety folding table at one end of the tent, the walkie on Carmen’s waistband squawked.
“Carmen?” a tinny voice called out. “We need Victor on stage in five.”
Breathing hard, Victor looked to Carmen, their noses inches apart. “Think we can do this in five minutes?”
Her bland stare was unamused. “Victor, put me down.”
With a disappointed sigh, he set her on her feet, then helped her straighten her hair and her clothes.
“Well, at least you look more alert now,” she remarked, reaching up to fix his hair.
“Oh, I am.” His voice was thick with innuendo.
She glanced down at his pants, then gave him a stern look. “You better get that under control before you give the audience the wrong kind of show.”
“Keep bossing me around and it’s not going anywhere. I told you, I love it.”
That made her laugh. She gave him a small peck on the lips, glad that he was in better spirits.
“You’re not nothing,” she said fiercely. “And everyone knows it. I think that’s what really worries you.”
His brows creased. “What?”
“If everyone knows you’re extraordinary”—she jabbed a finger in his chest—“then you have to know it too. And it means you can’t get away with acting like a scared little boy anymore. But we’ll deal with that later. Come on.”
She took his hand and led him out of the tent.
“Cut!”
Chapter 16
Outside the tent set, Jasmine turned to Ashton, adrenaline coursing through her. With a big smile on his handsome face, he raised his hand. She smacked it with her own. The sound rang out and the slap reverberated through her palm. Now that was a satisfying high five.
“We did that,” she said.
“Hell yeah, we did,” he agreed.
On the sideline, Ofelia, the first AD, was positively beaming. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” she said.
The episode four director came over too. “Playback looks good. Let’s go from wide to medium.”
Ashton shot Jasmine a thumbs-up, and she grinned back, but deep down, she knew she was a liar, liar, pants on fire. In Ashton’s dressing room, she’d acted all shocked and offended at the thought of them sleeping together. She deserved a damn Oscar for that performance, because there was nothing objectionable about the idea at all. Even now, her traitorous mind couldn’t stop replaying the sensation of his hands gripping her thighs.
Shit, she was experiencing the warning signs of a crush—the second point on the Jasmine Scale. That warm feeling in her solar plexus, as if they had a connection that was pulling her toward him. The desire to make him smile, asking questions and hanging on his every word when he answered, looking for hints that he might be crushing on her too.
It’s all in your head, she told herself. This isn’t real.
God, she was so predictable. Michelle was going to have a field day with this. Jasmine had developed a crush on nearly every cute guy she’d spoken to since the age of twelve, and she was terrible at hiding those feelings from her cousins.
But maybe she shouldn’t hide them. Maybe her cousins’ interference was exactly what she needed.
After they completed all the takes for the scene, Jasmine grabbed her phone from her chair and hurried back to her room. Once alone, she dashed off a text to Ava and Michelle.
Jasmine: Quick. Remind me why having a fling with Ashton is a really bad idea.
Ava replied first.
Ava: Because a Leading Lady is whole and happy on her own.
Her reply was so fast, Jasmine was sure Ava had copied Jasmine’s list onto her own phone, just for this occasion. Michelle answered next.
Michelle: And Leading Ladies don’t piss where they eat.
Jasmine scowled at the screen.
Jasmine: I don’t think that was an official point on the list.
Michelle’s reply was quick.
Michelle: Two words: Seth Thomas.
Two more words: Abuela’s party.
Oh god, she was right. Jasmine had to get her growing attraction to Ashton under control before she did something stupid, like she had with Seth.
She’d been casually dating Seth Thomas, one of her costars on Sunrise Vista, a short-lived daytime soap about architects, before the writers decided to make their characters an item. Seth had interpreted this to mean he could take certain liberties with Jasmine on set. When she’d suggested they handle the scenes like professionals, he’d accused her of “running hot and cold”—among other things—and stormed off to his trailer.
Definitely not an experience she cared to repeat.
She also had to figure out a way to invite Ashton to the party. They were on better terms now, but she still didn’t feel comfortable asking him yet. Especially after spilling how much her grandmother adored him. Ashton didn’t say much, but she’d noticed that he kept to himself and avoided the press. What if he thought she was trying to use him? Or set him up? Maybe he didn’t like fan attention. Would he think less of her grandma?
She’d have to kill him if he thought badly of her grandma, and that didn’t bode well for a second season of Carmen in Charge.
Maybe private rehearsals weren’t such a great idea after all. She couldn’t deny that running lines with him had helped their performance in episode four, but it had the potential to wreak havoc on her Leading Lady Plan.
His sweet awkwardness was too endearing, especially when coupled with the face and body of a god and an outwardly aloof demeanor. Plus, he made her laugh, and he cared about his family. How could she not fall for him?
But she couldn’t. Not this time. For once, she was going to cockblock her stupidly romantic heart.
Something else occurred to her, and she shot off another text to her cousins.
Jasmine: Can I get back on social media yet?
Michelle: Um, no.
Ava: I wouldn’t recommend it.
Jasmine let out a sigh. She had Ava monitoring her accounts and Michelle keeping up with the Google alert. They were supposed to let her know when the gossip reporters had tired of speculating about her and McIntyre. In the meantime, she was staying off social media and the internet, and avoiding anywhere that sold entertainment magazines. It was easier while she was working on set, but it also meant she couldn’t post any cute behind-the-scenes clips to drum up fan interest in Carmen.
If Ava and Michelle were suggesting she stay away, it meant the stories were still circulating. The last magazine she’d seen had claimed she was sending McIntyre late-night texts begging him to take her back. In reality, she’d blocked his number from her phone, but the lies still hurt.
Stupid McIntyre. She couldn’t even kill time scrolling on Instagram because of him.
She didn’t think she’d thrown herself at him, per se, as one particularly nasty “anonymous source” had claimed, but, with the clarity of hindsight, she knew that she’d done everything in her power to make him feel loved and appreciated. The way she wanted to feel.
Clingy. Obsessive. Desperate. Embarrassing.
Those were the kinds of words that showed up in the gossip pieces, but they weren’t new to her. She’d been accused of being clingy ever since middle school, after Everett Giordano dumped her in sixth grade. She’d sprawled on her bedroom floor listening to her sister’s Alanis Morissette CD for a week after that, because that’s what she’d seen girls in movies do after a breakup. Everett had been the first to shatter her heart, but not the last. And eventually she’d gotten much better about breakups.
No, not breakups. Getting dumped. Just like the magazine cover on her grandmother’s refrigerator door declared. Jasmine got dumped. Always. She never did the dumping because . . . well, because she was so afraid of being alone that she clung to guys she’d be better off kicking to the curb.
Guys like McIntyre. Like Seth Thomas. Like Everett Giordano.
How many more reasons did she need? Crushes were for suckers.
She opened the small fridge under the counter and pulled out a bottle of seltzer.
Her cousins said she was just picking the wrong guys, but sometimes, Jasmine wasn’t so sure. After all, she was the common factor here.
A new text came through on her phone from a number she didn’t recognize.
Unknown: Since I’m leaving earlier today, do you want to meet me in the hotel gym tonight to go over the script for ep 5? —Ash
Warmth bubbled over her, bringing heat to her cheeks. Her lips spread in a small smile.
Without a second thought, she wrote back.
Jasmine: Absolutely. 7pm?
Ashton: Perfecto. See you there.
After adding his number into her phone under the name Ángel Luis, Jasmine switched back to the Primas of Power group text. Her thumb hovered over the empty message box. Then, instead of typing something, she shut the phone off, dropped it into her bag, and went back to set.
ASHTON HAD MADE a terrible mistake.
When he’d suggested Jasmine meet him in the hotel’s fitness center, he figured it would be neutral ground. Less intimate than their dressing rooms or hotel suites, innocuous enough that no one would think anything of two costars reading from their scripts on separate machines. And with the scent of bleach and sweat in the air, not at all sexy.
But when Jasmine walked into the small workout space, Ashton caught sight of her in the mirrored wall and nearly fell off the treadmill.