Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

Bravo. Bravo. Bravissimo.

This was some serious award-winning material. If only there was a category for best on-screen kiss, Jaxson would win by a landslide.

Before I knew what was happening, he’d backed me up to the kitchen counter and pressed his body flush against mine as he ravaged my mouth. His hands roamed all over like they didn’t know where to land, his fingers igniting tiny fireworks wherever they touched. A shudder coursed through me as his kisses became more immediate and demanding. I was fluid, lost in the time space continuum, sparks of light exploding behind my eyelids. His body was hot, the hard lines of his muscles an anchor in the tumultuous, raging sea we were navigating. I grabbed at his t-shirt, desperately trying to hold on lest I drown. Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, come to think of it. His kisses turned wild and savage as his fingers kneaded at my back, pressing me into him until I was sure our bodies were fused together. Welp, there was no turning back now. I clawed at his shirt, eager to feel the contact of his skin and was rewarded by miles of rippled muscle where my fingertips found purchase.

I was sure that part wasn’t in the script—or even historically accurate since he’d probably be wearing an Army uniform. At that moment, I couldn’t care less. He broke away from my lips to trail steamy kisses along the curve of my jaw and down to my neck. Holy smokes, that felt nice. I trailed my hungry fingers up the length of his back, drawing him into me with the little strength I had. My body quivered under his magnificent form, safe within the canopy of his sheltering goodness. I wanted to stay in this bubble forever, but that nagging voice in the back of my head tried to slap a dose of reality on the party.

This isn’t real.

As if Jaxson heard the voice, he took in a sharp breath and cursed, resting his forehead against mine.

“Emma,” he whispered. Then he repeated my name several more times. “Emma, Emma…”

What was I to say to that? Emma’s not here right now, she’s up in the clouds. Please leave a message. Beep.

Instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him, enjoying his warmth for a little while longer. Jax reciprocated the embrace, burying his face in my hair. I could feel his jaw move my ponytail around when he said, “Do you think we’re ready to do that for the camera?”

For the camera.

Of course. This was only pretend. Then why did I lose a piece of my heart just now? Even though I had absolutely no expectations where Jaxson was concerned, a small jolt of disappointment cut into my stomach. That’s what I got for trading my hazmat suit for a spandex unitard. Jaxson and I weren’t meant for romance. I smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

“It’ll be brilliant,” I said into his chest. “We’ll fool ‘em all.”

21

Shipping

Emma

Annie and Randall must have been in the running for the shortest honeymoon in history. They were back from a three-day cruise down the coast and ready for business. Even though Annie didn’t need to be at the workshop session, Randall needed to finalize his preliminary designs for the studio execs to see on Friday. She came with him. Everything was moving along swimmingly. The music was perfect, the dancers were phenomenal, and the principal players were more than ready. Once the project got green lit, we’d be that much closer to shooting the movie.

Frank took a seat next to me when he arrived, grinning ear to ear and practically oozing the gossip gravy.

“You’ll never guess what I just saw.”

He startled me at first. I was expecting Jaxson any minute and wanted to have a moment before we began for the day to discuss whatever happened the night before. We needed to agree to keep our lips to ourselves from now on unless it was on screen. Frank was a welcome distraction with his breezy humour and playful disposition.

“Ummm… Sasquatch?” I guessed.

“Nope.”

“Space aliens invading the dry cleaner down the street?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Why the dry cleaner of all places?”

I shrugged. “That place seems dodgy to me.”

Frank perched himself on the edge of his chair and spread out his hands as though preparing me for the most exciting news of the century.

“Are you ready for this? Jennifer drove into the parking lot in a brand-new Porsche 718 Boxster convertible. Light blue.”

“So?”

“So, there’s no way she can afford a car like that.” He nodded knowingly. “There’s no other explanation. Jennifer Fairfax has a wealthy benefactor.”

“Wealthy benefactor? This isn’t nineteenth-century England, my good fellow. Nobody has a wealthy benefactor.”

Annie, who until that moment I thought was making googley eyes at her husband, leaned into me and asked, “What’s all this? Don’t leave me out of the gossip.”

She smiled at Frank, and they shook hands over my lap. I introduced them and got her caught up on the wiggle-waggle. Frank heavily insinuated the car was a gift from that Dixon chap, but I argued a guy like that might not have the free cash for an extravagant gesture of that sort. Surely, his wife would notice such an expense. It had to be her manager, Bill Campbell.

“Are you kidding me?” he cried. “Have you met Bill? He’s the cheapest SOB on the planet. It’s gotta be Dixon.”

“Why don’t we just ask her?” I suggested.

“Do you actually think she’ll admit to such a thing?” Frank chuckled as he said this.

Annie cleared her throat. “I don’t know this girl, and far be it for me to guess, but how do you know she didn’t save up for it?”

“Because I overheard her say to Pinky how much debt she’s in,” replied Frank with hushed tones. “She was saying how this job couldn’t have come at a better time.