the first person to pay attention to her—to Lola Bennett—rather than her employer or her contacts, or her usefulness. Plus he’d been quite amiable in the end—once she’d set him straight on manners.
Really.
He needn’t have been so nice to her. She was growing used to being in the background, which was a far cry from being a big fish in the small sea at Oxford University. But it was nothing more than she’d expected. LA was a big city after all, and everyone wanted a piece of the action.
And, well, she needed to focus on her work and the less she thought about Jake’s body the better.
But it was so...so hot. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d find a stroppy neurosurgeon attractive. She’d always imagined she’d get embroiled with the creative, arty type. But her cheeks burned just thinking about him.
Which was stupid.
And, besides, he’d shown no interest in her...in that way. She was just a little bit lonely. And therefore vulnerable.
No. She would never be vulnerable. She was hard-working, focused and intent. Most of the time.
A knock on the door had her heart racing. ‘Come in!’
‘Hey, Lola Bennett.’ Jake stepped into the trailer and gave her a smile. A little uncomfortable, wary maybe, but there it was. ‘I’ve come back to check on Cameron. But I didn’t see her on set and she’s not here?’
‘She’s gone home. They’re working on a different scene now—after you’d gone she did very well and they managed to catch up, but she was tired so she’s gone for an early night. I called the clinic and told them she was okay and not to worry you, but you’d already set off. Don’t you have your cell phone? They said they’d text you.’ What was it about him that made her ramble on so much?
‘I keep it on silent because it keeps ringing and disturbing me.’ He dragged it from his suit jacket pocket and showed her. The strange and yet nice thing about Dr Lewis was that he wasn’t the least bit affected. He was straight up. Honest. Had no pretensions or cocky swagger. And yet he was so damned hot to look at he could have been in any one of her boss’s recent movies, or on the cover of a magazine. He just didn’t seem to realise it. ‘Oh, yes. There is a message.’
‘So you’ve wasted your time. I’m sorry.’ Liar. She was actually a bit pleased that he was here. Well, she would have been had her heart not started a funny little rhythm that felt like she was being kicked in the chest every few minutes. She was pleased, but judging by his frown he wasn’t. ‘I waited here in case you turned up. I didn’t want you to think we’d all abandoned you.’ The added bonus was that she could use the electricity here for free and snack on the leftover food in Cameron’s refrigerator. Plus, the thought of going home to her empty, shabby apartment left her cold.
‘Well, at least someone cares whether my time’s wasted.’ He nodded at the pile of paper on the table. ‘That your script? You never got round to telling me what it’s about. Please don’t tell me it’s another space disaster movie. I think the world has more than enough of them.’
She laughed. ‘How can you say that? The world can never have enough space desert warrior princesses. With AK47s. And very bad dialogue. Make more, I say. Lots of them. With terrible sequels.’
‘No. Not sequels too. Please don’t encourage them.’ The irritation broken, he finally laughed, his eyes shining in the dim light of the trailer lamps. When he relaxed he was pretty damned gorgeous. ‘So what kind of movies do you like, Lola?’
‘Anything with a good story, really. I love characters I can identify with, with guts and emotions. I’m not big on action thrillers and definitely not horrors—unless there’s a real character growth arc... Sorry, am I getting too technical? I’m doing an online course on writing screenplays and learning so much about story development. But the trouble with dissecting movies is that now I can’t see one without analysing it. I’m spoilt for ever.’
‘That sucks.’ He picked up the front sheet of her script. ‘Can I see?’
‘No. Please, no.’ She snatched it back, trying hard not to sound too crazy. Her screenplay was her baby and she wasn’t sure it was good enough yet. ‘I just don’t think it’s ready. My eyes only, and all that.’
‘Sure, I understand.’ At her wary frown he sat down on the sofa opposite. ‘I’m a perfectionist too. I hate doing anything less than stellar.’
‘That’s why you’re so good at your job.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘You wouldn’t know. You’ve hardly seen me at my best.’
‘Well, you were very good with Cameron.’
‘Not at first. You’d have been more impressed if you’d seen me manipulating a probe in her motor cortex...that’s part of the brain...while she was still awake.’ He waved his fingers in the air like a conductor and it was so out of character that she laughed.
‘Believe me, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t even be in the same room as you. Good God, that sounds hideous.’ Although she imagined him all scrubbed up, those strong arms working on a patient. Sweat beading his furrowed brow, his gaze catching hers across a crowded operating theatre... And now she was thinking like a bad romance novel. ‘Do you really do operations while your patients are still awake?’
‘Sometimes it works better that way as we can assess the patient as we go, see how they’re reacting to what we’re doing. It’s important to make sure we’re not affecting certain processes—like speech and movement. It doesn’t hurt—the brain doesn’t have any pain receptors.’
‘Eugh.’ Even so, how could he do that? ‘I wonder if I could put that in my movie?’
‘Why not? Although if it’s a kids’ film, you might have a few complaints. You’d have to have a rider: Do not do this at home.’
And he had a sense of humour that was refreshing. ‘Surely it’s not too hard? A few chopsticks and a handy pocket knife?’
‘Sure, that’s all there is to it. Easy. Plus fifteen years’ training, one or two pesky exams. Oh, and a steady hand is a must. Otherwise...well...’ He made a slicing motion at his throat.
‘Hmm. Good job you have steady hands, then.’ She reached out and took his hands in hers and held them straight out to see if they shook. It was just a joke. A funny little gesture, that was all. It didn’t mean anything.
But the strangest thing happened when she touched him. It was like a force, a shock or a shudder shivering through her. Her stomach began to fizz in an odd way and heat spread through her, from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes.
She looked up at him to see if he’d felt the same thing and he was looking at her in a funny way. Kind of surprised, yet irritated and bemused. And his eyes were still shining, but now in a really, really good way; the blue was dark with intent and she had an urge to lean forward across the table and kiss him. Right there. As if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
But her throat was dry and her heart was hammering, and he still had a frown and, yet, a small smile. And she couldn’t kiss him. How could she kiss him? He’d think she was completely mad. And he’d be right. She was completely mad to want to kiss him. She hardly knew him. And he might not want to
