Second Take at Love
Автор
Nina Crespo
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Chapter One
Holland Ainsley stood in her bedroom, holding up a vintage logoed T-shirt in each hand. She barely had room in her suitcase for one of them, but the orange shirt emblemized with Summer Party intertwined with surf boards and palm trees, and the beige one with a peace symbol, were two of her favorites.
She tucked the orange one into her bag on the queen-size bed and set the beige one aside. Packing light had been her intention, but...
Her phone rang on the nightstand. Recognizing the ringtone, she answered it. “Good morning, sunshine.”
During the beat of silence, it was easy for her to imagine Burke Layton’s semi amused expression. He wasn’t the sunny, radiant type. Right then, his dark brows were probably raised slightly above the bold, black-framed glasses that accentuated the hint of arrogance in his blue eyes.
“When are you leaving for the airport?” he asked.
Giving in to the impulse, she grabbed the beige T-shirt and stuffed it in her bag as well. “A car is picking me up in thirty minutes. Why?”
“Cancel it. I’ll be there in ten.”
It was just like Burke to skip past hello and head straight to a plan. But planning was her job. His was financier. That was the agreement the two of them had made when they’d formed a film production company together. Six months into their venture with A & L Productions, he still seemed to grapple with his role of silent partner.
Sitting on her suitcase, she forced the top and bottom closer together and tugged the zipper shut. “You do know there’s a difference between offering me a ride and ordering me to go with you?”
“Ordering you?” Burke chuckled. “Trust me, I’m well aware that I can’t order you to do anything. But we need to meet before you go.”
The seriousness in his tone made Holland pause before sliding her suitcase to the floor. As she straightened the hem of her white boho blouse over the waistband of her faded jeans, warmth from exertion flushed in her light brown cheeks.
What was going on? And why was he being so mysterious? She almost asked, but the fact that he hadn’t told her right from the start meant they probably needed to discuss it face-to-face.
“I need fifteen minutes, not ten,” she said.
“See you then.”
After canceling the ride her assistant had arranged for her to Los Angeles International Airport, Holland went through a mental checklist for her trip to Maryland. Her comfy lace-up combat boots were already in her suitcase. She’d also thrown in a light jacket and a couple of sweaters. Spring on the East Coast was always iffy as far as the weather was concerned. She’d also brought a nice dress and shoes to go with everything. And her other must-haves were packed, too.
The green backpack with her wallet, passport, laptop and trusty Nikon camera was on the dresser. Between the Nikon and the camera on her phone, she’d come back with plenty of photos as ideas for her passion project, a potential documentary about old houses.
As far as her passport, Holland always took it with her now when she traveled. With productions currently happening in multiple locations, she never knew when someone might need her to come to the set. Usually issues could be handled with a phone or a video chat, but sometimes an in-person visit was best.
For instance, just last week there had been a camera equipment problem in Canada. Laurel, the holiday rom-com’s director, was fairly new to the position. She’d handled the problem, but during their phone call, Holland had picked up on the high level of stress in the woman’s voice. And she’d understood where it came from—a feeling of being responsible for everything but also that nothing was in your control. For a woman in a male-dominated field, the desire to get it right and prove yourself made the weight even heavier.
Holland had flown down to Canada that past weekend. Working together, she and Laurel had adjusted the production schedule to get things back on track and bring the filming of the movie in close to budget.
Satisfied she had everything she needed, Holland secured the pack on top of her suitcase. After resting a pair of aviator sunglasses in front of her dark auburn afro ponytail, she took her things downstairs.
The stiletto heels of her ankle boots tapped on the tile floor as she rolled her bags past her sunlit living room decorated in hues of purple and beige. The space was just as tidy as the expansive dining room on the left with a table for eight she hardly ever used.
She’d given up on keeping plants alive shortly after moving into the four-bedroom house three years ago. Between travel and her hectic work schedule, they didn’t stand a chance. Instead, table-and floor-size abstract sculptures in square nooks in the walls and in the corners added focal points in every room.
As she reached the front door, her phone chimed with a notification that someone was at the entrance to the driveway. A black Range Rover waited at the security gate. Burke. Tapping in a code, she gave the vehicle access to the property.
Outside, the luxury SUV rounded the circular drive bordering the lawn and parked in front of the house.
A dark-haired driver got out to take her suitcase and open the back passenger-side door.
Returning the driver’s friendly good morning with a smile and a thank-you, Holland got inside.
Burke sat in the back behind the driver.
As she fastened her seat belt, she gave her business partner a saccharine-sweet smile. “Good morning. Again. Or do you prefer buenos días or bonjour? I want to know how to greet you when I ambush you with a meeting right before your vacation.”
Burke raked a hand through his short black hair. “Good luck with that. I don’t take vacations.”
He wasn’t lying. His attitude, along with his white pullover, jeans and tennis shoes, may have appeared laid-back, but to the discerning eye they whispered “expensive”. His high-end clothing also mirrored the rewards he’d reaped for working constantly.
Two years older than her at age thirty, he’d made his first million by his midtwenties in the tech industry.
With his height and build, he could have easily walked a fashion runway like she had before she’d left the modeling industry seven years ago to pursue a career in film. But he’d tried acting before making his bankroll.
His family was an old-guard Hollywood dynasty of award-winning performers. However, Burke’s budding acting career had come to a swift halt after he’d starred in three bad movies. Not a terrible thing, since it led him to form his first company.
A mutual friend had introduced Holland and Burke at a house party, insisting they needed to be on each other’s contact list. That chance meeting had led to their friends-only relationship, and it had also paid off.
After Holland’s recent split with her old business partners—they’d wanted to keep making sequels and spin-offs of her directorial hit, Shadow Valley, and she didn’t—Burke had approached her about going into business with him.
He’d ventured back into movies by funding independent films but now wanted a hand in developing projects.
She’d walked away from the old partnership with no further obligations to them, but the trade-off was the loss of funding to bring to fruition the options and scripts she’d acquired as part of the split. Partnering with Burke had solved her financial problem. And they shared the same vision of developing a range of narratives, from fanciful to inspiring, that were grounded in solid storytelling.
Burke glanced at her suitcase in the back of the SUV. “Are you planning to come back or are you running away?”
“That depends on what you tell me.”
As the chauffeur drove toward the front gate that opened automatically, Burke handed her a manila envelope. “This was delivered to me yesterday.”
Unease moved through Holland as she opened it and slid out a photo.
It showed two people standing on a balcony in a passionate embrace.
She recognized the location. It was the guest lodge on the property of the closed ski resort where they were filming in Canada.
The face of one of the people in the photo was obscured by the hood of their jacket. But the blond-haired guy they were with was clearly visible. It was her ex-boyfriend Nash Moreland. “Okay, I still don’t understand why you’re showing me this.”
“The person he’s with is Gina Landry.”
Gina? His very engaged costar? “Oh no...”
“Oh shit is more like it. If this were to get out, it would be disastrous for her career.”
Gina was a former child star. The roles the brunette played skewed toward the girl next door. In the movie she and Nash were currently shooting, she was cast as an accident-prone, endearing angel trying to earn her silver wings by helping Nash’s character, a grumpy cattle rancher, find love.
Reinforcing her wholesome image, she’d just become engaged to a guy back in her hometown in Nebraska. The reality series spotlighting the couple’s wedding preparations was set to premiere just before the movie’s release.
Yet Gina had put her career at risk, not to mention the film, by having a fling with Nash?
Holland and Nash had dated after she’d directed him in Shadow Valley. Natural attraction, and the ease of just being together, because they understood the expectations of each other’s careers, had led them into a relationship.
But after two years of being together, Holland had grown tired of mostly engaging with Nash’s carefully cultivated actor persona. She’d wanted to connect with the real Nash, not the guy who did everything for show. After a long heart-to-heart conversation, he’d vowed to change, but he couldn’t let go of the façade. It had been hard to accept he wouldn’t. Not even for her. She’d broken up with him.
Her ex did have charming down to a science, and the whole action star with a bad-boy vibe going for him. Maybe that had been the attraction for Gina.
Still, the actors should have known better than to get involved. Tell-all shows, magazines and blogs always had people waiting to catch wind of a scandalous on-set affair between costars.
Holland peered at the photo. “Are you one hundred percent sure this is Gina? We can’t see her face...”
“It’s her. She and Nash confirmed they were together. They claim it was just that one night. They thought they’d been discreet.”
“Well, somebody noticed them,” she pointed out. “Who was it? A freelancer or a tabloid photographer?”
“Neither. It was snapped by one of the security guards. He tried to cover up his involvement by having his girlfriend deliver the photo, along with a letter threatening to sell it unless we paid them. Once we traced everything to the guard, we reminded him about the repercussions of breaching the NDA he’d signed.” Burke glanced over her and his lips quirked with a small sardonic smile. “After that, he was extremely cooperative about giving us access to his phone and computers. All the photos we found were like this one. Fortunately, he never got a clear shot of Gina. We wiped everything we found with her and Nash from the security guard’s and the girlfriend’s devices.”
“Great. So it’s taken care of.”
“Possibly. But Gina’s people are also concerned about rumors that were already circulating about Nash and Gina on set. They want them buried or to be able to cast doubt on their validity.”
Holland narrowed her eyes. “How will they do that?”
“The easiest way is to plant a rumor that he’s with someone other than Gina.”
“Who?”
Burke’s gaze settled on her face.
“Me? No way!”
He stalled the rest of her forthcoming objection with a raised hand. “I have to agree. They’re right about this. You and Nash have a history, and you were there at the time this picture was taken. It’s plausible the person Nash is seeing is you.”
“But it isn’t. We broke up over a year ago, and there’s no way I would ever get back with him—even for one night.”
Ending her relationship with Nash had been hard. Coming to terms with the fact that she’d been more invested in the relationship than him had been even harder.
As difficult as facing that heartbreak had been, it had clarified where her focus needed to be. On her career. Since then, she’d poured her time and energy into her work.
Burke continued his campaign to win her over. “It would just be a rumor. People’s imaginations would do the rest. Especially since he just broke up with his last girlfriend. The story could be as simple as he needed comfort, and you hooked up with him for the hell of it. Neither you nor Nash would need to make a comment about it.”
A laugh of disbelief slipped out of Holland. “So you want to replace the truth about him and Gina with a salacious rumor about me being Nash’s one-night rebound?”
“It’s a lot better than what could happen if we don’t get ahead of this.” Frustration shadowed Burke’s grim expression. “Our movie is riding on Gina’s key audience, and they won’t go for her cheating on her fiancé. This movie could end up doomed before they even finish filming it. And trying to rehab her image over this mistake would take time and money we don’t have. The film’s budget is already tight, mainly because of Nash’s and Gina’s salaries, and it’s gotten even tighter because of the delay that probably could have been avoided.”
Holland huffed out a breath. The camera equipment issue had happened because of a miscommunication. It wasn’t an ideal occurrence, but anyone who’d been in the position of supervising multiple people had been through the experience...even Burke. Choosing Laurel as the director and handling the casting of the film were Holland’s choices. Was he doubting her decisions or trying to blame her in some way for their current problems?
As she considered those possibilities, her own frustration mounted. “I understand that we have an image crisis on our hands, but in Canada, I watched the dailies and viewed the raw footage from prior days of filming. Under Laurel’s direction, Gina and Nash are brilliant. Even with the cost of the delay, which Laurel has already cut down by adjusting the filming schedule, every dollar we’re spending on this project is worth it.”
She and Burke locked gazes for a few long seconds. This was their first disagreement as partners. How they worked through this problem would set the tone for the future.
He released a long breath. “Arguing about this won’t solve anything. The truth is, it won’t matter how brilliant the film is if a scandal takes us down. As partners, we need to be in sync. The ball’s in your court on this one. What do you want to do?”
