She poured in the coconut milk and the flaxseed oil and got ready to hit the button if she needed to drown out anything stupid he said.
“Really? It shouldn’t be. Of course I was going to contact the lead in my new movie,” he said.
Her pulse quickened. “What?” Was that his way of offering her a role in one of his new films? Would she actually consider starring in any more of his productions? A million thoughts spiraled through her mind in that second.
“Well, of course, it’s not really my movie. I’m just directing it.”
Her hand fell away from the blender. What was he saying? She refused to assume anything but that her gut was telling her she wasn’t going to like where this was going. “What are you talking about? What movie?”
“Into the Cage.”
Sitting on a stool at the counter, she rested her head in her hand. “You took on an indie film?” She couldn’t believe this. He’d always looked down on independent filmmakers and refused to watch anything other than blockbuster hits.
“Yes. Have you read this script? It’s fantastic.”
Her jaw clenched. Yes, she knew that.
“I couldn’t just let a movie this good sit on some film festival roster unnoticed, viewed by a hundred people. This movie should be on the big screen.”
She agreed, but she hated that it meant having him involved. She didn’t like the idea of being forced to work with him again. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet. “Exactly. This movie should be on the big screen. You’re not planning to do a script rewrite or anything, are you?” It happened all the time when the big studios got involved with small projects. They always had to make things bigger and better, often destroying the purity and rawness of the film in the process.
“No, we’re not. We love its simplicity. Besides, we want to keep the filming to the original five or six weeks.”
Thank God for that at least. They weren’t changing the movie she loved so much and her time with Brantley would be kept to a minimum. Still, five or six weeks suddenly seemed a lot longer.
“Anyway, I wanted to let you know about a cast read-through next week in LA. I’ll e-mail you the schedule and I’ll get Lucy to arrange your travel.”
Lucy. Right. His personal assistant, who’d assisted him with removing his clothing on more than one occasion. She clenched her teeth. “I’m training. I’m not sure I can make it there next week.”
“Surely you can take a week off.”
“No, I can’t.” She’d been making good progress transforming her body; she couldn’t afford to take a break. Besides, she didn’t want to go to LA yet . . . leave Tyson yet. “The original timeline gave me a little less than three months to get ready for this role, and I need to stick to my schedule,” she said firmly.
He cleared his throat. “Okay. Then we will come to you.”
Since when did Brantley succumb to the whims of an actor? He must really believe in this project. Which annoyed her, because she’d believed in it first. Had she not gotten the lead role and announced the project a few weeks before, he’d never have even read the script in the first place. “You’re going to fly the rest of the cast to Vegas?”
“If that’s what you need. You are the star,” he said and she couldn’t decipher whether he was being sincere or not. Knowing him? Probably not.
Either way, it did solve the problem. “That would be better,” she said slowly.
“Great. Besides, we still need to cast several real fighters for the movie. What better place to find them?”
She immediately thought of the young woman on the plane who hadn’t gotten the part. “Actually, ask Kilroy for the casting call sheet. There is one woman here in Vegas who might be a consideration.”
“Will do. Anyway, I’ll e-mail you the details once everything is finalized . . . Oh, and Parker—it will be great to see you again.”
She sighed. “I’ll look for your e-mail.” She hung up and tossed her phone onto her counter.
Well, that sucked.
* * *
“You okay?” Tyson asked as she hit the targets he held later that day.
“Yeah . . . I’m fine.” She jabbed several more times, desperate to take her frustrations out in training. Since the call from Brantley that morning, she’d struggled with mixed emotions about the project. Obviously Kilroy Clarke’s attempt at gathering interest and funding by casting her had worked, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. But the biggest thing bothering her was she didn’t trust Brantley not to mess with the movie, despite his claim that they were sticking to the original script. She dropped her hands. “Actually I’m not fine. The movie rights were sold to Blue Cloud Pictures.”
The words were met with a blank stare from Tyson.
Right. She forgot she was talking to the guy who lived most of his life under a rock. “The movie is now in the hands of Brantley Cruise. Blue Cloud Pictures is his company.”
Tyson studied her, obviously not getting the problem. “Isn’t that a good thing? More exposure for the film? I thought that’s what you were hoping for.”
“I used to sleep with him,” she said. It was true. To say there had been more to her relationship with the man would be stretching the truth. She knew that now. They’d made movies together and had mediocre sex. They’d never shared the same passionate connection she had with Tyson. Nor had Brantley ever evoked the same gut-twisting, chest-tightening anxiousness she experienced whenever she was with Tyson.
“Where is he?” Tyson said, offering the appropriate response, for which she wanted to kiss him. But she held back as they’d agreed on keeping it professional in front of the other fighters. Not that they were really fooling anyone.
“Don’t worry. It’s not like that.” At least, she hoped it wasn’t. If Brantley thought she would be falling into bed with him again just because they’d be working together on set for six weeks, he was going to be disappointed. Their breakup had been final. Catching him with his assistant had been more than enough of a wakeup call to make her realize that there was no future with him. And the fact that she’d been more depressed about what that might mean for her career and not her heart told her everything she’d needed to know. “He’s just going to be in town with the other cast members in a few days. They want to do a read-through . . .” She’d received the e-mail with the schedule from Lucy an hour ago.
Tyson shrugged. “That doesn’t sound so bad. I mean, at least he isn’t asking you to fly out there, right?”
“He also expects me to throw a cast party at my place—a way for everyone to meet in an informal, relaxed setting before the read-through.” She hated cast parties. They had always been just an opportunity to try to schmooze with industry executives. It was at one of those parties years ago that she’d met Brantley in the first place.
Tyson nodded silently.
“Will you come?” she asked quickly, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt.
“No.”
“Please,” she said. The last thing she wanted was to throw this get-together, and she really wanted him there. She’d feel so much better with him at her side, coming face to face with her ex for the first time since the break-up.
He hesitated for just a second longer and she held her breath, her eyes pleading with him to say yes.
“Okay. I’ll come.”
“Really?” Relief washed over her.
He moved closer and touched her cheek; the cool leather of his training glove against her skin wasn’t the intimate contact from him she longed for, but she’d take it. “Yes. Now stop stressing and try to focus, okay?”
She nodded, and suddenly the weight from that morning’s phone call lifted. Tyson would be there with her. She wouldn’t have to face Brantley alone. She could do this.