Friends With Way Too Many Benefits (27 page)

Todd widened his eyes. "Man, you should totally teach a class."

"There's so much more to learn." Brian exhaled. "Next week we should go over how to handle questions like, 'does my rear end look big in this… fill in the blank,' and how to respond to statements like, 'I feel ugly today.'"

"Yeah, right, yeah, I usually screw those up." Jim shook his head.

"Oh…" Brian's eyes brightened. "… and how to not let a hair color change or new haircut slip past you. God, you miss one of those and you're in trouble. They take an eighth inch off the length or go from light ash blonde to fucking medium ash blonde— a change so slight that only the guy from
Project Runway
could pick up on—and you don't want to know the shitstorm you might encounter depending on her mood."

"Fuck me…" Jim put his hand to the back of neck and stretched it from side to side. "How can we ever—"

"Why do you guys put yourselves through all this?" Todd interrupted.

"Well, being single is like the worst freaking thing in the world and…" Brian suddenly cringed. "Oh, sorry, dude."

"No, don't worry about it." Todd shrugged.

"I mean, as much crap as you need to put up with and being on your toes every second and struggling to be politically correct about the most mundane thing is nothing compared to the way having someone look at you like you are their world makes you feel."

"Yeah, it is sorta cool." Jim agreed.

"Not to mention that the sex when you really know someone and are in tune with them completely is absolutely mind-blowing."

"Shit, now I am depressed." Todd frowned.

"Oh no," Jim grumbled.

"What?"

"Victoria asked me to pick something up the grocery store on the way home and I can't remember what it was."

"Dude, you've got to write crap like that down. Record it on your phone." Brian rolled his eyes, sighing.

Jim put a finger to his chin. "Was it milk or…"

"Bro, don't go home empty handed."

"I know, I know. I might have to call her and ask."

"If you do that, don't let her know you forgot. Call and tell her you're in the store and just say you wanted to make sure she didn't need anything else and hopefully she's say something like, 'No just the eggs or whatever…'"

"You're a fucking genius." Jim smiled, impressed. "You sure you've only been married two years?"

"Not even."

"That's right." Jim shook his head.

Brian held his head high. "Yep, six hundred twenty seven of the happiest days of my life."

Paul entered the hotel suite to find a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket, a candlelit dinner waiting under fancy stainless steel plate covers and Natalie wearing some short, white, flowy, sexy, nighty thing— it was freaking awesome.

"Wow, I wish it was my birthday every day."

Rushing to the door, she gave him a kiss. "Happy proper birthday."

"Thanks."

"Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

She placed her finger on his chest and opened up his top button. "I ordered us that salad thing you had the other day." She flashed him a sexy grin. "I ordered a light meal... I figured that was best for what I have planned for later."

"Oh, really."

"Yeah, you'll be spending a little time upside down, and in various contorted positions."

"Sounds like fun." He flashed her a smile. "Just let me jump in the shower and I'll meet you in five minutes at the table."

She bounced on her heels. "I'll pour the champagne."

Four minutes and seventeen seconds later, he sat down at the table wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She handed him a glass of champagne. They clinked glasses and each took a sip.

Smiling, she pulled a small professionally-wrapped gift box from her lap and handed it to him.

"I told you I didn’t want you to—"

"There is no way I wasn't going to get you a gift. Now open it."

Shaking his head, he sighed and unwrapped the box to discover a black iPad. "Wow, this is... thank you."

"It's the 128 GB model with two years of cellular service," she announced, proudly.

"You really shouldn't have."

"No, I should have, I sorta caused you to drop your old one in the tub, remember?" She wagged her finger at him, motioning toward his mid-section. "I think I was touching your, you know, and it was all my fault."

"I do sorta remember that." He narrowed his eyes in mock confusion.

"Oh, you only sorta remember that, huh?" She made a face.

"Maybe later you could help refresh my memory."

"I think there's a good chance that might happen."

"This day just keeps getting better and better." He shook his head from side to side smiling. "I love it. Thank you."

"Be sure to keep that one away from the bathtub. If I'm around you, I have a hard time keeping my hands off of you."

"Obviously." He shot her a grin.

They shared a laugh before each pulling the cover off their plates revealing a beautifully colorful large salad. She skewered a cucumber and said, "Now that's just your small gift."

"Well, I know that. Aren’t we heading over there later?" He flashed her another smile, and nodded toward the king-sized bed.

"We are, but that's not what I'm talking about."

"I'm scared to ask."

"It's a surprise, but don't worry, it won't be arriving for a couple of days so you'll have time to brace yourself for it."

"I really hate getting gifts. I didn't get you anything."

"Um, it's not my birthday, silly. Plus you've given me so much more than—"

"Well, I am pretty good over there, I know that!" He put on an arrogant expression.

"I'm not talking about that." She giggled. "Although you are pretty good."

"You're not so bad yourself."

She shook her head, fighting back a giggle. "Anyway, just expect a surprise sometime in the next four or five days. I think you're going to love it."

"I know I will." Sliding his arm across the table, he motioned for her hand. She placed her fingers over his and he cradled them in his own and began, "I think I'm, uh..."

"What?"

"Falling in love with you."

Taken a bit by surprise, her jaw fell open. "I think I, uh... I'm falling for you too."

Their fingers intertwined, and the way they looked at one another the attraction and the heat rising up between them was undeniable.

He said, "Do you maybe want to eat later."

She nodded with a grin. Rising up to his feet, he put his hand out for her to join him. When she did, he scooped her up off the ground and carried her toward the bed.

A few minutes after six in the morning, Natalie woke with the guilt weighing on her heavily. She watched Paul sleep, frowning and working out exactly what she should tell him and how to say it. Twenty minutes later, she summoned the courage and whispered, "Paul."

He moaned softly and turned away from her.

"Paul," she repeated and rose up from the mattress to hover over him.

"What?" he replied groggily as his eyes struggled to open.

"I need to tell you something."

"Huh?"

"When we met at the health club, I—"

"What time is it?"

"Almost six thirty."

"Oh, what about the club?"

"I, um—"

His eyes shot open. "Six thirty!"

"Yeah."

He sat on the edge of the bed running his hands over his face. "I totally forgot to set the alarm. We've got an early day. Shit." Rising to his feet, he headed toward the bathroom, stopping in the doorway and turning back to her. "What were you saying about the club?"

"Oh, it can wait."

"Okay." He flipped on the bathroom light and turned on the water in the shower.

She curled up with her pillow and sighed.

Jillian pulled into the driveway of the upscale house location secured for filming and marveled at the transformation since she had seen it only three weeks earlier. The landscaping was now completely different and gorgeous. Freshly painted, the exterior was an attractive shade of yellow. It was a home worthy of her exquisite tastes.

Five other cars lined the driveway and she headed inside to meet with all the principals from the movie. Walking into the foyer, she spotted Paul along with the Art Director and Cinematographer standing in the great room holding their hands up with their thumbs pointed together and looking through their makeshift cameras and doing that thing movie makers do.

She headed into the room and exchanged greetings with the three men. Suddenly another man entered through the patio door. "Paul, we've got a problem."

The director headed out the door with the other men and Jillian in tow. The group headed toward the tennis court. The man who summoned Paul began, "There just isn't enough room out here to get the shots we need."

"I thought we were going to take down this fence?"

"We can't. We'll be too close to the pool if we do." He moved to the fence and added, "All the pool equipment is on the other side. We'd have to move it and break up the concrete. It's just not feasible."

Paul sighed. "How the hell did we miss this? We chose this house because it met all our needs and now you’re telling me it doesn't. We're shooting here starting tomorrow." His gaze traveled to each of the men in the group. "What can we do about this?"

The Cinematographer said, "What about the first house we saw? That one had a large court. Maybe we could use it."

"Okay, yeah, check on it," Paul replied.

"Paul?" Jillian said.

"Yes."

"My husband, um, he owns a tennis club. It's only about five minutes from here. They have these two courts together in the back of the property that are very private and look very residential. In fact they look a lot like what we have here."

"Really?"

"I'm sure we could film there."

Paul smiled. "Jillian that would be amazing. Would you mind running Jason over there right now and letting him take a look?"

"No, I'd be happy to."

Paul headed over to Jason and mumbled a few words then took off back toward the house with the group following. Jason hung back with Jillian. She pulled her phone from her purse. "Let me call my husband."

Twenty minutes later Brian met Jillian and Jason at the club and provided a tour of courts fourteen and fifteen. Newly added less than a year earlier, they were in perfect condition, spacious and provided all the privacy needed for the movie shoot.

Satisfied, Jason and Jillian returned to the house location to deliver the good news and Brian headed to his office to block off the court time to work around the film's schedule.

The first day of shooting at the new location coincided with Amanda Joseph's arrival in Miami. The house location was now bustling with dozens of crew members. Paul announced an impromptu meeting with the sixteen women associated with the production, Jillian, Liz, who was one of the producers, and a host of female crew members waited in the large great room of the house for the director to arrive. All were concerned by the absence of any of their male counterparts and were in the midst of that discussion when Paul Ford entered the room followed by a production assistant carrying a clipboard.

"Ladies, thank you for coming." After shrugging, Paul rubbed his hands together nervously. "As you know Miss Joseph will be on set today and I just wanted to take a few minutes to discuss some of her... let's call them requirements."

The women looked at one another then settled on the director with confused expressions.

"First do not look her in the eye."

"You mean ever?" One of the women asked.

"That's right."

"What if you need to ask her something or if she asks you something?"

"Then you need to just try to glance at her, but only for a moment then look away, but…" He shook his head, flustered. "You get it, right?"

"Wait, how exactly do you do that?" Another woman asked.

He sighed. "Look, just do the best that you can. She's a huge international star and she has a certain number of... idiosyncrasies and one of them is being looked in the eye."

"But just by women, right?"

"That's right." He gave them an apologetic look. "Now this one is going to seem a bit strange, but—"

"Oh, this one is strange?" Jillian shot back sarcastically.

"Okay, yeah, thank you Jillian." He sneered. "Let's just get through this."