Wicked Heart (18 page)

“Yeah. I should.” I open the door for him and he steps onto the landing before turning back to me. “You know, apart from the last part, I really enjoyed tonight.”

I lean on the door. “Me, too. I think for our first venture as sort-of friends, it went well.”

“It did. Except for your dancing. at sucked.” He smiles and moves a bit closer. “See you at rehearsal Monday.”

He touches my shoulder and runs his hand down to my wrist. I try to keep my expression neutral, but I think my eyelids flutter. “See you then.”

On a whim, I move forward and hug him. He freezes for a moment, then tightens his arms and sighs. When our bodies press fully against each other, the contact makes me gasp.

Liam’s hard.

Very hard.

He must realize I notice, because he quickly pulls back. “Shit. Sorry. My . . . uh . . . body hasn’t gotten the memo about us being friends yet. Mind you, you’re not helping
matters by wearing that dress. Give a guy a break, Liss.” He runs his hands through his hair and exhales. “Okay. Now
I’m
blushing. Good night.”

After he disappears down the stairs, I close the door behind him and lean back on it. Josh comes out of his bedroom and heads into the kitchen. He’s wearing his favorite Captain Kirk
pajamas. He grabs a bag of frozen peas from the fridge and comes over to swap them for the barely cold ice pack in my hands.

He gives me a smug look. “You gave him a boner, didn’t you?”

I press the peas to my hip and hobble toward my room. “Good night, Joshua.”

“Okay, fine. My ‘told you so’ can wait until morning. Oops. Look at that. Seems it can’t.”

I smile as I shut my bedroom door and op onto the bed. My hip may be aching, but I’m kind of thrilled I can still make Liam Quinn’s body dance to my short, curvy-girl tune.

Monday morning, I have a killer bruise on my hip and a slight limp, but other than that, I have no lasting damage from Saturday night. Well, apart from the memory of
Liam’s erection pressing into my stomach.

“Morning, sweet friend,” Angel says, as she comes over and hugs me. “Present for you.” She lays a copy of
Dancing for Dummies
wrapped in a big red bow on the
production desk.

I give her a deadpan look. “I hate you.”

“Impossible. I’m adorable.” She laughs and heads off to prepare for rehearsal.

Beside me, Josh sighs in frustration. “Screw her and her perfect sense of humor.” He points to his computer. “By the way, have you seen this?”

I lean down and examine the screen. It’s a gossip site, and they have dozens of pictures of all of us leaving the restaurant Saturday night. Of course, the main focus is the series of
shots of Liam shoving people aside, his face contorted and angry. I roll my eyes at the headline—
DOES THIS
RAGEHEART
STAR NEED ANGER MANAGEMENT?
—and the accompanying article: “Tough guy Liam Quinn allegedly assaulted innocent bystanders while out and about with friends on Saturday night.
At this stage, it’s not certain if charges will be brought.”

Just then Liam enters the room. When he sees me, he gives me a quick wave, then goes and sits down. He seems on edge as he pulls out his script and bends over it in concentration. When the
camera crew comes over to film him, he shoos them away, then goes back to squinting at the page in front of him.

Huh. I’ve never seen him with his script before. He tugs on his hair in agitation, and I wonder if it’s because his picture is splashed all over the Internet. Or maybe he’s
still embarrassed about our exchange at the door on Saturday night. Perhaps both?

When we start rehearsal, it becomes even clearer he’s distracted. Angel enters for their first exchange, and he messes up nearly every line. After a few failed attempts, he sighs in
frustration. “Shit. Sorry, Marco.”

“It’s all right, Mr. Quinn,” Marco says. “Elissa, please remind Liam of his next speech.”

I read Petruchio’s lines from my script. “You lie, in faith for you are call’d plain Kate. And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst. But Kate, the prettiest Kate in
Christendom. Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate. For dainties are all Kates—”

“Stop,” Liam says, and holds up his hand. “Just slow down for a second. What comes after, ‘And bonny Kate’?”

I reread the line. He shakes his head and sighs. “Again.”

I repeat it. He says it back.

When we restart the scene, he nails it, but everything grinds to a halt again after Angel gives him his next cue.

She walks over and cradles his face. “You okay? You look flushed.”

Liam’s takes her hands and squeezes them. “Just having a bad day, that’s all. I’ll be right back.”

He pulls away from her and takes off his mic pack. Then he points to the camera crew and says, “Stay,” before he strides out of the room.

Okay, what the hell is going on? I’ve never seen Liam so unprepared.

“Damage control, please, Elissa,” Marco whispers. “I’ll stay here and work with Angel. Find out what’s going on and fix it. The last thing we need right now is to
fall behind schedule. Our backers are coming next week, and I want them to feel confident our stars are worth their exorbitant fees.”

“On it.” I head off to find Liam. I check the conference room first, but it’s empty. When I hear banging coming from the men’s bathroom, I open the door to find Liam
standing over a destroyed trash can.

“So, did it attack you first and you were just acting in self-defense, or—”

“Sorry. I’ll replace it.”

“No need. That trash can’s an asshole. We’re all better o without it.”

He runs his hand through his hair. I can tell he’s trying to calm himself down, but right now, he looks as though he’d like nothing more than to beat the crap out of another
inanimate object. Everything in his posture screams of tension and barely controlled aggression.

“Liam, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“We both know that’s not true. You’re blowing lines right and left, and that’s not like you.”

He leans back against the wall and drops his head back. “I didn’t get as much time to prepare for this week’s rehearsals as I would have liked. I don’t know the
lines.”

I step into the bathroom and close the door behind me. “Well, you should have said something. I’m sure Marco will let you hold your script.”

“I can’t use the script.” I don’t miss how his hands are curled into fists.

“Are you really that averse to using your glasses? It would only be for a few days.”

“No, Elissa. It’s not about glasses. I can’t—” He pushes away from the wall and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I have to tell you this.”

A shiver runs up my spine. “Liam, you’re . . . You don’t need glasses, do you?”

He pulls in a shaky breath. “I’m dyslexic. Severely. I can make out a few words here and there, but it takes forever. All the words swim and blur in front of my eyes.”

I take a moment to process it. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Like I wanted you to know I’m a dumb-ass.”

“Oh, please. You’re one of the most intelligent men I know.”

“And yet, I can’t read a menu at a restaurant without hurting my brain.” I can see how much he hates admitting it. “Outside of my family, only my agent and my assistant
know. And now you.”

“Angel doesn’t know?” He shakes his head. “Liam, she’s going to be your wife. She loves you. Telling her isn’t going to change that.”

“She’ll treat me differently. Everyone who knows does. They don’t mean to, but they do.”

“I won’t.”

“You say that now, but give it time.”

“How have you managed to hide it all these years?”

“The glasses excuse is gold; usually, no one thinks to question it. When I first started acting, Mom would run lines with me. Or record them so I could learn them in my own time. When
Anthony Kent signed me, I figured he should know. He immediately lined me up with David, my assistant. He’s been with me on all the movies.”

“How on earth do you learn a whole movie’s worth of words?”

“Easy. On a movie set, we only ever get a few pages of dialogue each day. But in theater . . .” He leans against the vanity. “You guys expected me to have the whole play
learned by the time I got here. Do you know how many freaking lines Petruchio has? And Shakespeare isn’t exactly the easiest stuff to remember. I thought I was doing pretty well staying ahead
of the schedule. Then on the weekend, David’s dad had a heart attack back in England.”

“Oh, no . . .”

“His dad survived, but he’s in the hospital. Of course, I put David on the first plane home. I’ve been trying to learn today’s scenes by myself, but . . .” He kicks
the remnants of the trash can, which flies across the room and slams into the wall. “I have to reread everything five times, and even then, I don’t know if I have it right.”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”

He sighs. “You can’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Liam, having dyslexia is nothing to be ashamed of.”

He stares at a spot on the wall, and I hate how down on himself he seems. “You don’t understand what it’s like to not be able to do something most six-year-olds can. How stupid
it makes me feel. This is why I took so long to try my hand at acting. I knew it would be a major obstacle.”

“Well, Tom Cruise has done okay over the years, and he’s hugely dyslexic.”

That gets me an eye roll. “Yeah, but he also believes people are inhabited by the souls of dead aliens. Please don’t hold him up as a role model.”

My mind races. In all my years of professional theater, I’ve never come up against something like this. Still, I’m all about finding solutions, so that’s what I’ll
do.

“Okay, tell me how I can help you.”

He rubs his forehead. “I don’t know. Go over the lines with me, maybe. We’re only doing one page of that scene, and then we’re going to go over some scenes from last
week. If I can make it through this morning I’ll be okay, for today at least.”

I look at my watch. “How long will it take you to learn the lines?”

“A whole page? Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Be right back.”

I race to the rehearsal room and grab my script from the production desk. Josh is there making notes on the scene Marco is running with Angel.

“Hey, what’s up? Is Liam okay?”

“He just needs to run some lines. Tell Marco we’ll be back soon.”

I rush down the corridor to the men’s room and find Liam waiting.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do this.”

Exactly twelve minutes later, Liam and I walk back into the rehearsal room, and even though Marco raises an eyebrow at me, he doesn’t ask what’s going on.

I help Liam reattach his mic pack. Within seconds his camera crew is hovering.

Angel walks over and puts a hand on Liam’s arm. “Everything okay?”

He gives her a warm smile. “Fine. Not enough sleep. Just needed a little refresher on the lines.”

“That’s not like you.”

“I know. It’s fine. Elissa helped me out.”

“Okay, then,” Marco says, “let’s try it from the top of this scene.”

Liam shoots me a nervous look. I hope he can pull this off. He learned the lines in record time, but I worry about his retention. Twelve minutes to learn a page of Shakespearean prose is no easy
task.

Marco calls for quiet, then says, “Begin when you’re ready.”

They start the scene, and I’m relieved to see it’s a huge improvement over their earlier attempt. Not only is Liam on point with his lines, but Angel’s time with Marco has also
yielded results. She’s learning how to imbue Kate with enough vulnerability to match her bitterness, and the chemistry she and Liam create is palpable.

It’s the first meeting between Kate and Petruchio, and the way Marco has directed it makes all of the verbal barbs and insults seem like wordy foreplay.

“If I be waspish, best beware my sting,” Angel says, assessing Liam like he’s something to eat.

Liam moves toward her, slow and seductive. “My remedy is then to pluck it out.”

“Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.” Angel’s voice becomes breathy.

“Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.” He winds his arms around Angel and unapologetically strokes her butt.

Angel looks like she’s about to orgasm. “In his
tongue
.”

“Whose tongue?” The way he’s looking at her is making me hot. In my pants.

Angel looks like she’s feeling the same. “Yours, if you talk of tails. And so farewell.”

She attempts to break away, but Liam traps her hands behind her back. Angel lets out a quiet moan.

Liam smiles at how he affects her. “What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate. I am a gentleman.”

My tongue in your tail?
My God, Shakespeare was a perv.

Liam leans down and holds his mouth just above Angel’s. Everyone in the room holds their breath.

Angel battles with her composure for a few more seconds before she stands on her toes to kiss him. Liam moans and releases her hands as he kisses her back.

My face flames when they move against each other, kissing and grasping. My feelings vacillate between extreme arousal and violent jealousy. It’s not pleasant.

Then Angel breaks away and slaps Liam, hard. “
That
I’ll try.”

He smiles in triumph. She goes to hit him again but he grabs her arms roughly. “I swear I’ll cuff you, if you strike again.” His tone is dark but promises more pleasure than
pain. Angel looks even more turned on than he does.

“Yes, good, Liam,” Marco says beside me. “Now, cross downstage left, and take her with you. Don’t be gentle. Remember, the more forceful you are with her, the more it
arouses her. She likes to be dominated.”

Liam glances at me, and I avert my gaze to my script. I take in a shaky breath and write down the stage directions.

When Liam ends the scene by throwing Angel over his shoulder and soundly smacking her butt, Marco says, “Okay, stop there. Excellent work! That’s coming along nicely. This scene
needs just the right balance of lust and violence to set up the first BDSM interpretation this show has ever received. I can’t believe no one has ever explored the possibility that the reason
Kate provokes
Petruchio
so much is that she’s desperate for a good spanking. Or that
Petruchio
morphs from a jovial hood into an alpha male because he’s at last met
someone who wants to be dominated by him. It seems so obvious.”