“Of course,” he teased. “Jonathan make you an assistant director yet?”

I nudged his stomach lightly for picking on me. “No. Denny has, though. They put me in charge of kicking your ass when you get out of line.”

Ryan smirked, sparked by my challenge. He bumped me, knocking me off balance, but I quickly recovered and bumped him right back. His long fingers cinched around my upper arms as he glared down at me, his eyes half-lidded and challenging. “You think you’re tough enough?”

I swallowed hard, turned on by his show of dominance. “Absolutely. I know all of your weaknesses.”

His eyes darkened and he took my neck in a gentle but possessive clutch, instantly igniting a warmth inside me. “Yeah?” he growled, biting his lower lip, daring me to defy him. “You think? Little do you know, you’re my greatest weakness. But don’t get any ideas. Remember, I’ve had my hands and mouth on every inch of your body. I know how to take you down—quickly.”

Oh how I wished we were somewhere private where he could make good on his threat.

“Promise?” I whispered, drawn to watching his lips twitch, thrilled that we had this effect on each other.

“As soon as I’m done here, I’m going to prove it to you,” he breathed out.

Was that a simple statement or a vow?

“I look forward to it,” I replied, feeling stunned and out of breath.

“I’m so hard right now,” he told me, toggling his gaze between my lips and my eyes.

One quick glance at his crotch and I could see he was being truthful.

“I wish I could fix that for you.” Thoughts of using my hand, my mouth, rendering him helpless and moaning, danced in my mind. “But I think you’re going to have to hold that thought.” I tossed my chin in Denny’s direction.

Ryan breathed out a curse and turned his frame slightly, readjusting the erection in his pants as nonchalantly as possible. It was hard not to laugh at his predicament.

“Stop it,” he groaned.

“Apparently wake-up sex wasn’t enough for you?” I teased.

He glared down at me in utter exasperation. “Four or five times a day might be enough for me. Keep that in mind, future wife of mine.”

A giggle erupted from my mouth. “As much as I’d like to take you up on your challenge, right now I think we need to get you refocused. So . . . Chase. What did the police say?”

Ryan groaned. “Taryn, I know my lines.”

“Okay.” No need to warn me twice. I turned my attention to watching crew members setting up a very large screen several yards away. Where are they going to put that huge green screen now? That looks like a pain to move.

Ryan sighed. “Nothing. They don’t have any new leads.”

I glanced back at him. “Hmm?”

“My lines? My next line is ‘Nothing. They don’t have any new leads.’”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

Watching Ryan’s new set assistant try to figure out which pocket to shove her walkie-talkie in while tripping over power cords was quite entertaining. She looks young and upset about something. The shimmery blue streak of color in her black hair is kinda cool.

Ryan cleared his throat. “I hate when you pretend to ignore me. Well? Are we going to do this or not?”

The sudden bad feeling about this not being a good idea hit me. “I’m not ignoring you. Maybe you should rehearse with Nicole. I don’t want to upset anything.”

Ryan didn’t agree. “We have ten minutes and she’s still in makeup. Do you have a copy of the sides?”

I pulled my copy of the scene dialogue from my back pocket.

“You’re standing on her mark. Ready?”

“Sure.” I took two pretend steps to land on the X. “Chase, what did the police say?”

“Nothing. They don’t have any new leads. Reed won’t turn over my dad’s client list without a court order. I sort—”

“Wait . . . is that how you are going to do it for real?” Even though he recited from memory, he rushed and stumbled through it.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed on me. “Yeah, I guess. Why? What was wrong with it?”

“Are you just telling me your lines or are we doing this full-on like we normally do when we run lines at home?”

He crossed his arms, taking a defensive pose.

“Don’t get mad,” I said. “You just . . . I don’t know. You just sort of barked your lines at me. I thought Chase is supposed to be frustrated and more depressed. Well, that’s how I interpreted it anyway.”

“Sorry, you got me a bit distracted. I’m horny and I’m pissed that I can’t do anything about it right now.”

“Margaret Thatcher in a thong.” My attempt to redirect him with Austin Powers movie humor wasn’t well received.

He gave me “the glare.” I knew that glare very well.

“Tell you what. If you promise to nail this scene, I promise I’ll let you nail me in your trailer right afterward. How does that sound?”

That got him to smile. “Bribery, Ms. Mitchell? And what’s this garbage that you’ll let me . . .”

“Uh-uh. That’s the deal. You have to make sacrifices for your craft.”

He groaned.

“Multimillion-dollar actor, big mega-million movie? Ringing any bells?”

His jaw clenched. “I’m going to nail you hard later, just so you know. It may hurt, too. Make your teeth rattle.”

I planted a foot, loving his feistiness. “You nail this scene in the first two takes and I’ll add in a bonus prize.”

His eyebrows rose, intrigued.

“But first you have to act your butt off.”

“You drive a hard bargain. All right, shit. Let’s try it again.” Ryan shook out his arms. “Ready?”

I took a deep breath, pulling myself into that mind-set I do when we practice in private, and recited my lines again.

Ryan pretended to glance back at the building, rubbing his stomach where the bullets from earlier in the story had supposedly entered his body, and hunching from imaginary pain. “They brought one of my dad’s associates in for questioning, but it didn’t turn up any new leads.”

“Did you tell them about the van that followed you the other day?”

Ryan’s lips pressed tightly together and he shook his head.

“What about the address you found on your dad’s cell?”

“No,” he answered abruptly, looking away. “I didn’t bother.”

“Why not?” I said, demanding an answer. If someone killed my pretend parents, I’d be hounding the police for every minuscule detail.

Ryan turned his gaze back to me, giving me that “I really have no valid excuse so I’m just going to stand here and huff at you for a few seconds” look. “Because . . . I went there and it’s nothing, another dead end. Apparently I’m just wasting my time. Chasing ghosts,” he mumbled.

Ryan appeared to be genuinely sad. I remembered this part of the script very well, for this was Chase and Emily’s first fight, out on the sidewalk in front of the police station.

I disagreed, imploring him to give more information. “What about the bullet casing? Surely they have some results—”

“They have nothing, Em. Nothing!” Ryan said harshly. “Just forget about it, all right? No prints. No leads. Nothing. So just drop it! I’m done.”

I pushed on, lightly grabbing his arm when he turned. “So that’s it? Just like that, you’re going to give up?”

Ryan glared at me. “What do you want me to do? Go back in there and force them to do their job? It’s not that simple.”

“But . . .”

“But nothing!” Ryan’s hand sliced the air, halting my reply. “Detective Bennett told me to stay out of it. I’m not supposed to be alive, Emily! Remember? Whoever broke into my house and put eight bullets in my family intended for me to die that day, too. There weren’t supposed to be witnesses.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I should have,” Ryan snapped back, letting the role of Chase completely take over his emotions. It was a beautiful thing to witness, and I was so there with him. God. Losing both of your parents. I knew exactly how that felt.

“Is that what you want? To waste the precious gift you were given by wishing you were dead? Is that why you pulled that ridiculous stunt trying to free-climb that crack out on Viper’s Pass, figuring if bullets didn’t do the job that free-falling three hundred feet would?”