Once in a Blue Moon by Kristin James Read Free Book Online Page B

every day I forget how incredible-looking you really are.”
    To her chagrin, Isabelle felt a blush creeping up her neck into her face. She rolled her eyes. “It’s the hairstyle and the dress.”
    “Yeah, right.” Vivian laughed. “I wish I had that hairstyle and dress.”
    Isabelle couldn’t help turning her eyes toward the condo set, where Michael sat, waiting, his script in his hand as if he’d been going over his lines one last time. But he was not looking at the script. He was looking straight at Isabelle. His eyes flickered down her body for a fraction of a second, then returned. She lifted her chin and walked, stony-faced, to the set.
    “Isabelle,” Lyle Gordon, the director, said in greeting and came over to join them. “You look great.” His eyes skimmed over her in a professional, asexual way. “Perfect. Okay, let’s block and run through it quickly. It’s a pretty simple scene—just you two.”
    Isabelle nodded, trying to keep her attention on him. Her gaze kept wandering traitorously toward Michael, and her nerves were jumping like live wires. She had to get herself under control. She could not let Michael see how nervous doing this scene with him made her. She concentrated on pulling herself into her character. It was difficult to do today; all her acting skills seemed suddenly to have deserted her.
    “Okay,” Lyle went on. “Now, Jessica is furious because Mark has decided to go work in the medical mission in San Pedro. She’s sure it’s all Curtis’s fault. But, of course, being Jessica, she hides that anger and is going to try to get even with Curtis, as well as cancel his influence with Mark. So, Isabelle, remember to let some of the anger peek through now and then.”
    “I will.” Anger, she thought, would not be the hard part.
    They walked through the scene, blocking it, setting marks for the camera angles. Then they ran through it once, rehearsing it. Isabelle was edgy and stiff. Even though rehearsal didn’t require pulling out all the acting stops, she felt as though she were merely stumbling through it. She couldn’t seem to get hold of her character.
    Michael was standing very close to her. Isabelle looked up at him, very aware of the shape of his mouth, the faint, thin grooves that bracketed the corners of his lips, the way his eyelashes shadowed and darkened his eyes. She forgot her next line.
    She backed up slightly, and Lyle barked, “No, no, no. Don’t turn away from him there, Izzy. You’ve got to pin him with those magnificent eyes. Like you could just suck him right in. Cassie, give her the line.”
    Isabelle nodded. Cassie Shumway, one of the assistant directors, prompted her, and she plunged in again. They made it through the rest of their lines. Then they moved back to their original positions to start it all over again, this time with the camera rolling.
    Isabelle was miserably aware of the fact that she was not in control of the character. She did not feel as she usually did when she acted. Rather, she felt as if she were outside herself, moving somehow by remote control. She was sure that Michael must sense her nervousness. She hoped that he didn’t guess why. It was absurd for a mature, experienced actress to be so nervous at the thought of an on-screen kiss. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t real! She was behaving like someone in junior high drama class, she told herself.
    The thought served to stiffen Isabelle’s spine. She was not going to let Michael Traynor upset her so that she couldn’t do her job! She turned away, drew a deep breath and focused on the scene and her character.
    When she turned back, Jessica’s smolderingly sensual expression was on her face, her eyes huge and glittering, her mouth slightly pouting. When Lyle said, “Places,” she took her position at the window of her apartment. The cameras began to roll. Isabelle looked around the living room, fluffing up a pillow on the couch, making sure the wine and glasses were ready,