Within This Frame (2 page)

Maggie offered a shy smile as she stopped beside him and he nodded before turning his gaze away. He caught the fall of her smile, felt guilty about it, and told himself to quit being a wimp.

“Where are you two supposed to be? Not where you are,” Herman answered himself, motioning for them to move. “Outside. Let’s take this outside.”

The first scene was to take place at Cecilia Monroe’s house. Due to his parents divorcing, Derek Ryan recently moved to the area and was her neighbor. In a twist on the customary guardianship placement, he lived with his dad instead of his mom. Used to being popular and well-known in a small town, he was relocated to a city where no one knew him.

Cecilia befriended him over the summer and Derek thought she was cool, until school started and he realized how uncool she was. The basis of the show was forged in an unlikely friendship that transformed into love as the years went on, if the show made it that long. Each episode had a conflict and resolution, most of them cheesy to Lance, but like the show writers cared about his opinion. Maggie Smiley also was not his first choice as love interest for the show—not even second or third.

He walked toward the front door and out it. Lance’s skin was instantly saturated with sweat, the humidity in the air making it hard to breathe. Virginia in the summer was unbearable at times. He squinted against the sun, wishing he had the day off. He’d be at the beach playing volleyball and hanging out with his friends, checking out chicks—what any normal teenage guy would be doing on a hot summer day. Any normal teenage guy that wasn’t an actor, he corrected.

“Makeup girl! You! Yes, you. Freshen up the kiddies. They have sweat. Remove the sweat,” the director hollered.

The faint scent of oranges reached him and Lance glanced over his shoulder. Maggie, dressed in a turquoise sundress, stood behind him. Her skin was as pale as snow, lips kissed with pink. She looked like a summer picture, nothing about her needing a touchup. Jackie Miller, in her early twenties and hot for him, blotted Maggie’s skin anyway.

With a coy smile, she did the same to him, but slower. Jackie winked at him when their gazes clashed. She wasn’t the first older woman to hit on him. He’d lost his virginity to a nineteen-year-old close to a year ago. Because of his body, muscle tone, and deep voice, people thought he was older than he was. And when they found out his real age, it didn’t make a difference.

“Stop fondling the minor, Jackie,” Herman said dryly. One thing could be said for Herman Lyle—he said what he wanted and didn’t care what anyone thought. That might have something to do with his two disorderly conduct misdemeanors and six-month stint on probation.

With a droop to her shoulders and a blush on her cheeks, Jackie hurried back toward the masses of people necessary to put a television show together. They were faces instead of people to Lance. A few of them stood out to him—like Jackie—but most of them did their jobs and held no interest for him, unless he directly had to interact with them.

“Positions!”

Maggie swept by him, close enough that her citrus scent messed with his senses for a second and a long strand of reddish-brown hair caressed his arm. His body tightened and he blew out a noisy breath, shaking his head. Lance avoided looking at her as he took his spot near the crew workers.

An excited buzz started, bringing with it a hum of tension, but when Herman shot his beady brown eyes at the ones conversing, it got quiet quick.

Herman knelt before Maggie, probably talking in what he thought was a quiet, reassuring voice that was actually loud and commanding. “Remember, Cecilia, this is a leisure day for you. Think peaceful. You’re happy it’s summer, you’re enjoying the sun. The book you’re reading is poetic and captivating. You’re not simpleminded, but you’re easily pleased. You see Lance and you want to extend that to him, especially with how troubled he looks. Got all that?”

He waited until she nodded before standing with a groan as his back popped.

A hush fell, even traffic on the street seemed to pause, and with a frown, Lance lifted his head to gaze at Maggie. He went still and silent as well. It was aweing to watch the transformation take place. Maggie’s expression softened, her eyes widened, and a faint slackness of her mouth turned her small lips fuller, but also gave her a young, innocent look.

Looking at her was like looking at a picture out of focus. Surreal.

When Maggie lifted her head, she wasn’t Maggie Smiley anymore. She was Cecilia Monroe. He was enthralled by her talent, how she could change her whole demeanor with a few small changes to her facial expression and stance. In that moment, Lance fell a little in love with her.

Herman wordlessly motioned Lance forward when he forgot to move.

Derek Ryan was easy for Lance to portray because he was a lot like him, even down to living with his dad instead of his mom. Lance’s parents had never been married and his mom died from a drug overdose when he was two, but there were other similarities. Derek was popular and good at sports. So was Lance. Derek was cocky. Lance had been called that, and worse, a time or two. “Little shit” was usually added to the “cocky” part. Derek was good-looking. Lance winked at Maggie as he strode toward her. He’d never been called anything less.

Her eyes dipped to the pages of the book she held, but he saw her chest rise and fall faster than it had before the wink. Luckily no one else noticed or he’d get chewed out for messing with her before a final read-through. Judith Fletcher was especially protective of the Iowa native staying in Virginia.

“Hey.” He stopped by her feet, noting the peach shade of polish on her toenails.

Lost in the book, she didn’t respond.

Lance looked up and down the street before returning his gaze to her. Irritation lining his features, he repeated, “Hey!”

Maggie’s character was supposed to be surprised and she pulled it off beautifully when she jolted to her feet, dropping the book in the process. Her skin turned pink. Flustered, she reached down for the book and swooped it into her arms to hold against her chest like a talisman to ward off impure advances.

“Hey. Hi. Hello.” She chewed on her lower lip and tried to smile. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” he shot back. Lance’s character was angry at the world, but especially at his father for relocating them. He decided to be angry at the unknown girl too, just because she was near him and seemed easy to intimidate.

“Cecilia Monroe. I live here.”

“I gathered that. Derek Ryan. My dad and I are moving in next door.” He jerked his head in the direction of their pretend house. “He says you have the key.”

Her mouth pursed. “No. I don’t have a key.”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “Are your parents home?”

Looking confused, she answered, “Yes. But I won’t have the key whether they’re home or not.”

A few chuckles rang out at how well Maggie played the clueless girl.

Exasperation interlaced his words as he said, “Look, we have a U-Haul out back full of stuff and my dad’s waiting for me to bring him the key. The landlord said someone at this house is supposed to know where it is. Can you see if either of your parents have it?”

“Sure.” Maggie turned and walked up to the door.

Once there, she whirled around to face him, the bottom of her dress slowly following the motion of her hips. The look on her face grabbed Lance’s throat and squeezed. Hope was etched into her raised eyebrows, shyness reddened her cheeks, and the way her eyes sparkled with friendliness made it hard for him to swallow.

It’s not real. It’s just an act. This girl is a character. Cecilia Monroe does not exist.

“Would you like to come in? I made cookies and lemonade this morning. There’s nothing better than cookies and lemonade on a day like today.”

Lance’s eyes dropped. In his interpretation of Derek, his mom used to make cookies every Sunday and he’d have a tall glass of milk with the treat. His dad would steal a few and go back to work on his novel in the den. It was also a frequent scene Lance imagined in his version of a perfect world. The unnecessary kindness a stranger showed a jaded boy unraveled something tight inside Derek.

He looked up and offered a small smile. “I’d like that.”

“Acceptable!” was the immediate shout from Herman. He hurried to Lance and clapped his shoulder, bringing the scent of onions and garlic with him. “Not bad, Denton. Maggie, you were brilliant.” He divided his gaze between the teenagers. “Think you can do it again, but better, and with the camera rolling? Of course you can! Let’s go!”

Maggie caught his eye roll and smiled. “He’s ferocious, isn’t he?”

“Like a pit bull,” Lance agreed.

MAGGIE—2010

T
HE DOORBELL RANG
in three quick successions.

Maggie sprang into a sitting position and wildly eyed her surroundings before she realized what was going on: she had been asleep, in her bed, until some jerk decided to wake her up. She put a hand to her matted hair, brushing wayward strands from her eyes, and heaved herself from the bed. Grabbing the robe from the settee, she slid her arms through the sleeves and knotted the tie at her waist.

A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was seven in the morning. With a groan, she clomped down the stairs to the foyer. A normal day got her out of bed around eight, sometimes nine. Seven in the morning was a number she rarely saw on the clock.

“This better be important,” Maggie mumbled to herself as she swung open the door.

She met dark blue eyes and a taunting smile, felt her heart explode in her chest, and immediately slammed the door shut. Maggie then spun around to rest her back against it so she didn’t crumple to the floor. She knew those eyes, that mouth. She’d been intimately acquainted with the man to whom they belonged. It had been years since she’d seen him in person, but he hadn’t changed that much. If anything, he looked better, which was unfair.

Maggie splayed her palms against the cool wood of the door and counted to thirty as she told herself to not freak out. She hallucinated him. He wasn’t really there. Too much late night sugar was getting to not only her body, but her head as well.

It was time to stop that shit.

The doorbell rang again. Maggie covered her face and groaned. He was really there. Her chest was tight and each lungful of air she sucked in was painful. Lifting a hand, Maggie stared at the way it trembled. She had on no makeup, her hair was a nest. She weighed a lot more than the last time she’d seen him and she had on a pink and yellow cat-print robe.

When she didn’t budge, the knocks began. Firm, consistent thumps that sounded every ten seconds.

Why is he here? He has no reason to be here. Ever.

Just get it over with. Let him laugh and say whatever it is he has to say, and then he’ll go away.

Fear bunched her stomach in knots, told her she was deluding herself. Well, why not? She was good at it.

Maggie took the doorknob within her hand and carefully turned it, hoping he would magically be gone once the door was fully opened. She could deal with insanity, but Lance Denton, not so much. She looked up and deflated against the doorframe. He was still there, still smiling, still too good-looking. His gaze was piercing, locked on her in a way that made her insides twist.

“Why are you here?” Maggie considered herself a nice person, normally, but if anyone could change that with their presence, it was the guy who stood on her doorstep.

“You asked for me.”

She snorted. “Pretty sure you’re the last person I would ask for.”

“Wasn’t I?” His tone went quietly seductive, laser eyes zapping her with their heat.

Maggie tried to swallow and found that function no longer available to her. His eyes traveled up and down her frame, mockery clear in them as they stopped on hers. Lance’s facial features were sharper than she recalled, and the stubble along his jaw was new as well. She knew he was judging her appearance, him with his super fit body and her with her unfit one. Well, she was judging too. Sadly, she couldn’t come up with any needed improvements on his end.

“Why are you here? Remember that time, long, long ago, when we decided we wouldn’t see each other again?”

He cocked his dark head and looked deep in thought. “Was that what we decided? I thought it was you deciding you despised the very air I breathed, and couldn’t stand the thought of sharing such a thing with me anymore.”

“Well, I couldn’t maim you, so the logical alternative was to never see you again,” she said sweetly. Fire scorched her veins and heated her skin. The last time Maggie had seen Lance, she’d told him she hated him and never wanted to speak to him again.

“Oh, but you did,” Lance whispered, seeming closer and yet not moving an inch.

“Did . . . what?” she choked, reeling from the fact that Lance Denton stood before her, looking at her, talking to her. Being.

“Maim me—right here, right where it counts the most.” He patted his chest, expression mocking even as his eyes were indecipherable.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt it.”

The somberness cleared from his face and amusement simultaneously put stars in his eyes and lightened them. “You would.”

“Fun time is over. You came, you saw, you laughed. Now go.” She pointed a finger over his shoulder and hoped he’d move in the direction it faced.

“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

“Not really.”

Instead of leaving, he straightened and posed in a way that showed off his toned upper half through the yellow shirt he wore. “You probably already know this, but along with being superbly talented as an actor and model, I’m a trained fitness expert, personal trainer, and nutritionist.”

He flexed a bicep and looked from it to her face. He rotated his shoulders, showed her his profile, and winked. “Your sister’s gym called me yesterday and told me you were in need of someone of my expertise.”

Maggie’s throat went dry, and then her mouth, and then her eyes.

“Obviously I can’t refuse a cry for help from Cecilia Monroe. What would fans think of Derek Ryan if I did?” He stopped preening long enough to look at her in a way that meant she should understand what he was saying.