Free Redemption by Kathryn Barrett Page B

that again.” Then her voice dropped to its normal tone. “My stupid heel caught on the edge of the carpet.”
    “You were out of camera range. I saw it. But we’ll do it again anyway for close-ups.” He turned to one of the production assistants hovering nearby. “Heather, get that carpet taped down. We don’t want any accidents.”
    Laura leaned against a marble column and looked around. “This place is fantastic, isn’t it?” she said, taking in the opulence. “And the men’s department—that fireplace is amazing. Are we going to have it lit for our scene there?”
    “Sure are,” he said, watching the camera operators return their equipment to the original positions. “And we’ve already alerted the fire department—and supplied the folks upstairs with plenty of aspirin. I imagine the thought of us playing with matches in their flagship store is giving them headaches.”
    Laura eyed him with interest. “I heard you had to do some pretty fancy negotiating to even get us in here.”
    He shrugged. “I think they had the idea we’d wreck the place.” He watched a member of the crew carefully place duct tape on the underside of the carpet—probably worth thousands, he figured, hoping the fears he mocked didn’t come true. He could just imagine the glee with which Claire would bill them for the damage.
    Laura laughed. “They must have thought we were filming a sequel to Jungle Fever…‘Retail Hell. ’” She threw out an arm in a dramatic gesture, barely missing a nearby display of hats. “I can see it now: You have a shootout with the bad guys on the escalators, then lunge over the cosmetic counter just in time to save me from the evil perfume spritzer.”
    Matt chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Write the screenplay. Maybe it could be a sequel to Lyin’ Hearts .” Then he noticed that Mimi, the assistant photographer, had moved the close-up camera in place. “Places,” he called, then walked over to peer through the camera’s viewfinder. “Perfect. Cue the extras. Heather, we want quiet on the set. Sound—you’re on.”
    Mimi snapped the electronic clapboard to begin the next take.
    It was seven a.m. when they finished the scene. They had spent over nine hours setting up and filming for what would probably be less than five minutes screen time. It was a crucial five minutes, however. It established Laura’s character as a young woman of discriminating tastes and the wealth to back them up.
    Laura was nothing like her character. And though Matt was enjoying her company, he felt no romantic stirrings for her. In fact, if he had had to choose a little sister, she would have been his first choice. Laura, too, seemed to look at him more as a friend and adviser than a potential shower partner.
    As he walked back to his makeshift dressing room on the third floor, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from skipping back to another young actress, who had once looked at him with similar trust. But that innocent admiration had quickly erupted into more, flaring up into a fierce passion that still gave off a thin wave of heat, even after ten years. No other woman had ever affected him like that, so instantly and completely.
    As the elevator doors opened, he wiped a hand over his face, disgusted with himself. It was useless feeling lust for a girl who no longer existed. All traces of Clarissa had been wiped out and replaced by the stern executive upstairs. At least, he thought they had. Somewhere underneath those tailored business suits and the prissy coiffure, was there a passionate woman itching to get out?
    He smiled at the thought, though a part of him wanted to head for her office and shake the starch right out of her. The sane part of him, the part that had learned long ago not to follow those wild impulses, warned him not to. One film had already been shelved because he couldn’t keep his hands off Claire Porter, and he wasn’t about to risk this one.
    Besides, he was thirty-six years old, too old to