bedroom scene wasn’t such a big deal.
Luckily The Love Child was a light-hearted romantic comedy and the bedroom scenes weren’t too steamy. There was no full nudity, just a lot of provocative kissing and canoodling between her and Cal, who played the part of Jonathan, her partner.
‘But you’re just acting a part,’ Kirsten told her reflection sternly. ‘You’re Helen, not Kirsten, you don’t even look like Kirsten any more.’
It was true that after her session in Hair and Make-up she did look different. Her hair was loose and wilder than usual; it tumbled in a riot of glossy waves over her shoulders. She was wearing a lot of make-up that had been skilfully applied to give her a natural, fresh-faced look, covering the fact that she hadn’t slept well last night. And the sexily provocative full-length blue negligee was something that Kirsten would never have chosen to wear in a million years; it was far too revealing.
‘You can do this,’ she told herself again. The words rang hollowly inside her.
What on earth was the matter with her? she wondered. She had done a bedroom scene in a TV drama last year and hadn’t thought twice about it. But then she had been acting alongside Jason Giles and Jason was a good friend. He’d made her laugh on set and it had all been very relaxed.
She thought about Jason fondly for a moment. They’d first met at a party in Hollywood when she and Cal had still been together. Then by coincidence they had been working on the same show on Broadway in New York and the same TV drama last year. His friendship had helped her through some difficult times in her life. She still saw him regularly; in fact, they were going to a première together at the weekend.
What she needed to do was think about this bedroom scene in the same relaxed way as the one with Jason last year. Why was she finding it so difficult to get into her character?
A picture of Cal’s teasing grin and blue eyes rose in her mind and she felt suddenly sick with nerves again.
Maybe some meditation would help, she thought desperately. Chloe swore by meditation, and she had shown Kirsten how to use it as a method of unwinding.
She glanced at her watch. She had ten minutes before she needed to be on set. Quickly she sat down on the floor and crossed her legs in the lotus position, then, putting her thumb and forefinger together, she closed her eyes and tried to focus her mind and slow her breathing.
That was how Cal found her ten minutes later, sitting in the cramped, confined space between the dressing table and the clothes rails, humming softly under her breath. It was obvious she hadn’t heard him enter the room because she didn’t move or open her eyes.
He took the opportunity to watch her unobserved for a few seconds. She looked very young, probably about twenty-two or-three, yet he knew for a fact that she was thirty-one. She also looked incredibly sexy in the blue negligee. It dipped very provocatively over the full, creamy curve of her breasts and showed the slender lines of her body to perfection.
For a moment he found himself remembering when Kirsten had been his wife. Remembering her warmth and her passion and the hot nights when they had lain entwined in each other’s arms, desire and need raging out of control.
He moved further into the room and her eyes flicked wide open in shocked surprise. ‘What are you doing in here?’ she demanded angrily. ‘How dare you come in without knocking?’
‘I did knock and I thought I heard you say come in.’
‘Well, I didn’t!’ Her eyes moved over him. He was wearing a dark suit that sat well on his broad shoulders and he looked disturbingly handsome, too handsome for any woman’s peace of mind.
But, as her grandma in Yorkshire would have said, handsome is as handsome does…or something along those lines. She tried to keep that fact in mind as she met his amused gaze.
‘If you don’t mind my asking, what the heck are you doing down there on the floor?’ he drawled laconically.
‘I was meditating. Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘I see.’ His lips twitched in amusement. ‘Is it some new acting technique?’
‘It’s to help me relax,’ she said tightly. ‘What do you want, Cal? Or have you just come in here to insult me?’ She ignored his helping hand as she got to her feet.
‘I’d never insult you, Kirsten,’ he said softly, his eye drifting down over the curves of her figure.
Conscious suddenly of her scanty attire, she reached for the silk dressing gown that matched her nightdress and threw it on.
‘I just wanted to ask if you’re OK with this sex scene we’re going to do this morning?’
‘Sex scene?’ She gathered the robe around herself like a shield, and at the same time she felt her throat tighten in alarm. ‘It isn’t a sex scene, Cal.’
‘We are about to get into bed together and your body is going to be pressed tightly against mine as we kiss…amongst other things.’ His voice lowered huskily, his eyes sparked with humour. ‘So what would you like me to call it?’
She tried not to blush or look in the slightest bit uncomfortable. ‘What do you mean…amongst what other things?’ she asked and despite her best efforts she knew she sounded rattled. ‘It’s a bedroom scene, Cal; sorry to disappoint you, but there’s no sex in the film at all.’
‘Isn’t there?’ He frowned. ‘That’s disappointing. And it’s not what our esteemed director Theodore Tradaski was telling me a few moments ago.’
Kirsten tried to remain calm. He was just winding her up. ‘It’s one kiss, Cal, and I shall have to grit my teeth in order to bear even that much.’
To Kirsten’s consternation, Cal didn’t seem to be put out by her words. ‘Good! I like a challenge to my acting skills. We’ll see how long you manage to resist my charms, then, shall we?’
‘What does that mean?’ Her eyes narrowed warily.
‘I think you know what it means,’ he murmured. ‘You pretend to grit your teeth and hate me and I’ll do what I was always good at and turn you on.’
‘You are insufferable sometimes, do you know that?’ she told him heatedly, trying not to look as mortified by his crass remarks as she felt.
‘Only sometimes?’ he asked in mock disappointment.
Someone knocked on the door behind him. ‘A bouquet of flowers has arrived for you, Kirsten,’ a voice called cheerfully.
Cal turned and stepped out of the door. One of the stage-hands was outside; she was practically hidden behind an enormous bouquet of red roses.
‘Oh, Mr McCormick, I didn’t realise you were in here,’ she gushed, her voice filled with a kind of reverence that made Kirsten feel nauseous.
‘It’s OK, I was just leaving.’ Cal’s eyes flicked over the bouquet. ‘Who are the flowers from?’ he asked casually.
Much to Kirsten’s consternation, the woman opened the card that accompanied the flowers. ‘They’re from Jason Giles.’ she told him eagerly. ‘The message reads…’
Kirsten started to move to take the flowers away from her but she wasn’t quick enough.
‘…“Break a leg, Kirsty, I know you’ll be terrific. I look forward to our date on Saturday at the première.”’ The woman smiled up at Cal. ‘Oh, and he’s put some little kisses on the bottom.’
‘Excuse me!’ Kirsten whipped the bouquet from the stunned woman’s hands. ‘That’s a private card!’
‘Oh, sorry!’ The woman pulled a face and then caught Cal’s eye and blushed and grinned at him in a conspiring way.
As the woman bustled back down the corridor—probably to tell the whole of the set what was written on her flowers, Kirsten thought in annoyance—Cal