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But Claire didn’t listen. She needed a break. She pushed past them through the French doors and stormed to her bathroom for some much-needed cold water.
For several seconds, Lana knelt on the lawn, frozen, and stared after Claire.
“Is she okay?” Michelle asked.
“I…I don’t know.” As her fiancée, she probably should know—and she should go after her. “Help yourself to the grapes and the cheese. We’ll be right back.” She jumped up and hurried after Claire.
The master bedroom was empty, but water splashed in the adjoining bathroom.
Lana pressed her ear to the door and listened for a second, then knocked softly. “Claire?”
The water was shut off, and the door swung open a few inches. Claire peeked out, her face wet and pale. She had removed her makeup, as if deciding that the photo shoot was over.
“You okay?” Lana asked.
“I’m fine.”
Lana leaned against the doorframe and studied her. “What was that?” She used her thumb to point in the direction of the backyard.
“That was our photographer having the dumbest idea ever.” Claire grabbed a towel and rubbed it over her face several times, not bothering to be gentle.
“You hate being tickled that much?” Lana asked quietly.
Claire lowered the towel slowly, as if she was hesitant to give up its cover. “I didn’t say that. It’s just… It was a weird feeling, being so…” She gestured helplessly.
“Out of control?”
When Claire neatly hung the towel on its holder and turned toward Lana, her eyes were a stormy gray. “Who’s playing psychologist now?”
A faint smile tugged on Lana’s lips. “Maybe living with you is rubbing off on me.”
Claire didn’t say anything, but her guarded expression gentled.
“Ready for more photos?” Lana asked.
“Ready.” Claire gave a decisive nod, as if she had to convince herself. “As soon as I reapply my makeup. Just no more tickling.”
Lana chuckled. “No more tickling, I promise. And forget about the makeup. Who wears that when they’re hanging out in the backyard, goofing around with their lover?” Not giving her time to object, she hooked her arm through Claire’s and pulled her back to the yard.
“Okay.” Michelle looked around the backyard as if searching for a promising photo op. “Why don’t you,” she pointed at Lana, “hop on there?”
Lana eyed the round granite table the photographer indicated. It looked sturdy enough to carry her weight, so she slid onto the table and dangled her legs.
Michelle snapped a photo. “You’re a natural. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
Lana flushed. It wasn’t too often that she got complimented by a hot butch. She’s got a fiancée, remember? And supposedly, so do you.
Right on cue, Claire cleared her throat behind them. “Where do you want me?”
“Come over here, facing Lana.” Michelle pulled her forward. “And step between her legs.”
Before either of them could blink, Michelle had them positioned with Claire standing in the V of Lana’s thighs.
“Great.” Michelle adjusted some setting on her camera. “Now hold that pose.”
Claire looked at Lana as wide-eyed as a field mouse who’d realized it had been spotted by a circling hawk. She shifted uncomfortably, which brought them even closer.
The soft clicking of the camera shutter interrupted the awkward silence. “Oh yeah. This is great,” Michelle murmured from behind her camera. “Keep looking at each other like that. Pretend nothing else in the world exists except the two of you. Now move even closer and part your lips, like you’re about to kiss.”
Lana stared into Claire’s wide, gray eyes. Clearly, she’d have to take the lead. You can do this. You’ve had to play intimate scenes with people you barely knew before. She leaned forward the tiniest bit until she could feel Claire’s breath bathing her face. A hint of lilacs and spring teased Lana’s nose as Claire came even closer. Heat seemed to flicker between them like waves rising from asphalt. They stared at each other with only inches of space between them. Lana found herself holding her breath.
“Okay, that was great,” Michelle said. “Let’s try a different pose. Lana, move your legs a little farther apart. Claire, lean closer, as if you’re about to bend and kiss her neck.”
“Jeez, did she have to pick this scenario that could be straight out of your sex-on-the-kitchen-table chapter?” Lana whispered.
A wrinkle formed between Claire’s brows. “It’s not a chapter on sex on the kitchen table,” she whispered back as she leaned closer, as instructed. With every word, her breath fanned over the sensitive skin on Lana’s neck.
Lana’s own breathing hitched, and heat spread from her neck to her toes. Okay, maybe it didn’t quite reach her toes. That heat went straight to her core. Oh hell. I’ve definitely been single for too long.
She tried to get a glimpse into Claire’s eyes. Was this affecting her too?
Claire’s irises were still a stormy gray, but Lana couldn’t tell if it was from their closeness or if she was still upset because of the tickle incident.
Michelle pressed the shutter release button again and again, circling around them for different angles. “Claire, can you put one hand on her hip?”
When Claire lifted her hand, her fingers bumped Lana’s knee. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”
Before Claire could jump back, Lana grabbed her bare elbow and held on. “It’s okay. I’m not going to break. Besides, it was the good knee.”
“Oh.” Claire blew out a breath, which sent goose bumps all over the skin of Lana’s neck, and placed her hand on Lana’s hip.
Through the fabric of Lana’s capris, Claire’s fingers felt much too cold for LA at the end of May.
“Good,” Michelle said. “Lana, can you try leaning back on your palms and tilting your head back?”
Lana decided to pretend she was on a set and followed the instructions of the person behind the camera. The movement thrust out her breasts, and she imagined she could hear the top button on her blouse groan as the fabric stretched to the max. Or maybe she was the one groaning as Claire’s hips pressed between her thighs. She dug her hands into the rough granite of the table, not sure if she wanted this photo op to end now or to last forever.
Finally, with one last click of the shutter, Michelle stepped back and lowered the camera. “That’s a wrap, as you movie people say.”
Claire pulled back fast, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from Lana. She busied herself picking blades of grass from her jeans.
Lana adjusted her blouse and checked the top button to make sure it had held.
Michelle studied them with a grin. “You two haven’t been together for very long, have you?”
Both of them froze and stopped adjusting their clothes. They exchanged a glance.
“Uh, no.” Lana stepped next to Claire and lightly bumped her hip. “Still in that honeymoon phase, right, sweetie?”
“Um, right.”
Michelle chuckled. “I could tell. Claire touched you so carefully like she was afraid to lose control and rip off your clothes in front of me.”
“What?” Claire sputtered, her face as red as if she was about to blow a fuse. “I have never—”
“Oh, honey, don’t be embarrassed because she saw right through us.” Lana wrapped one arm around her and squeezed hard to get her to play along.
“Yeah, okay, I admit it. Clothes ripping. Totally me,” Claire said with a straight face.
Lana struggled not to burst into laughter. Yeah, right.
Chapter 8
Claire clicked through the next few days in her digital planner. Maybe she should do what she had offered Abby: not fill the last slot of the day anymore so she could spend more time at home. If she and Lana wanted to be a
convincing couple, they had to get to know each other better.
Just as she was about to boot down her computer, a familiar chime announced an incoming email.
She clicked over to her email program.
Ooh. Michelle, the photographer, had already sent them the photos she’d taken yesterday.
Claire glanced at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes before her next appointment, so she downloaded the attachments and opened the first one.
Oh wow.
In the photo, Lana was sitting on the granite table, dangling her feet, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world. The May wind tousled her wavy hair. Her hazel eyes twinkled, and her sensual lips curved up into a smile.
Claire decided then and there that this photo would go on her desk. After regarding it for a few seconds longer, she clicked to the next picture.
Again, she couldn’t help staring. It was one of the tickling photos. Lana had her arms wrapped around her from behind, both of them bending forward at the waist, hair flying everywhere as they laughed hysterically.
Claire hadn’t believed that she’d ever think so, but maybe Mercedes had been right. They complemented each other well. It wasn’t just the visually appealing contrast between her own fair skin and Lana’s tan. The way her slim figure fit against Lana’s curves seemed…real.
Yeah, well. It was probably Photoshop.
She clicked to the third photo in the small collection that Michelle had pronounced the best ones.
It was the photo that Lana would undoubtedly dub the sex-on-the-kitchen-table picture, and admittedly, it looked a lot like that. Claire picked up a folder and fanned herself with it while she stared at the photo.
Lana had her head thrown back, baring the curve of her neck, and was arching up against Claire, who seemed to be pulling her closer with her hand on Lana’s hip. From the look on Lana’s face, Claire could have easily believed that she was a woman in love…or at least in lust.
She slowly exhaled. Guess she’s a better actress than I’ve given her credit for. She picked a couple of photos of them together—not the sex-on-the-kitchen-table one—and sent them to Mercedes so she could decide if she wanted to forward them to the publisher’s marketing department.
“Dr. Renshaw?”
The voice through the intercom made her flinch. She hastily closed the photo like a teenager being caught looking at porn. “Um, yes?”
“There’s a Lana Henderson on line one for you,” Tanya said through the intercom.
“That’s my girlfriend,” Claire said, pleased how smoothly that had come out of her mouth. “Whenever she calls and I’m not with a patient, please put her through directly to me.”
“Will do,” Tanya said. “I’ll put her through now.”
After a second, the line clicked. “Hi, Claire. Sorry to disturb you at work,” Lana’s voice came through the phone.
“No problem. I’m between patients.” Claire leaned back in her office chair. “Did you get the photos too?”
“Yes, I did—and I was right. Didn’t I tell you you’d look great in jeans?”
“Um, I guess.” Truth be told, Claire hadn’t paid attention to how she looked in the photos, other than that unfamiliar expression of unrestrained laughter on her face.
“I really should get you another pair for your birthday. Hey, when is your birthday?”
“October twenty-ninth,” Claire answered, then fell silent when she realized that by then, they would no longer be in contact. Their arrangement would end long before her birthday.
Lana was quiet for a while too. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Um, anyway, I called because Jill just texted me. She and Crash want to have dinner with us and a couple of friends sometime this week. Do you want to go, or should I make up some excuse?”
“Ask them if they’re free tonight.”
“Tonight?” Lana echoed.
“Yes. It can be our final rehearsal before the party tomorrow. If we can convince an actress that we’re a real couple, we might stand a chance of convincing eight therapists too.”
Lana gulped audibly but then gamely said, “Sounds like a plan.”
“See you tonight, then.”
“See you tonight.”
When they ended the call, Claire went into her calendar and blocked any six o’clock appointment that wasn’t already booked for the next two months, resisting the urge to click over to her download folder to look at the photos again.
Claire had stopped on her way home to pick up another pair of jeans. It wasn’t because Lana had commented on how good she looked in jeans, she told herself. Jill and Crash had both worn jeans when they’d been at her house, and she didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb among Lana’s friends; that was all.
“Is this okay?” she asked as she stepped out of her bedroom and gestured at her jeans and the short-sleeved emerald green blouse.
Lana looked up from the strappy sandals she’d just put on. She was wearing a cream-colored pair of capris and the burgundy blouse Claire had picked for the photo shoot. Thin leather strips crisscrossed over her sturdy calves, making her look like a Roman soldier—only sexier.
Sexier? Claire arched her brows at herself. Since when did she find full-figured women sexy? Apparently, she was growing into her role as Lana’s pretend fiancée too.
“Um…” Lana said.
“Not good?” Claire peered down at her outfit. She hadn’t spent so much time thinking about what to wear since she’d first started dating women.
“Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s great, but…” Lana tied off her sandal straps and came over to her. She reached up and pulled the silver clip from the back of Claire’s head, making Claire’s hair tumble down around her shoulders. “There. Now it’s perfect.”
Claire ran a hand through her slightly tangled strands. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay.” Claire took her car keys off their hook next to the door. “Then let’s go.”
“Wow, this looks really nice,” Claire said as Lana guided her toward the Glendale restaurant where they were meeting her friends.
Two palm trees flanked the entrance of the red brick building, and small tables were set discreet distances apart beneath striped awnings on the large outdoor patio. Soft music drifted over, and as they crossed the street, the aroma of grilled chicken and saffron rice wafted over, making Claire’s mouth water.
Lana laughed. “What? You thought I’d take you to some fast-food place or something?”
“No! It just looks a little…” Claire bit her lip. She couldn’t very well tell Lana that the restaurant seemed to be out of the price range of an out-of-work actress, could she?
“Out of my wallet’s league?” Lana said with a laugh. “Yes, it is. But it doesn’t matter because we’re never allowed to pay here. The restaurant belongs to Jill’s friend Laleh. Well, to her family, really.”
Claire was grateful that, thanks to her job, she was used to meeting new people.
As they approached the patio, Lana’s step faltered. “Um, should we hold hands?”
Claire paused and stared down at her hand. Why hadn’t that simple gesture occurred to her? Of course Lana’s friends would expect them to hold hands. “Good idea.”
After the sex-on-the-kitchen-table position the photographer had arranged them in, something as innocent as holding hands should have been easy, but for some reason Claire’s cheeks warmed as she reached out and clasped Lana’s hand. Somehow, the casual gesture felt very intimate.
Lana’s fingers were warm and soft and engulfed hers securely.
It felt so completely different from holding Abby’s hand that Claire could hardly believe it was the same sensation. Of course it feels different. Abby was the woman you wanted to marry. Lana is an actress you’re paying to pretend she’s in love with you.
Just hold her damn hand and stop overthinking.
As they stepped onto the patio, Lana’s friends waved from a table next to the wall, which was decorated with a mural of a scenic seascape. Jill, Crash, and a beautiful, slim woman with long, black hair rose and took turns hugging Lana so Claire had to let go of her hand.
Her fingers suddenly felt cold, and she rubbed them as she stood next to the table, shuffling her feet.
“Everyone, this is Claire Renshaw…my girlfriend.”
Lana’s hesitation had been so short that Claire hoped only she had noticed.
“Claire, this is my friend Laleh Samadi, and, of course, you already know Jill and Crash.”
Just when Claire was about to offer her hand, the black-haired beauty named Laleh gave her a short hug.
Wow. That wouldn’t have happened in Claire’s circle of friends, which, come to think of it, was mostly Abby’s circle of friends, so she had stayed clear of most of them since the breakup.
“Where’s Hope?” Lana asked as she and Claire sat next to each other, across the table from Jill and her girlfriend. She turned toward Claire and said, “Hope is Laleh’s partner.”
Laleh sighed. “She called to say she’ll be running late. There was a bad accident near the 101/405 interchange, so they had several patients rushed in just as she was about to leave.”
“Hope is an ER doctor at Griffith Memorial,” Jill explained, but Claire barely heard her. She was focused on Lana, who had gone pale beneath her tan.
Claire leaned toward her. “Hey, you okay?” she asked quietly.
Lana nodded, but her full lips formed a tight line.
“Oh God, Lana, I’m so sorry.” Laleh reached across the corner of the table to clasp Lana’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have mentioned…”
Everyone exchanged knowing looks, while Claire sat there, her gaze darting from one woman to the next. Why the heck was she the only one who didn’t have a clue what was up with Lana? She couldn’t even ask because they thought she was Lana’s girlfriend. Everyone looked at her, clearly expecting her to know what was going on—and to do something about it.