Blue Roses (Baker Street Romance #1)(11)
Author: Mimi Strong

I look around us, at the big trailers, catering truck, and filming equipment.

He said he would take me to a movie, and he did. We’re on a film set.

I pull off my helmet and run my fingers through my wavy hair.

He ruffles up his hair as well. Damn. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. No wonder people ride bikes.

“Are we allowed to be here?” I ask, glancing over at the elaborate filming setup that’s taken over the block.

“We’re invited,” he says. “I’m renting them some bikes from my collection. They said to come by tonight and watch. We don’t have to stay long if you’re not having fun.”

“Are you kidding? This is awesome.”

He offers me his elbow again, and we walk toward the action, stepping over thick cables criss-crossing the ground.

Luca finds some people he knows, and they set us up with some folding chairs, right near the action. We watch as the crew sets up a shot, taking a hundred measurements and notes, and then a bell rings and they’re filming.

The scene is a guy picking up a girl at her house, then driving away on a motorbike that looks almost exactly like the one we rode here on.

Luca turns to me, his blue eyes looking pale grey in the artificial light. “I was really hoping for a kiss.”

I lean over and kiss him, right on the lips.

He pulls away, looking surprised. “I meant in the shot they’re filming. It’s an action-romance movie.”

I cover my mouth with my fingertips, mortified.

He grins. “If I’d known getting a kiss from you was so easy, I would have asked sooner.”

“Oh, Luca.” I shake my head, still so embarrassed.

Someone with a headset approaches us with takeout cups. There’s one coffee, and one tea. After the girl walks away, Luca takes the tea from my hands and sets it down on the ground, on the other side of his chair.

He slides over toward me on his chair, so his h*ps and legs are in contact with mine.

“You cold?” he asks, his chest rumbling.

“Not bad. I’m glad I wore a sweater.”

He wraps one long arm around my shoulders. He’s not wearing a jacket, so the heat of his arm comes through his shirt and warms my shoulders.

He reaches up with his free hand and softly strokes my jaw. I almost can’t believe he’s touching me, but he is.

I tilt my head up to face him. He leans down slowly, his eyelids lowering. I close my eyes, and he kisses me.

Bells are ringing. It’s the sound they make on set, either when the filming starts or ends—I can’t remember.

He kisses me, and every kind of bell I’ve ever heard goes off.

His lips are full, and envelop my lips. I’m hesitant, until he coaxes my lips into movement. Once I start, there’s no holding back. His gorgeous lips feel as good as they look.

His hand moves away from my chin and down to my bare leg. He squeezes the spot above my knee, then slides up one heavenly inch.

My lips part, and his tongue greets mine. Our tongues are shy at first, like two kids meeting on a playground. We take tentative licks and bumps, then move on to playful tongue wrestling.

His hand slides up my leg, one more inch. My whole body is thrumming, like it did when I stepped off the bike.

More bells are ringing.

His hand lifts off my leg and cups my breast.

I suck in my breath and pull away from the kiss.

He quickly pulls his hand away and mutters an apology, shaking his head. “Too much for the second date,” he says.

We both look around. It feels like every single one of the dozens of cast and crew on the set is looking at us. I’m sure it’s only three or four people, but it feels like all of them.

He leans away from me, picks up the beverage containers, and hands me one.

I sip my drink and pretend to be really interested in what the lighting technician is doing.

My head is light, and my whole body is reeling from that kiss. Can this whole evening really be happening? It’s like a dream, and I don’t want to wake up.

I take a few sips of my tea and enjoy the confusion and magic of this post-kiss moment.

I’m half-way through the cup when I realize it’s not tea.

I lean over and whisper, “Luca, I think I’m drinking your coffee.”

We trade cups, laughing over the fact neither of us notice sooner.

“I thought the coffee was just really weak,” he says.

“And I thought they brewed my tea using a goat’s backside.”

He chuckles. “You’re not a coffee fan.”

“Is that supposed to be good coffee?”

He takes a sip and looks thoughtful. “I don’t know. You’ve ruined me forever. All I can taste is your lips.”

“I’m sure the feeling will pass.”

He gazes down at my mouth. “I don’t want it to.”

I angle my body away from him, aware of all the people around us. They seem bored with the slow setup between filming takes, and happy to watch me and Luca for entertainment.

“Let me finish my tea before it gets cold,” I say.

“I can’t drink this coffee if you think it tastes like a goat’s backside. You won’t kiss me again if I do.”

“It was nice enough on your lips.”

He grabs my cup, and dumps both the tea and the coffee on the grass next to us.

“Problem solved,” he says, and he pulls me into another kiss.

I try to complain about my tea, but his lips smother my words.

I give in to the moment, not caring who’s watching.

His kisses are incredible.

Hours pass pleasantly.

After two hours of making out and watching the filming, Luca drives me back home.

We’ve kissed so much, my lips are actually the tiniest bit sore.

I hold on tight on the way home, savoring the feeling of him wrapped in my arms. I don’t want the ride to end, but it does.

We kiss goodnight in front of the main house, standing on the lawn.

“Luca, I had a wonderful time, but I’m not going to invite you in.”

He looks over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to go in anyway. Your family’s nice, but nosy. Your sister’s watching us from the window.”

I turn and wave at Megan. She waves back, and doesn’t leave the window.

I shake my head. “Sorry about that. She’s probably making popcorn for the second half.”

“There’s a second half?”

I stand up on my toes and reach up to his neck, pulling him down to me.

He kisses me eagerly, running his fingers through my hair. My curls mean my hair isn’t the easiest for a guy to run his fingers through, so he moves to my back.