Louisa George - Hot Docs On Call - Hollywood Heartthrobs

Her phone was there, too, next to her script. The pages were held down with pebbles at the place where he’d stopped reading. The End.

All this had happened while she’d been asleep?

‘The more time I spend here the more impressed I am.’ He pulled out a chair and indicated for her to sit. ‘The dogs are fine. Asleep. Cameron’s busy. Sit down.’

‘You read my script?’ She sat. Heat burnt her cheeks. She might as well have been naked in front of him. Worse. What could be worse than laying open her naked self to him?

Ah, yes. Laying open her heart. That was something she didn’t want to do. Flirting and fun were one thing, but she didn’t need him to know about the clutch of her heart when she’d kissed him. She didn’t want him to know how much she admired him. Some things she had to keep to herself to protect her heart from the fallout.

He sat opposite her and was about to speak when the chef arrived with a tray of food. Lobster, crab, potatoes, fruit. An amazing array of delicious local delicacies. She turned down wine and stuck to water, not wanting to mix the painkillers with alcohol and befuddle her head even more.

After a couple of mouthfuls and uninhibited groans of delight at the fresh flavours, he put his knife and fork down.

‘So, yes, I did read your script.’ He was unabashed, as if reading her words hadn’t been like peering into her soul.

‘And?’

‘It’s excellent. Really, I think you should do something with it.’ He drank some rosé wine, took up his cutlery again. ‘But what do I know? I’m a doctor. You need an expert opinion, not mine. Show it to Cameron, she’s an expert on tap.’

Lola almost choked on her lobster. ‘I couldn’t do that. I’d rather die than press it on her and beg her to read it. Believe me, she wouldn’t anyway, she has far too much to do. She doesn’t even know I write.’

‘Well, she should. That story deserves a home. You’re right, it is surprisingly funny. Although I shouldn’t be surprised—it’s just an extension of you. With all the things you are—funny, smart, witty, brave.’

‘Wow. Thank you. Thank you so much.’ She felt a surge of confidence. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever believe it’s ready to go out into the big wide world.’

‘Email it to your dad.’

This time she felt the thuds in her heart go on and on at the mention of her dad. But she wasn’t going to have that conversation with Jake. ‘Yeah...maybe.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Pushy.’

His tone got serious. ‘What are you waiting for? You want a career in this? Yes? You’ve given up everything to come out here for this?’ He stabbed his finger at the paper on the table. ‘But you’re still at first base. You won’t get on if you don’t do things. You know the old saying—if you want something to work for you, you have to make it work. Right?’

‘Right.’ She was almost carried along with his enthusiasm. Sure, she was dedicated, ambitious, hard-working...but putting herself out there? There was too much at stake for her right now. He was talking about things he had no knowledge of. ‘Are you this demanding on everyone?’

‘Usually just myself.’

‘Why?’

He looked down at his food. ‘We work hard... Look, my parents didn’t have much, but they taught me that you can achieve anything if you’re prepared to put the hours in. Now, about that script...’

It didn’t escape her notice that he’d changed the subject back to her as soon as he could. Talking about his family clearly wasn’t a favourite thing of his. Well, snap to that. ‘Yes. Okay. I’ll get it out there as soon as I can.’

‘Send a copy to me too so I can take another look at the medical scenes. Soup them up a bit. You’re in a prime position to change your life, Lola.’

‘Yes, yes, I am.’ He was good at this—voicing the feelings she’d arrived with in LA. ‘Have you always been this in control of your own life? Planning world domination?’

He grinned. ‘Like I said, my career’s fine, thanks. Going right according to plan. No need to analyse that any further.’

‘So what do you do when you’re not working?’

‘Like that happens.’

‘You must do something. You can’t work all the time.’ At his shrug she realised he really, truly, probably did. ‘You don’t have hobbies?’

‘I work out. Hike. Surf, if I get a chance. Haven’t done that for a while. I’ve been building my practice—these things don’t just happen. I—well, I work, Lola. Although sometimes to the detriment of other things—I understand that. You have to make sacrifices.’ It was almost as if he’d just realised that he didn’t do anything else—as if the realisation was finally seeping into his brain, and what exactly that meant for his life. Then he smiled. ‘Oh, and I juggle, but that’s more for relaxation. Well, I used to—it’s been a while. Years, actually. Probably a decade, if I’m honest. So, okay, I admit I’m a sad case of a workaholic—I do all the things I tell my juniors not to do. But I have to work, no one’s going to carry me the rest of my life. Where I end up is up to me. No one else.’

And she wondered what he meant by that—but sensed he was reluctant to talk about it, so she tried to keep things light. ‘So you juggle, like with the oranges earlier? That’s a strange thing to do.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Unusual, yes. Strange—not so. It’s very therapeutic, especially if your brain’s stuck in one thing and you want to move on. I was part of a study when I was at med school. We were testing whether learning a new skill could promote white and grey matter growth in the brain. It does, by the way. It also helps you focus and relax, helps posture and co-ordination...and usually makes people smile.’

‘I might have known it would have some connection to work.’

‘Of course. Plus, it’s a great babe magnet.’

She laughed. ‘Why? How?’

‘That’s my secret.’

‘Tell me?’

‘No.’

‘Okay, then, teach me?’

‘Sure. Why not?’ Standing, he took hold of her arm and they went inside to the kitchen. He picked up two oranges from the fruit bowl, one in each hand, and threw them up in the air. She was mesmerised by the fluidity of his movements, the flex of his hands, the primed, yet relaxed stance. His smile. She was mesmerised by him.

He caught the oranges in one hand, held one out to her. ‘Start like this. Just up and down. That’s right. Now, try two. Throw from one hand to the other in an arc shape. Copy me.’

She did as she was told and copied him as he threw first one orange, then added in another so they crossed in mid throw. ‘Easy!’

‘Okay... Now try using your non-dominant hand. That’s the tricky bit.’

‘Oops.’ One orange landed on the floor in a splat.

He laughed. ‘Not quite ready for flames yet...’

‘You juggle with fire?’

‘I have. I can. Try it like this.’ He stood behind her and captured her between his arms, his hands cupping hers as they threw the oranges into the air. She leaned against him and he held her weight, his breath coming easily against her neck. She could feel the hard wall of his chest against her back, could smell his scent, and she suddenly felt more alive and more clear-headed than she had all day.

Arousal snaked up her spine, through her veins. Her heart began to beat faster. She wanted to turn around and press herself against him, to feel him naked against her. Her hands shook as she held the oranges. His words were in her ear, on her neck, in her hair. ‘Lola...your turn now, on your own. I’ll stay here ready to catch them if you drop them.’

‘I think I’m getting the hang...’ She didn’t finish. Couldn’t finish because his hands were in no place to catch any falling citrus fruit. They had circled her waist and he was turning her round.