Karen Foley - Overnight Sensation

“It’s Garrett Stokes.”

“Garrett—”

She broke off, and Garrett knew the exact instant she realized who he was.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed. “You’re him. The special-ops guy this movie is all about.”

Garrett allowed himself a wry smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

She’d had absolutely no clue who he was. He wasn’t surprised that she had no recollection of him. She’d definitely had bigger things on her mind than some injured soldier who’d shared hospital space with her brother. Nevertheless, he still found it disconcerting that in those few hours, she’d made a profound impact on his life, while he hadn’t even registered on her radar. He wouldn’t betray her brother’s trust by telling her that he’d been that soldier, since doing so would be equivalent to opening Pandora’s box. But a part of him still wanted to create a ripple in her world, make her as aware of him as he was of her.

She frowned. “I thought you were a technical consultant.”

He shrugged. “I am. Finn brought me aboard to ensure the film captures my covert-ops experiences as realistically as possible.”

Her face paled, and Garrett could tell she was remembering the gruesome torture scenes. He’d seen the storyboards and read the script. The screenwriter hadn’t spared the audience when he’d written those portions of the screenplay.

As quickly as the color had drained from her cheeks, it flooded back. “The scenes with the missionary—are they based on real life, as well?”

Garrett hesitated.

She was referring to the explicit, highly sensual love scenes. He fought briefly with his conscience, debating whether to tell her the truth. They were the one facet of the movie that didn’t conform to events as he’d experienced them. Finn had insisted on taking artistic license in portraying Helena Vanderveer as a beautiful young woman with a healthy libido and an instant attraction to the injured soldier who’d found his way to her mission.

In reality, Helena was a sturdy Dutch woman in her midsixties, with a strong spiritual calling and zero interest in any romantic entanglements. Furthermore, Garrett had been unconscious most of the time she’d cared for him. He had only hazy memories of her and their time together.

Finn had brushed all that aside, insisting a torrid love affair between the soldier and the missionary would heighten the film’s appeal. At his request, the writer had revised the script to depict the soldier as badly injured, but not to the extent that he couldn’t engage in some creative lovemaking with the attractive missionary. Never underestimate the healing powers of lust, Garrett thought wryly.

“Pretty much everything in the script is accurate,” he fibbed, boldly meeting Ivy’s eyes, “especially the scenes with Helena.”

“Oh.” She was silent as she digested his words, and the color in her cheeks deepened. “Well, I hope I can do your…relationship…justice.”

Garrett kept his face carefully impassive. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if you’re not getting it right.”

Her eyes grew big. “You’re not—you’re not actually going to be on the set while we shoot those scenes…are you?”

Garrett heard the horror in her voice, and only barely suppressed a grin. “You bet.”

“Why?” She sounded desperate.

“Just in case you need any pointers,” he responded guilelessly. “It’s my job to make certain every scene is shot as realistically as possible.”

“Why would I need pointers from you?”

“Because every woman responds differently to a man’s touch,” Garrett replied, allowing his gaze to drift over Ivy’s body. “And despite the fact that you’re shooting the scenes with Eric Terrell, you’ll have to respond as if you’re with me. ”

He left her standing wide-eyed and mute in the doorway of her bedroom. But as he turned away, he saw with satisfaction the beginnings of something else in her dark eyes, and he smiled.

That something was awareness.

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