be anxious, Rose?” he asked again, this time with his mouth a hair’s breadth away from my ear.
“B-because I’m not sure where we stand.”
“We stand where we always have,” he replied. “Side by side.”
His words made my breath catch, and in the next second he bent to take my earlobe between his lips and suck. It took all my strength not to moan and arouse the attention of the driver. I shifted in place as Damon’s hand moved further up my thigh. I’d been starved for his touch, and now that it was happening I felt almost drugged on it. I twisted and buried my face in his neck. He let out a low, humming sound like he approved. I was just about to lift my head to kiss him when the car stopped and the driver announced we’d arrived.
My legs felt wobbly as Damon helped me from the car, so turned on I could barely see straight. The next half hour was a whirlwind of activity as we were welcomed into the studio and Damon was briefed on how the interview would run. All the while he kept his hand on my lower back, or on my elbow. At one point he even laced our fingers together, and I swore my heart flew right up to the ceiling in elation.
I was allowed to watch the interview through the glass windows of the studio. Damon sat on a chair across from the host as the audio was piped through speakers in the room I occupied.
Right off the bat, I knew the interviewer wasn’t going to give him an easy time. The show allowed callers to phone in at the end and ask questions, so who knew what sort of stuff Damon was going to be faced with. Sure, he’d claimed in the car he wasn’t nervous, but I felt nervous for him. I didn’t want anyone asking him things that were too personal, like the stuff that had happened with his dad.
“So, you’re doing Moulin Rouge, what’s that like?” the interviewer, whose name was Troy Livingston, asked tartly. I could already tell he considered himself a funny guy, as well as edgy and post-modern. His voice held a hint of sarcasm, which got my back up. Damon, however, seemed to take it all in stride.
“It’s a bit like having an acid trip in a turn-of-the-century boudoir while there’s a burlesque show going on upstairs,” he deadpanned, and Tony laughed. I exhaled in relief that he’d decided to go along with the tone rather than getting pissed. In fact, as I watched him sitting there, I noticed a difference in him. He seemed more at ease with himself, almost like when we were in Skye. I hadn’t seen him this relaxed or confident around strangers before.
“Sounds like a party I’d like to attend. But, not to sound rude, we’re all wondering if you can hold a tune. I think I can speak for everyone when I say nobody wants to suffer another Russell Crowe ‘Javert.’”
“Are you asking me to sing?” Damon asked with a wry expression.
“If you want to belt out a few lines, I won’t stop you,” said Troy.
Damon chuckled, the low, husky sound incredibly sexy as it rumbled through the speakers. I shivered a little where I sat just beyond the glass window. “I think I’ll leave your listeners guessing. If they’re really curious, they can come and see the show.”
Ha! Nice save. I was sure Jacob would be thanking him for the sneaky plug.
“Well, maybe that’s for the best. People might start saying the only reason I do this job is so I can have grown men serenade me in the studio,” Troy joked.
“It’s not?” Damon asked dryly.
Troy only cast him an amused look before changing the subject.
“Ah, so here’s a good one,” he said, flicking through a few papers where seemingly a bunch of potential questions had been written down. “If you could star in the remake of any film, past or present, which one would you choose?”
Damon looked thoughtful for a moment. “If you’d asked me that a couple weeks ago, I probably would’ve said Nil By Mouth.”
“Excellent!” Troy enthused. “I take it you’re a Gary Oldman fan, then?”
“Oh, aye, huge fan.”
“Didn’t you star alongside him in that one film, the sci-fi thriller?”
Damon grimaced in self-deprecation. “I did. Admittedly, not my best work.”
“Ah, come now. I don’t think I can name a single successful actor who hasn’t been in their fair share of stinkers.”