Not in this lifetime. Kendall shook her head so rapidly her vision blurred. “No. No, no, and no. No denim shorts. No shorts. No tube top. I’ll wear the stilettos but that’s it.”
Evan came up beside her, a pastry in his hand, wearing sexy jeans and a black ribbed tank top. “You’re wearing nothing but shoes? That will sell a lot of deodorant.”
Kendall shoved Trevor’s primping hands away from her hair and jumped up out of the chair. She couldn’t sit still for another minute. “Very funny. I’ll wear jeans. And a cute top, but not a tube top. Forget it.”
“Why are you telling me? I’m not in charge of this gig. Nice hair, by the way. I think I had a poster on my bedroom wall of a chick with hair like that when I was thirteen.”
Glaring at him, she yanked the pastry from his hands and took an oversized bite, closing her eyes as the icing melted on her tongue. Sugar made it better.
“I don’t think you need any more sugar,” Frankie said, strolling into the room looking very chic and modern and completely unslutty, unlike Kendall. “You’re already hopped up on Red Bull.”
“I am not. Frankie, tell the powers that be that I’m not wearing a tube top in this commercial.”
“Of course you’re not wearing a tube top.” Frankie looked at her like she was clinically insane. “Carl would birth a cow if you did that.”
Kendall turned to Trevor. “Were you yanking my chain?”
“I was told tube top.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Very Dukes of Hazzard.”
“No tube top.” Feeling a little weird and off-kilter, Kendall threw her arms back and forth and sang, “No tube top for me, you’ll see.”
Evan grinned. “You need a nap.”
“What I need is another Red Bull.” She snapped her fingers in the air in a diva imitation. “And another pastry, but I just want the icing this time.”
She really felt strange, like she was having a bit of an out of body experience. It made her bolder than she probably would have been ordinarily, though maybe a touch less professional. “Trevor, you’ve got to tone down the hair. People are going to think they hired an actress to play me.”
“No big hair?” Evan asked. “I kind of like it.”
“Even more reason to get rid of it.”
Evan waved another pastry in front of her. Where the hell was he getting those from? Kendall really wanted one. He held it right in front of her mouth, tipping it so that the icing touched her lip and clung there. Kendall licked it off, watching his eyes darken.
“Just as long as you don’t get rid of me,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you in cherry pastries indefinitely.”
Kendall couldn’t think of a retort. Couldn’t think to tell him how totally inappropriate he was being in a semipublic situation. Wasn’t sure what he even meant. Was he talking sex or something more? Her Red Bull brain couldn’t handle the puzzle.
All she could think as she sucked the remaining sugar off her bottom lip was that the taste of Evan and a cherry pastry on her tongue would make for a very happy day.
EVAN knew he was taking advantage of Kendall’s lack of sleep and overconsumption of caffeine. She was acting downright loopy, and he had to admit it was amusing to watch her. He had a feeling if he nailed one of her feet to the floor, she would just run in a circle. With her big hair. The hairstylist had tamed it a little, but it still had a volume Evan had never seen outside of beauty pageants on TV. In the late eighties.
“Okay, so what I need you to do is to lean on the car, ankles crossed, looking sexy,” the director told Evan.
He could try to do that. He did feel a little self-conscious. Posing sexy wasn’t natural. You just did sexy when you were attracted to someone. Which was why he was glad Kendall was in the studio with him. It made playing the part a lot easier when he had her to look at.
Leaning on the car—which was a generic Untamed deodorant car—Evan tried to relax and get in the mood the director wanted.
Kendall was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet across the set, making popping sounds with her lips. They had compromised on her outfit. She was wearing jeans, heels, and a tank top, but she had a racing jacket on over it. It was full coverage everywhere, yet it was smoking hot. It was a lot of tight and a lot of tease.
“Now Kendall, you’re just going to walk up to Evan and deliver your line. Okay?”
Kendall nodded, cracking all her knuckles loudly.
This was going to be interesting. Evan tried to stay loose, watching Kendall as she strolled across the set, which was supposed to be a parking lot. “Hey, there,” she said, then stopped in front of him, her face scrunching up.
Oh, God, she was going to laugh. Evan bit his own lip and narrowed his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” She turned to the director. “I just looked at Evan and I forgot the line.”
“Cut.”
They repeated the process, only this time Kendall tripped halfway. She burst out laughing, and Evan did, too.
The third time, she got all the way through her lines. “Hey, there,” she said, her voice a low and sultry purr. “If you’re going to be in The Chase, you need to be . . . Untamed.”
At which point Evan laughed. He couldn’t help it. The whole thing was so cheesy. Kendall was right. It was like a seventies p**n o. If this were an adult film, she would be going down on him on the hood of the car after delivering that lame line.
Of course, she had gone down on him on the hood of a car. But not for cameras, and not after that ridiculous line.
“Cut.” The director sighed.
They tried it eight more times, until Evan’s butt was numb from leaning on the car.
“Take five,” the director said, running his hand across his shaved head. “God, this is not going well.”
“I’m sorry,” Kendall said.
“Don’t apologize,” Evan told her in a low voice. “This is stupid. We just need better lines. Like, ‘Hey. Don’t be a stinky chick. Wear Untamed.’ ”
Kendall tried to pat her big hair down flatter. “No kidding. Or something like ‘Own it. Wear it.’ You know, straight to the point.”
“When it’s hotter than a crotch outside, wear Untamed.”
She nodded enthusiastically, her laughter ringing out in the studio. “When you’re sweating like a whore in church, wear Untamed.”
Evan grinned. “Good call.”