...Mick didn’t want to think of Spencer going down. He was too smart, too talented, too driven to travel that path. Mick silently vowed to do everything in his power to prevent it from happening, and ignored any implications as to why he felt that way in the first place.

“Be grateful,” he said. “Sometimes, good things happen to good people for no other reason than luck. I’m not questioning how lucky I am Octavia thought of me when she read your script. We should just accept that, for once, the stars aligned themselves up perfectly for a change, and aimed us at each other until our lives colliding was the only remaining option.”

All his little speech did was focus Spencer even more on him. Heat welled in the other man’s eyes, glowing bright in the obsidian depths until Mick’s flesh was forced to respond. He’d thought Spencer attractive from the start, but when Spencer looked at him like that, like nothing else in the world existed but Mick, the game changed. His nerves came alive. The urge to reach out and do more than touch swelled to almost overwhelming proportions. His traitorous cock forgot his personal credo never to get involved with someone in a current project, regardless of how many hours they spent together or how close they might get. He didn’t need to sit in this man’s house, eat this man’s food, with a raging hard-on he refused to do anything about, even if he thought Spencer might actually be interested. Spencer deserved more respect than that.

Too bad it was all lip service. Rational thought meant absolutely nothing under that penetrating gaze.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you want or need me in your shadow,” Spencer said.

“And I told you. You’re not looking at it from my perspective. You’re right this is a first for me. Which means I’m terrified as hell at failing. Having you around is a crutch, Spence. If I don’t like something, I have somebody to work with to fix it. Somebody who knows this play better than I ever could. Somebody who has the same vision I do.” He chuckled. “So maybe, yeah, I do have an ulterior motive in asking for your direct assistance with this. I don’t want to fall flat on my face. But that’s as sinister as I get. Trust me on that.”

When Spencer glanced at the production book, the bonds holding Mick in place eased, if only for the seconds Spencer set him free. “We did seem to work together pretty well on the callback list,” he mused.

“We did.” Mick latched onto the acknowledgment and ran with it. “That’s the vision I’m talking about. We see Dead Man’s Curve the same. I knew it when I read it. So all you have to do is trust what we’re doing here, and let the rest of it go. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the play.”

He could practically hear Spencer repeating the words in his head. Did the man realize his face was an open book? Mick was surprised Octavia hadn’t commented on it. But he saw the exact second Spencer decided to accept Mick’s argument, the most minute shifting in his muscles, a line smoothing in his jaw. His hand slowed and then stilled, resting lightly on the table instead of mapping every hard surface atop it.

He even smiled.

Mick could get used to that smile.

“I hope I don’t drive you insane by the time we open,” Spencer said. “Though I’m starting to think I might drive myself crazy before that happens.”

“I won’t let it.”

“You might not have a choice.”

Mick shook his head. “We always have a choice. If I teach you anything before this run is over, that’ll be it.”

Spencer’s gaze slid back, softer than before, no less breathtaking. “I’d bet there’s a lot you can teach me.”

And vice versa. But there was no way Mick dared to utter that sentiment aloud.