“Your family lives in New York?” he asked, more curious about her than he should be.

The elevator arrived and the doors whooshed open. They both stepped in, and she leaned a shoulder on the elevator wall.

“Yup. And since I’m here, I’m expected to visit my parents, siblings, nephews, aunts, uncles, cousins, etcetera.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Why the hell is my family so damn big?”

“I was just visiting my father in Puerto Rico,” he said, even though he definitely hadn’t been planning to tell her that.

“Really?” Her expression softened. “How was it?”

“Great.” The elevator dinged and stopped at her floor. If they were on TV, it would malfunction, trapping them in together and then . . . what? The doors slid open. He’d never know.

Jasmine straightened and Ashton pressed a hand to the frame to hold it open for her. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Right. We have the intimacy coordinator meeting before we start filming episode three.”

Episode three. The one with the kiss.

Maybe Jasmine was also thinking about the upcoming kiss, because she bit her lower lip and ducked her head, like she was suddenly embarrassed to look at him. “Um, good night.”

“Buenas noches,” he murmured as she brushed past him, leaving a sweet citrusy scent in her wake. He held the elevator open, watching her as she walked down the hall. When she looked back over her shoulder at him, he let go. The doors shut, blocking his view of her.

Chapter 9

Jasmine had a hard time falling asleep after her encounter with Ashton in the elevator, but she’d eventually managed to nod off, and only hit snooze twice the next morning when her alarm blared. Curse Ronnie and her Sunday night open bar.

At the party, she’d filled in Ava and Michelle on Ashton’s behavior, and they’d assured her she should not take his reclusive behavior personally. Ava had even looked up some Spanish-language gossip sites, which all confirmed Ashton’s rep for being easy to work with but kind of a diva.

While Jasmine couldn’t deny his acting ability, his disappearing acts were annoying. But when she did manage to catch him—like in the elevator and after he’d spilled coffee on her—he seemed normal. Down to earth, a little awkward, sweetly endearing. And sexy as hell. Whatever cologne he wore was really doing it for her, and she didn’t even like men’s cologne.

Worse, while their performances were fine, she was convinced they could bring even more to the characters if he would just freaking talk to her for more than two minutes.

Before they got to the kissing scene, Jasmine and Ashton were instructed to attend a meeting with the episode’s director, Ilba Montez, and the intimacy coordinator, Vera Parks. Marquita Arroyo, the showrunner, was also in attendance.

Since they hadn’t hit wardrobe yet, Jasmine wore cutoff shorts and a white T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Ashton was dressed in faded jeans that made his legs look a million miles long and a beige guayabera shirt, like the kind Jasmine’s grandfathers wore.

Ashton had no right to look so sexy in an old man’s shirt, but he apparently hadn’t gotten that memo.

The five of them gathered in a small conference room, sipping coffees from to-go cups.

Vera wasn’t what Jasmine expected. For one thing, she was young. Younger than Jasmine, anyway, maybe midtwenties. She had straight dark hair, a creamy complexion, and striking green eyes. She was dressed in olive cargo pants and a double layer of distressed tank tops. But when Jasmine met her gaze, she was struck by the intensity she saw there. When Vera looked at her, it was with her full attention. Her smile was warm and genuine, and Jasmine instantly felt at ease with her.

“Hi, Jasmine,” Vera said, shaking her hand. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

Despite the early hour and Jasmine’s worries about Ashton, she felt herself relaxing. “Thanks, Vera. I’m excited to work together.”

Vera went to say hello to Ashton, and Ilba Montez took her place in front of Jasmine.

Ilba was a petite woman, around fifty, with luminous brown skin, big brown eyes, and a ready laugh. Her wavy black hair was cut short and she dressed casually in jeans and a Doctor Who T-shirt.

“My wife and I loved you on The Glamour Squad,” Ilba confessed when she introduced herself. “I’m a big fan of soaps. Such creative storytelling techniques. I hope they make a comeback.”

“Me too,” Jasmine said with a laugh, but Ilba shook her head.

“Nah, this show is going to catapult you. Just watch.” She winked, and they took their seats around the table.

Only Vera remained standing, with her hands resting on the back of her chair.

“Welcome, everyone.” She flashed a grin around the room. “Thanks for bringing me in. I’ve read the scripts, and I’m excited to assist with this production. Have any of you worked with an intimacy coordinator before?”

Jasmine would have thought the question was aimed at her and Ashton, but Ilba and Marquita responded too. Marquita was the only one who answered yes.

Vera nodded like she wasn’t surprised. “It’s a newer part of production, although it shouldn’t be. To give some background, it’s a role that started in theater, and is now being used more in TV and film. How about stage combat? Do either of you have experience with that?”

Both Jasmine and Ashton murmured their assent. Jasmine had filmed a few “catfights” while working in soaps. She’d also taken some fight choreography classes in drama school and, more recently, before auditioning for a couple of superhero roles. She’d been passed over for them, but she was holding out hope.

“So you know the importance of choreographing close movements for maximum safety,” Vera continued. “My goal as an intimacy coordinator is to make sure the performers, directors, and crew are all on the same page, and that clear consent is being given at all stages.”

Well, this was a welcome change. Jasmine couldn’t remember ever having been asked if she explicitly consented to something—or didn’t—while filming.

“One of the first things we have to do is determine the context,” Vera went on. “By that I mean, why is this scene here? Does it make sense for the story and characters?”

“The last thing we want is to put the actors in uncomfortable situations for scenes that don’t serve the story,” Marquita agreed.

Vera turned to Ashton. “Ashton, why do you think this episode needs an intimate moment between the characters?”

Jasmine watched him from the corner of her eye. Oh, she couldn’t wait to hear his answer to this.

COÑO. ASHTON SWALLOWED hard as all the women in the room turned to look at him. “Ah . . . you mean the . . . kissing?”

What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like Yadiel, who gagged every time people kissed in movies, even animated ones.

Vera’s smile was patient, but he got the feeling she’d caught his embarrassment at saying the word kissing. “Yes, Carmen and Victor share a very passionate kiss in this episode. Do you think it’s necessary for the story?”

Ashton supposed it made sense to ask these questions. Granted, most of his acting roles to date leaned heavily in favor of gratuitousness, but it was nice to have someone on the team who would focus on the integrity of the story. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered in his telenovela roles, which often had him kissing, fighting, yelling, and sometimes even crying in the same episode. Necessary didn’t cover it. If it added to the drama, it stayed in. High emotions plus high drama equaled higher ratings.