“That was great,” she said. “Did it feel okay to you two?”

Easing back, Ashton nodded, and Jasmine gave a hum of agreement.

He’d been nervous about this process, but now that they were in it, he was a little startled at how much more than okay it felt to him. From an acting standpoint, he’d been completely in tune with Jasmine, more deeply connected than any of their other times on set together. Already, he could see that their performance was improving.

Once Ilba and Marquita had signed off on the choreography, Vera clapped her hands together. “Great. Let’s choreograph the kiss!”

KISSING A STRANGER was weird.

Kissing a stranger while another person hovered around them, adjusting their body parts and giving direction, was also weird. But Vera was so quirky and genuine, Jasmine couldn’t help but love her a little. She also truly seemed to understand the characters, which was more than Jasmine could say for many directors she’d worked with.

At every step, Vera asked if they were comfortable and if the moves made sense for Carmen and Victor. To Jasmine’s surprise, Ilba and Marquita stayed off to the side, offering comments and suggestions when asked, but for the most part, letting Vera do her thing. There was no ego here, and wasn’t that a rare thing in this industry?

Vera was clearly good at her job. This kiss was going to look hot once they filmed the whole thing together. So far, they’d just done bits and pieces, choreographing it like a dance or a stage fight.

And strictly speaking, Ashton wasn’t a complete stranger, but it was still weird. The first time he touched his lips to hers, it was as unsexy as you could get. They were both looking at Vera, not each other, and balancing awkwardly, with his lower lip pressed to her top one. Vera had instructed them not to kiss so much as touch their mouths together while they perfected each part before moving on to the next.

It was going well, and everyone was behaving like a consummate professional, but Jasmine was used to laughing through love scenes, finding common ground in how weird and awkward the whole thing was. With Ashton, it was like all the strangeness of what they were doing was being filtered through Vera. Which was good, but . . . when were they going to connect?

Finally, Vera seemed satisfied with the rehearsal. “Do you two feel comfortable running through the whole scene now?”

Ashton nodded, but Jasmine’s “yes” was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn.

She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. No coffee yet.”

Ashton shot her a look, and was it her imagination, or was he fighting back a smile?

Marquita checked her phone. “Uh-oh. The crew is waiting to come in.”

Vera looked troubled as she addressed Jasmine and Ashton. “I don’t want to rush you through this now, but I also don’t want the first time you run through the whole thing to be with the entire crew present.”

Before Jasmine could say anything, Ashton shrugged. “We’ll be fine. We don’t want to get too far off schedule.”

He raised an eyebrow at Jasmine, like he was asking her to agree, so she nodded. The impulse to not waste the crew’s time was ingrained in her from her time on soap operas, and she couldn’t stand the thought that people were waiting on them to finish.

“Yeah,” she said, giving Vera a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine.”

“Don’t forget to high-five,” Vera told them.

Ah yes. The closure ritual. Jasmine looked to Ashton, who wore an unreadable expression. Without a word, they raised their hands and slapped them together.

Except their timing was off. She’d started too early, and he hadn’t put enough force into it. Probably trying not to hurt her. Either way, it was a pretty poor showing as far as high fives went.

“Awesome.” Ilba grabbed her things. “Let’s get you two into hair and makeup.”

Jasmine followed her out. Maybe the makeup brushes would wash away the feel of Ashton’s strong fingers on her skin. The last thing she needed was his phantom caresses plaguing her all day.

The man was an enigma, albeit a sexy one. If she were smart, she’d keep her distance.

Too bad Jasmine had never been smart when it came to men.

Chapter 11

CARMEN IN CHARGE

EPISODE 3

Scene: Carmen’s mother teaches Victor to cook.

INT: Serranos’ kitchen—NIGHT

Carmen staggered into the basement-level kitchen of her parents’ Spanish Harlem brownstone, loaded down with heavy shopping bags. Victor and her mother, Dahlia Serrano, stood at the kitchen island calmly chopping vegetables together.

“Didn’t you two already go to the grocery store?” Carmen complained. “Why did I have to make another trip after work? The lines were unbelievable.”

“We want Victor to win, no? Pues, necesitamos un side dish.”

Carmen rolled her eyes, but began unloading the groceries into the fridge. “What are you making?” She made a show of sniffing the air. “It smells like a garlic farm exploded in here.”

“We’re making mofongo,” Victor replied with a grin.

“Ah, your favorite.” Carmen pulled an open bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass. “I can’t count how many times you came to bed reeking of garlic after eating Mami’s mofongo.”

“I can’t help it if Dahlia is an amazing cook.” He shot his ex-mother-in-law a dashing grin, which Dahlia totally fell for. She trilled a little laugh and patted the side of Victor’s face.

“Ay, muchacho, we missed you around here,” she said, then snapped up a spare apron and tossed it to Carmen. “Póntelo, nena. Those plátanos aren’t going to peel themselves.”

“Isn’t this cheating?” Carmen grumbled, but she tied the apron on over her dress. “Victor’s going to have to do all this himself during the competition.”

“It’s not like you’re a master chef either,” Victor pointed out with a smile. “You could also stand to learn.”

“Oh, I know how to make mofongo,” she retorted. “You think I could get away with not helping my mom cook? In this house?”

“So what happened?” He leaned in closer while Dahlia rinsed greens in the sink. “You never cooked for me.”

Carmen gave a sassy little shrug. “Not the best use of my time,” she said primly. “Some of us had to work.”

He leaned his hip on the counter and ducked his head closer to hers. “That’s not fair,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t become an international pop star by accident. I had demands on my time too.”

Carmen stilled. She set down the plátano in her hands, and with a deliberate movement, turned her face toward his. Their gazes locked, and all traces of teasing and frustration melted from her expression.

This was a big moment. They’d practiced it multiple times during rehearsal, and Ilba had told them it would be a big close-up: the moment when Carmen and Victor connected emotionally. Again.

“I know,” Carmen said in a soft voice. “You’re right. We were both . . . unavailable.”

The moment stretched between them until a loud clang made them both jump. With perfect timing, Dahlia had plunked down a giant soup pot onto the stove.