Departure from the Script

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www.ylva-publishing.com

Other Books by Jae

Happily Ever After

Standalone Romances:

Just a Touch Away

The Roommate Arrangement

Paper Love

Just for Show

Falling Hard

Heart Trouble

Something in the Wine

Shaken to the Core

Fair Oaks Series:

Perfect Rhythm

Not the Marrying Kind

Portland Police Bureau Series:

Conflict of Interest

Next of Kin

The Hollywood Series:

Departure from the Script

Damage Control

Just Physical

The Hollywood Collection (box set)

The Oregon Series:

Backwards to Oregon

Beyond the Trail

Hidden Truths

The Complete Oregon series (box set)

The Shape-Shifter Series:

Second Nature

Natural Family Disasters

Manhattan Moon

True Nature

The Vampire Diet Series:

Good Enough to Eat

Unexpected Love Series:

Under a Falling Star

Wrong Number, Right Woman

Chemistry Lessons

Acknowledgments

As with any creative project, there were a lot of people who had a hand in bringing this novella into existence, mainly Erin and Astrid, who kicked my butt when I wanted to end the story after the first kiss, and my critique partners, Alison Grey and RJ Nolan, who helped me revise with their invaluable feedback.

I also want to thank my test readers Betty, Henriette, and Michele for their time and their constructive criticism.

A big thank-you goes to Nikki Busch, editor extraordinaire, for her thorough yet fast work.

I’m more grateful for their help than I could ever express. Thanks!

Author’s Note

Departure from the Script started out as a short story, which has been published under the title The Morning After, but Amanda and Michelle demanded more attention, so I extended it into a novella. At 52,000 words, some would even call it a novel.

Whatever you call it, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing about these two!

CHAPTER 1

Someone would die before dessert. Amanda was sure of that. She just didn’t know yet who it was going to be. Either she would die of boredom, or her date would collapse face-first into her smoked salmon mousse, with Amanda’s fork piercing her carotid.

Oblivious to Amanda’s murderous intentions, Val prattled on and on and on. …and so my parents made a deal that my father would get to name their first child and my mother would get to name the second. Oh, and you know what’s really neat? She clapped her hands.

No, Amanda said, drawing on her acting skills to appear at least halfway interested. What? She lifted a deep-fried coconut shrimp to her mouth to cover her yawn.

Val is short for Valentine, so Valentine’s Day has always been my lucky day. I knew as soon as I met you that we were meant to be together forever.

Amanda nearly inhaled the shrimp. She coughed until her face had surely turned crimson. With two big gulps, she emptied her wine glass and looked around for the waiter. If she wanted to make it through this date, she needed some liquid encouragement. Meant to be? Um, Val, this is our first date. Don’t you think that’s a little rushed, even for two lesbians?

Oh, not at all. Val reached across the table and ran one scarlet-painted nail down Amanda’s arm. True love doesn’t know time.

Goose bumps followed in the wake of Val’s touch. Too bad they weren’t the pleasant type. Under the pretense of emptying her glass, which the waiter had just refilled, Amanda pulled her arm away. All right. I’m out of here.

Before she could think of a polite way to escape this date from hell, the waiter interrupted. He set down the wild-mushroom pasta in front of her and then walked around the table to serve Val’s ricotta ravioli.

Still jabbering nonstop, Val reached for her fork and used it to cut her ravioli into little heart-shaped pieces.

Amanda stared at Val’s plate. Oh God, she’s a love psycho. She felt as if she were stuck in one of the badly written daily soaps she had auditioned for, but there was no one yelling, cut when things weren’t going well.

You’ll love my parents, Val said. I know they’ll fall in love with you at first sight too, just like I did. Maybe we could drive up and visit them next weekend. They live in Carmel. It’s a nice drive, very romantic. She made googly eyes at Amanda.

In a second, she would probably start playing footsie under the table.

Amanda craned her neck, searching for the nearest exit.

Damn. Val dabbed frantically at a bit of tomato sauce that had splashed onto her blouse. She rubbed and scrubbed but only succeeded in making it worse. Her chair scraped across the floor as she jumped up. Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to… She waved at her chest and hurried away.

Yes! Amanda stood too. This was her chance to beat a hasty retreat. But was it really fair to put enough money on the table to pay for her half of dinner and leave? She threw a longing glance at the exit but then sighed and sat back down. Too bad her grandmother had raised her better than that. Val might be nuttier than a fruitcake, but Amanda didn’t want to spoil her lucky day forever by leaving her in the middle of their date without any explanation.

Cursing herself, she fumbled to retrieve her cell phone from her purse and pressed number two on the speed dial.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. Hi, Kathryn said. What can I do for my favorite client?

You can promise to never, ever set me up on a blind date again.

Oh. Kathryn paused. I take it your date isn’t going well? Rob swore on his brother’s grave that she’s exactly the type of woman you go for.

Amanda snorted. Rob’s an only child.

Paper rustled on the other end of the line. So Val isn’t your type?

Hell no, Amanda wanted to shout, but she forced herself to be fair. When I first saw her, I thought she was. Truth be told, Val was exactly her type—at least in the looks department: Her wavy, red hair fell in stylish curls past her slender shoulders. She was dressed in an elegant blouse and a black miniskirt that was sexy yet tasteful. And she moved with more grace than many of Amanda’s fellow actresses.

And then? Kathryn asked. What happened?

She opened her mouth. Amanda took another sip of red wine.

Oh, come on. Don’t be such a snob. She can’t be that bad.

Oh, no? How would you like a date that tells you her entire life story—and that of every member of her family—before you can even order dinner? And then she proceeds to plan your future together because she’s convinced you’re meant for each other. Amanda emptied her glass and shook herself. I bet by the time we order dessert, she’ll have our children’s lives all mapped out.

Kathryn laughed. You’re not kidding, are you?

I wish I were. Amanda raised her hand to summon the waiter. After he refilled her glass, she nodded her thanks.

Where is your date from hell? Kathryn asked. Have you fled to the bathroom?

No, she did. She dropped a bit of her heart-shaped ravioli on her blouse. Amanda kept one eye on the door to the ladies’ room. Val could be back any minute. Kath, you have to help me. I need to get out of here before she drops to one knee and proposes in the middle of the restaurant.

Kathryn’s muffled giggle reverberated through the phone. Just tell her Steven Spielberg called and wants you for his next movie, so you need to leave right away to meet with him.

Spielberg. Amanda snorted. Sure, she’ll believe that. He saw me in the last commercial I did and was so blown away by the finesse I used when holding up that dishwashing liquid that he wants to hire me on the spot.

Stranger things have happened, Kathryn said.

Not to me.

The door to the ladies’ room opened.

Amanda’s heartbeat tripled.

An elderly woman stepped back into the restaurant.

Amanda blew out a breath. "The strangest thing that happened to me is this date. This is like the dating Twilight Zone."

Can’t be worse than the first date with my second husband, Kathryn said. He—

Kath, I’d love to listen to your story, but I only have a few seconds before Val is back. Help!

Okay, okay. I’ll think of something and call you back. Kathryn ended the call.

Moments after Amanda put the cell phone away, Val left the ladies’ room and returned to the table. She had clearly tried to remove the stain with water and soap from the bathroom sink, so now her wet blouse was nearly see-through and stuck to her well-endowed chest.

Down, girl, Amanda told her libido. This woman’s like cotton candy. She might look tasty, but she’s bad for you…and sticky as hell.

Val took a seat and picked up her fork again. Within less than a minute, she had made half a dozen more ravioli hearts. Sorry about that. So tell me a bit about yourself, she said. What did you think when you first met me?

A piece of mushroom nearly lodged in Amanda’s windpipe. I think I’ll be the one to die tonight. Asphyxiation, most likely. She took another sip of red wine. Or maybe cirrhosis of the liver.

Her cell phone rang to the tones of Madonna’s Hollywood.