“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” Naomi turned to Josh. “I’ll do it, but only if Connecticut here is involved in the development, casting, cutting, the whole process.”

Clara’s face drained of all color. “Why would you want me involved?”

“This is a huge risk. No matter what the two of you wanna tell yourselves. I’m treating this like a business decision. A serious one. If we only reach the people who are already watching porn, it’s too niche. You’re the target audience. The kind of woman who will watch this stuff, benefit from it, if we’re successful, right? I need you as a stand-in for what the average American woman wants to know and what’s a step too far. Plus, if you’ve got more skin in the game, you’re less likely to get cold feet and pull the funding.”

“I’m only comfortable with nudity in Renaissance artwork, and even then sometimes I get overheated.”

Naomi smiled a genuine smile, the one that changed almost her whole face. From ice to inferno. “That’s my final offer, Connecticut.”

Josh grabbed Clara’s elbow. “You don’t have to do this. It’s too much. You’ve already got a full-time job. We’ll find someone else.”

“There is no one else,” Clara said between her teeth. “Not like her.” She wiped her palms on her jeans and extended her hand for Naomi to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal, but I’m warning you now I might need a fainting couch.”

Chapter seventeen

CLARA HAD NEVER seen this many topless people outside the south of France. It had taken two weeks to register their new business, obtain a federal employer identification number, open a company bank account, and obtain all the necessary licenses and permits mandated by California law, but they were finally ready to start recruiting performers for their as yet untitled project.

Two more weeks of lying to her mother about spending “all her free time” visiting art museums and brushing up on her ancient Greek. Every time Lily wanted to Skype, Clara told her the Wi-Fi was spotty and Everett was working on getting it fixed. She would probably get a stomach ulcer from all the lying, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

Josh, Clara, and Naomi had rented out a small studio space in Burbank to hold auditions. Of course, Naomi showed up looking way more chic than anyone had a right to. That’s the type of woman Josh goes for. All legs and hair and collarbones sharp enough to take out an eye.

Any and all thoughts of him ever touching Clara again needed to cease. She’d never carry herself like Naomi. Never ooze sex appeal or skewer a man with only a few words. Josh bedded bombshells, not bookworms.

He and Naomi had arranged the logistics of recruitment while Clara worked her day job for Jill. True to her word, she still reviewed everything. The unlikely trio had daily status calls at night.

Today they’d be seeing a mix of seasoned adult performers and a handful of students recruited from Naomi’s psychology program at Cal State. In addition to being insanely hot, Naomi was also a genius studying for her master’s in social psychology and family dynamics. Clara made sure everyone signed an ironclad nondisclosure agreement at the door.

They wanted to cast an array of backgrounds and body types, and they needed people who were comfortable in front of the camera as well as with the risk and who believed in the mission of the project.

Clara stood at the water fountain in the hallway, filling her reusable bottle, when Naomi sashayed out of the casting room. “So far so good, Connecticut, but today the real fun starts. You nervous?”

Clara thought about lying but decided that, like animals, Naomi could probably smell fear. “Yes.”

“That’s all right.” Naomi adjusted the straps of her tank top. “As long as your nerves don’t keep you from doing your job.”

“Remind me of my job again?”

“Barometer for average.”

“Right.” Clara’s eyes shot down the hall. “There are a lot more people here than I expected.”

“Hey.” Naomi’s voice relaxed from granite to shale. “You can do this.”

The vote of confidence was surprising but nice. Clara smiled. “Thanks.”

“But if you can’t, I’d rather figure it out now.”

Her smile died. “That was less reassuring.”

Naomi shrugged and walked away.

“Um . . . I think your bottle might be full,” a man’s voice said from behind Clara.

She turned to find a handsome stranger gesturing at her overflowing water bottle. He had a similar jawline to Josh’s, actually, though this man’s wasn’t quite as strong and lacked the golden stubble that Clara had come to appreciate on her roommate.

“Sorry.” She stepped out of his way.

“No trouble.” The man flashed a set of very white and very straight teeth at her. “You here for the auditions?”

“No. I mean, yes.” Clara pulled down the sleeves of her favorite blazer. “I’m part of the casting team. I’m not, like, a performer.”

“That makes sense. I’d remember a girl like you.” He extended his tan hand. “I’m Matt. Masterson. I know Josh and Naomi from filming Infinity Orgasm.”

“Oh.” She laughed nervously. “Gotcha.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No.” She took a careful step backward. “No, I’m afraid I’m a bit of a pornography novice.”

“Well, if you ever want any recommendations or . . .” He leaned toward her until she could smell the spearmint of his breath. “. . . a practical demonstration, I’d be happy to help you out.” He flashed his giant, shiny teeth at her again. This guy must floss like ten times a day.

Clara tried not to stutter. “That’s a very generous offer, Matt.”

“Put it away, Masterson.”

She hadn’t heard Josh come up behind her. “Oh. Hi.”

“Just being friendly, Darling.” Matt wasn’t as tall as Josh. He had to tilt his head slightly to look him in the eye.

“Direct your friendliness elsewhere. We’re running behind schedule.” Josh let his hand rest lightly on Clara’s back, a few inches below where her shoulder blades ended, and gently steered her toward the conference room. “We need to get going.” He used a much lighter tone with her than he had with Matt.

Clara leaned in to whisper to him as they walked. “What do you think of that guy? Should we cast him? He certainly seemed . . . hygienic.” The spicy scent of Josh’s soap washed over her and she inhaled superfluously.

Josh pulled out her chair and then his own. “I guess women like him,” he said in clipped syllables.

Clara stared down at her notebook. At the checklist she’d made last night in an effort to come up with an objective ranking system for potential performers. “You don’t think he was flirting with me, do you?”

“Of course he was flirting with you.” Josh had the tip of his pen in his mouth, leaving a faint impression of his teeth on the plastic.

Clara found herself smiling at her notebook. “Really? I think I might have liked it.” It was hard to tell. She didn’t have much practice receiving male attention.

“Matt’s not the guy for you, trust me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you should be with a doctor or a firefighter . . .” Josh sighed. “. . . or at the very least a kindergarten teacher.”

“Oh, I get it.” Her shoulders slumped.

Josh’s mouth turned down. “Get what?”

“I’m not . . . sexy enough.” Her stomach clenched. Matt had probably only turned on the charm because he thought she could help him get a part.

Josh dropped his pen. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know I wear too many cardigans. And I can’t, for the life of me, figure out how to use a curling iron.” She lowered her voice. “Even my nice bras are neutral colors.”

Josh closed his eyes and lowered his forehead into his hand. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s all right.” She swallowed down her discomfort. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. It’s been this way my whole life.” Everett never would have walked away from Naomi.

“Clara—” Josh placed his hand over where she’d started to anxiously twiddle her thumbs in her lap.

“Are you two ready?” Naomi took the final seat behind the card table and Josh bent to pick up his pen, taking his hand with him. “We’ve got a line down the hall.”

“Yeah. We’re good.” Clara folded herself in as small as possible. Legs, shoulders, neck. Josh’s opinion of her ability to heat a man’s blood didn’t surprise her as much as it confirmed her bleak self-assessment. She didn’t belong here among all the beautiful, sexually advanced people.

“Number one, please.” Naomi’s voice resounded with authority.

A full-figured brunette with a sleeve of tattoos and a nose ring came in. “Marissa Martinez,” she said.

“Hi, Marissa. Before we get started, you’ve signed the release forms, performer questionnaire, and nondisclosure?”