After wrap that day, Tom invited Joey up to his suite to run lines and work on the script.
Of course, it was also because the director, Jon, had practically begged Tom to "coach" Joey a little. He needed her to loosen up and actually feel something in their scenes together. Pepper Potts wasn't just arm candy in this movie; her chemistry with Tony Stark had to spark, sizzle, and basically set the screen on fire.
Right now, Joey's acting wasn't even hitting "mildly warm." She couldn't even manage basic "bedroom eyes." Jon was desperate, so he handed the problem to Tom like a hot potato: Fix her.
Tom had rented the suite himself (some massive four-bedroom corner thing) because he thought the rooms the production put them in were garbage.
He told Joey to make herself comfortable on the couch, then went to the bar, poured her a glass of water with two perfect lemon slices, and sat down right next to her.
He studied her for a second with that cool, steady gaze, then asked softly, "You nervous?"
Joey laughed under her breath; no point pretending. "Yeah. A little. Okay, a lot. I have no idea what I'm doing."
Tom grabbed the script, flipped to one of Pepper and Tony's scenes. "Romantic scenes are just like falling in love for two hours. You've been in love before; you know how it works."
Joey rubbed the back of her hand, trying to shake off the nerves. "I get it. On camera I have to be totally into you. The second the director yells cut I can go right back to treating you like a co-worker. But while the camera's rolling, I have to feel something. I know the theory… I just suck at the execution. If I was any good at this I would've been an actress instead of hiding behind the camera."
Tom reached out and gently lifted her chin so she had to look at him. "You can do this. Anyone can."
The way he was looking at her (soft, almost tender) made her wonder if he was already slipping into character. His voice was warm, his touch careful, like he was handling something precious.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll try."
A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Just don't picture your ex, or anyone you've ever loved."
Joey frowned. "Wait, isn't that exactly what I'm supposed to do?"
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering. "Nope. Because the audience will see it in your eyes that it's fake. The man you're looking at can't be some ghost from your past. It has to be me. Tom Cruise. Tony Stark. Only me."
A slow smile spread across her face. "Got it. In my eyes right now? There's only you."
"Lines," he ordered, voice low and a little rough.
Joey locked eyes with him (those dark brown eyes suddenly shining like crazy). "Come back to me in one piece."
Tom's eyes crinkled, clearly pleased. He leaned in with that cocky Tony grin. "Alright, how about a good-luck kiss? I might not make it back."
She leaned forward and brushed a soft, barely-there kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Go get 'em, boss."
Tom shook his head. "Nah. Still not working, sweetheart. I'm not feeling the sparks."
Joey sighed. "I tried."
"Look at me." Suddenly both his hands cupped her face, turning her fully toward him.
Their eyes locked. Four inches apart. Maybe three.
His thumb grazed the edge of her ear as he murmured, "I'm the billionaire playboy genius you're secretly in love with. Maybe a little crazy. And you're the smart, gentle, gorgeous assistant who keeps me in line."
Joey had always known there was a world-class flirt hiding under Tom's gentleman vibe, but damn; those little touches, that low rumble in his voice; it was messing with her head in the best way.
"You adore me," he continued. "You worry every time I leave like it might really be the last time you see me."
He gave her a second to let it sink in.
"Again."
Joey closed her eyes for a beat. Pictured his face. That smirk. Those arms. Imagined what it would feel like to kiss him for real; tongues tangled, bodies pressed close, the whole movie-style moment.
She opened her eyes and started the scene again.
"Come back to me in one piece." This time her voice had real ache in it. She slid her hand up his back, fingers curling possessively.
Tom's grin got wider; he was loving it. "Good-luck kiss? I might not make it back, you know."
Joey leaned in slow, studying him up close for the first time. The tiny scar on his nose, the way his lashes cast shadows, how stupidly handsome he was when he was enjoying himself.
She whispered, "Go get 'em, boss," and kissed him; soft, sweet, but definitely more heat than before.
She started to pull back.
That's when Tom's hand shot to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, and he crushed her mouth to his.
His tongue swept in like he owned the place; no hesitation, no politeness; just pure, hungry possession. He kissed her like the world was ending in thirty seconds and this was his last shot.
Joey's brain flat-lined. Total system reboot. She couldn't move, couldn't think, and the scariest part? Some traitorous little voice in her head whispered, I don't want to stop.
His tongue was soft but relentless, tasting every inch of her mouth before curling around hers, drawing it into a slow, filthy dance.
It wasn't a stage kiss. It was real, deep, and way too good.
When he finally let her go, they just stared at each other, breathing hard. Neither said a word. Anything they could've said would've sounded like a lame excuse anyway.
Tom's chest was rising and falling fast. Joey hadn't pushed him away; she'd melted right into it. To him, that felt like a green light.
He hadn't planned this; he swears the second her lips touched his, every ounce of self-control just evaporated.
He reached to touch her cheek again.
And that's when Joey snapped out of it. Eyes wide, cheeks on fire, she bolted off the couch like she'd been electrocuted, mumbled something incoherent, and ran straight out of his suite.
She didn't stop until she was locked in her own room, staring at her swollen lips in the mirror, heart hammering.
What the hell just happened?
Was that just method acting gone too far? Or… did he actually mean it?
She had no idea how to face him without dying of embarrassment, so she did what any sane person would do: she fled.
But the more she thought about it, the more it felt like classic "got carried away in the scene." Hollywood's full of co-stars who accidentally make out during love scenes and then pretend it never happened. Most of those hookups crash and burn anyway.
If that's all it was, she'd rather just… forget it.
If she confronted him, she'd look like she was reading way too much into it. And if he wanted to pretend nothing happened, bringing it up would just make it awkward forever.
Better to wait and see how he acted tomorrow.
She tossed and turned all night, barely slept, and showed up on set the next morning with massive dark circles.
First thing she did: scan the area for Tom.
Nowhere.
Weird. She tracked down Jon. "Hey, where's Tom?"
Jon gave her a funny look. "He called in sick; took two days off. We're flipping the schedule around. Whoa, you okay? You look like you haven't slept in a week."
Joey just turned and walked away, feeling like someone punched her in the stomach.
Two days off. Right after that kiss.
Message received, loud and clear.
He didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to explain. He just… vanished.
Cool. Fine.
If that's how he wanted to play it, then she could pretend too.
Nothing happened.
Nothing at all.