They went to dinner at a different place than last night and she had no illusions about whether they would eat this time. Halfway through the salad course, she put her fork down. “Can we talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” He twirled the fork in his fingers and caught it, then stabbed some lettuce as if it had tried to get up and walk off his plate.
“You know what. The shower.”
“I’m partial to showers, myself. Aren’t you?”
Resorting to deflection. Why was she not surprised? “I say that to all the guys I’m sleeping with. Don’t read into it.”
His face froze. He picked up his wineglass and sat back in the chair, all pretense of eating gone. “Well, I feel special.”
What kind of response was that? Suddenly she was tired of trying to burrow through, under or around that wall. Tired of waiting for that moment when it would all come together.
She buried her face in her hands and willed back the sudden urge to stand and run. “What do you expect me to say? That you’re nothing to me, and I can’t wait to ditch you? That I don’t have any feelings for you? I can’t. Both would be as much a lie as telling you I say that to all the guys. Guy. There’s only been one other.”
“Look at me.”
She raised her head. With a small smile, he held out a hand, palm up. Cautiously, she placed her hand in his and he squeezed it tight. She braced.
Here it comes. It’s not you, it’s me.
“You’re the most fascinating and exciting woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “The most attractive part is your honesty. I have to accept that sometimes it might lead to a little more honesty than expected. If that’s how you feel, I appreciate that you trust me enough to say so. I’m sorry I didn’t handle it well. You took me by surprise. That’s all.”
“Did you just apologize to me?” Her throat wasn’t working right, and it was going to be a close call whether or not she cried. Kris thought she was fascinating and exciting. Instead of continuing to freak out over her slip, he’d apologized. This was way better than a romance novel.
“I did, because I was acting badly. So I’ll do it again. I’m sorry. I don’t want to spend the rest of our time together being at odds. We’ve only got a few days before I go back to L.A.”
A few days? Back to L.A.?
When had English become
her
second language?
“Can we put it behind us and have a good time tonight?” he asked and stroked her knuckle.
“Sure.” Somewhere she’d lost the thread of the conversation and desperately, she cast about, trying to grasp it again. “What’s on the agenda for the evening?”
“A get-together with some people I know.”
“Sounds fun. Oh, look, here’s dinner.”
Gratefully, she released his hand and sat back to give the waiter access. She picked up her fork and dug into the main course, with no idea what it was.
Kris was still planning to end it with her and leave in a few days. Instead of breaking down his barriers, she’d screwed up and added one more. Whatever progress she’d made had been thoroughly erased the moment she dropped the
L
word.
Grief pulled at her mouth. She was waiting in vain for the moment when things would come together because her math skills clearly left a lot to be desired. None of this was working. He’d opened up and all that amazing passion discharged like a crackle of lightning, just as she’d known it would. But it was strictly one-way. A release of energy, not a significant encounter that caused him to reevaluate.
As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, she fell back on the tried-and-true method to regain her equilibrium. If he wanted fun, fun he’d get, at least until she figured out how to turn one and one into two. “What’s the wildest place you’ve ever had sex?”
He grinned and the tension was gone, at least as far as he knew. It was still there, across the back of her neck and racing through her mind as she tried to reconcile the very different agendas playing out on the field of their relationship.
“You mean someplace other than in the shower with you earlier?” His fork disappeared into his mouth.
She had bricks in her chest and he was eating.
“Yeah, that doesn’t count.”
“Sorry, that was so good, it erased my memory. Can I tell you how unbelievably hot it is that you’re ready to go again within minutes?”
“It’s all in the wrist.”
He was being purposely evasive, too much the gentleman to flaunt his experience with other women. Of course it made her love him that much more. How could they be on such different pages?
“What about you?” he asked with a lifted chin. “Other than the shower. Wildest place.”
“The couch.”
He toasted her with his wineglass. “We’ll have to remedy that. Pick a place. Any place. I find myself fond of being your guinea pig.”
“Hood of the car.” Really, she couldn’t even think about this now.
He winced. “You mean the Ferrari?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You got another one?”
“The Ferrari belongs to Kyla. I’m dropping it off to her tonight, so maybe you should pick another place. Why are you grinning like that?”
The Ferrari wasn’t Kris’s. The thought thrilled her. The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place—the engine inside his head wasn’t complex and foreign after all. She
knew
Kristian Demetrious, and therefore, she knew better than to believe the lies he told himself. He was falling back on old habits of denying his feelings because...well, she didn’t know exactly why he did it but that didn’t change the facts. She hadn’t misread him or tripped up by confessing her feelings.
He thought he was leaving in a few days. And she was going to change his mind.
One more big push, and he’d never leave her because he would realize they were meant to be together forever.
Eleven
T
he driving beat, audible even outside the club, thumped against VJ’s ribs as Kris led her past the crowd lined up between red ropes and to an unmarked door around the side.
“Secret VIP entrance?” she asked.
“Something like that.”
Kris nodded to the doorman, who pushed open the door, and Kris took her hand as she crossed the threshold into another world of thick smoke and strafing lights. People were everywhere, three deep at the bar, crushed together on the dance floor. All of them reeked of money.
“Am I allowed to be a little starstruck?” she shouted over the music and tightened her grip on Kris’s hand so she couldn’t fiddle with her hair or dress again. No one was going to notice her anyway, not with a Greek god casting her into shadow.
“No. They’re just people,” he said shortly.
All his answers had been short since they’d gotten into the car after dinner, including when he told her Kyla would be at the club and yes, it would be awkward. Unfortunately, so far, he’d been the one making it awkward with his odd aloofness. Inaccessible Kristian Demetrious was not her favorite companion.
Thankfully she’d worn the black dress last night so she could wear the red one tonight. It was calf-length with a Jezebel slit up the center. All the way up. Any higher and she’d be arrested for indecency. Dozens of glittery straps zigzagged across her bust and torso, then around to her back, allowing a lot of bare skin to peek through. All she needed now was the devil’s pitchfork and some horns, but at least she looked her best and it bolstered her confidence.
Another hulking bouncer guarded the ropes leading to some steps and nodded to Kris when they approached. He unhooked the catch and stepped aside. The result of Kris being famous or because he’d been here before? Maybe it was because he radiated a sense of authority wherever he went.
At the top of the stairs, another room overlooked the main dance floor. This was clearly the place to be. The people below didn’t reek of money. She’d been mistaken. They reeked of pretense, and there was no comparison.
These
people had wealth, class and prestige that poured off of them in waves. Just like Kris.
Her eyes darted everywhere, taking in the diamonds and European cigarettes along with the faces of celebrities often seen in magazines and on TV. The music was quieter here as if fame had a dampening effect on acoustics.
“Is that a Jonas brother?” she couldn’t help but ask and then bit her tongue. She was going to embarrass herself and Kris if she didn’t shut up, but she was still off balance from dinner.
Kris smiled without humor and pulled her into the sea of superstars.
Kyla Monroe was ringed by a throng of admirers, a modern-day Scarlett O’Hara in Scarlett Johansson’s body. In person, she looked the same as she did on the screen. Perfect. Every platinum hair in place, flawless makeup, unblemished skin. She must carry a salon in her clutch that beautified by osmosis.
VJ’s stomach clenched. They’d both slept with the same man. Kris had touched Kyla the same way he’d touched her and probably a lot more times. He’d learned how to do that sucking thing with his mouth from somewhere. Scorpions scuttling along her spine—that’s what it felt like to step into the same room as his ex-girlfriend. His beautiful, poised, glamorous ex-girlfriend.
How did people in Hollywood do this?
Like this.
With confidence drawn from who-knew-where, she pasted on a smile and strode forward to take Kyla’s manicured hand. These were the people Kris interacted with every day, and she’d fit in or be crucified. If it was the latter, at least she’d be dead.
“So this is your new friend.” Kyla’s eyes cut over VJ smoothly. “Kris forgot to mention how striking you are. Catch me before you leave, and I’ll give you my agent’s number. You should call him. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“She’s not interested,” Kris answered for her, fortunately, since she was speechless.
“I’m interested.” A breathtakingly stunning male of the blond Nordic variety had materialized at Kyla’s side. “Introduce us, why don’t you?”
VJ almost fainted when she recognized him.
“VJ Lewis,” Kris said icily. “This is Guy Hansen.”
“I’ve seen all your movies,” VJ gushed as she shook his hand. “I loved the last one about the runaway train. Very edge-of-your-seat.”
“Ah, the magic of editing.” Guy hadn’t released her hand yet, and he didn’t until Kris pulled her away and tucked her underneath his arm.
The glower on Kris’s face could have cooked bacon. VJ did a double take. Jealousy. Because she’d seen Guy’s movies but not Kris’s? Well, it wasn’t her fault the Cineplex in Van Horn played blow-’em-up action movies starring actors with six-pack abs and didn’t show independent films.
Lacing fingers with Kris, she leaned in so only he could hear. “It’s too bad he’s so ugly. Think how successful he could be with a little plastic surgery. Although, he doesn’t speak Greek, so he’ll never be perfect.”
Kris kissed her temple and his lips lingered for an intimate beat. Kyla didn’t miss it. As she glanced back and forth between VJ and Kris, her eyes glittered against the colored strobe lights behind her.
“Babe, run get us some drinks. I’d like to talk to VJ.” Kyla ran a proprietary hand down Kris’s arm and smiled at VJ like the lead in a toothpaste commercial. “He knows what I drink. What would you like?”
VJ smiled at Kyla like the lead in a vampire movie and said, “He knows what I drink, too. And how I take my eggs in the morning.”
Guy whistled. “Look out.”
Kyla laughed and pushed both men aside. “Go. Both of you. Girl talk will only make you vomit.”
VJ shooed Kris off. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” she whispered.
Kris backed away, his aura full of sharp angles and his mouth hard. He didn’t take his eyes off either woman as he flagged down a harried cocktail waitress.
“You’re not at all what I expected,” Kyla said, once Kris was out of earshot. “But I can see why Kris likes you.”
Kris liked her because she understood him better than anyone on Earth and enabled him be the real person he was inside.
But, a glimpse into the psyche of the man VJ loved via his ex was too tempting to pass up.
“Really? Why?”
“You don’t take any crap. He likes strong women who take care of themselves. What do you do?”
Kris liked strong women. Who took care of themselves. So far, she hadn’t been racking up too many points on either count. “What do I do about what?”
“For your career.” Kyla sat gracefully on one of the leather couches lining the wall of the club and crossed her legs in a way too posed to be comfortable, but which showed off her toned thighs. It was astonishing how she’d done that without falling to the floor.
“I’m between engagements. Considering my options.”
The last thing she’d admit to this accomplished woman was how bleak prospects were for eating next week, never mind the luxury of choosing a career.
“Good for you. Very smart to consider all the options.” Kyla swept her with another full-length glance as VJ joined her on the couch. “I love that dress. Roberto Cavalli is one of my favorite designers.”
“Thanks.” There was no way she could reciprocate. She had no idea who’d designed the stunning sequined dress Kyla was wearing and probably wouldn’t know how to pronounce it if she did. And she had a feeling Kyla was leading up to something. Nerves kicked at her, and she wedged her hands under her skirt.
“Can I ask you something?” Kyla went on without pausing. “Did Kris tell you about the financing for his next movie?”
“Of course. He doesn’t keep secrets from me.”
A cigarette appeared between Kyla’s fingers and she waved off Guy who’d returned and jumped over with a light. “Then you must know the film’s budget is tied to the publicity campaign Kris just threw in the trash. He must care about you a great deal to give up that film.”
The flame from Kyla’s lighter mesmerized VJ for a moment, and she didn’t immediately register what the other woman had said. “What?”
“Oops.” Kyla flinched and with a laugh, shook her head. “I assumed you knew the deal with Jack Abrams fell through since you don’t have any secrets.”
“Fell through? No, Kris is working on alternatives. He told me.”
Though she and Kyla were almost the same age, the sudden shrewd light in the other woman’s eyes said VJ was young and naive.
“Making movies is about money and ego, and when money and ego are involved, so are contracts. Directors don’t have the luxury of alternatives, no matter what Kris told you. Oh, I hope I didn’t cause problems between the two of you. He deserves to be happy. Speak of the devil.” Kyla nodded with a raised brow as Kris crossed the room with two drinks in hand. The VIP section wasn’t nearly dim enough to hide his back-off vibe, which she suspected he radiated reflexively when around other people.
“Enough girl talk.” Kris handed Kyla her drink. He extended the same hand to VJ, pulled her off the couch and positioned a stiff arm around her waist. “VJ and I will finish our drinks elsewhere and then we’re leaving. Hansen has the valet claim ticket for your car. I’ll call you later about meeting with the studio.”
“I was doing all right,” VJ said as he guided her across the room. “I would have rescued myself if I wasn’t.”
“I shouldn’t have left you with her, but you insisted. I should have said no.” Kris downed his drink in one shot, lights bouncing off the shiny glass as he tilted it back. She’d never seen him drink so much. She wouldn’t have noticed except for his weird mood, which was getting harder to blame on being in public instead of the more likely cause—he might be okay with honesty, but not with her loving him.
“Kyla was nice.”
Kris snorted. “Nice for a cobra. At least once she poisons you, death is quick. What did she say?”
“She complimented my dress and said you deserve to be happy. Which is true.”
She should mention the film. She should ask him what was going to happen now that he’d called off the engagement. Naively, she’d assumed it would all work out, and Kris would still get to make his movie in spite of having met her.
Her drink disappeared in a few gulps, but it didn’t loosen her tongue.
Kris glanced at his phone and motioned toward the door. “Ready?”
Now was her chance to ask if he was really giving up the film for her. If he was sacrificing something he couldn’t afford to lose this time, instead of giving up something he wasn’t using anyway. Then maybe he’d admit he was in love with her, sweep her into his arms and announce that no mere movie could compare with the depths of completion VJ brought him. He would confess he’d been acting weird because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions.
It could happen.
A tremor stopped her words cold. Music pounded through the sudden hollowness of her chest. He’d spent the last four days telling her how important this movie was and how his entire career hinged on it. Every second he wasn’t with her or sleeping, he clacked away on his laptop, dealing with Important Director Matters. Kyla mentioned contracts, which meant legal entanglements she’d never even considered.
She couldn’t let him give up the movie. For any reason.
So, either Kris was going back to L.A. in a few days to make his movie like he’d said at dinner, and she’d not only have to accept it, she’d have to encourage him to do the engagement after all. Or it was already too late and she’d ruined everything.
The last option, the one where Kris ended up with her
and
the movie, fell into a distant, highly implausible third place.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to know which one it was. Not tonight. Tomorrow was soon enough to ask.
* * *
They’d left the club hours ago and Kris still couldn’t banish the edgy scrabbling at the back of his neck. Awake and restless, he stared through the open drapes at the dark skyline and pulled VJ’s sleeping form a little closer, though she was already almost on top of him. It was never close enough, especially not after exposing her to Kyla and the person he always became around her. VJ cleansed all that from his system.
His plan to take her to the club to solidify the temporary nature of his relationship with VJ hadn’t worked. The part where he’d tried to back off again hadn’t worked, either. All night, he’d carried a sharp, underlying awareness that VJ was in love with him.
Clearly, they defined the words
fun
and
temporary
differently, or she’d never been on board with either from the beginning, which was the most likely. He’d known better than to get involved, but hadn’t been able to resist. Then, when she did exactly as he’d come to expect—said what was in her heart—he acted surprised. His bone-headedness in the shower had been driven purely by the ache in his throat from not being able to say it back.
He’d never said that to anyone, never even come close. Never thought for a moment what he felt might be love. Until now.
VJ made it easy to feel. Necessary to feel. She was in love with him, and the knowledge settled inside with a heavy, unique relevance. Honestly, he’d been eager to leave the club and be alone with her. He’d never cared about that before. Hollywood parties were endless and he usually left unaccompanied. How had this whatever-it-was with VJ progressed this far?
VJ sighed softly and burrowed her head into his shoulder a little deeper. He breathed in the wave of sweetness from her hair, hair he’d washed with his own hands.
The emotionally heavy tang of her on his skin, with that cinnamon hair splayed across his chest as she slept naked in his bed, unearthed a fierce longing in his gut to grab on to her and never let go. To maintain this cocoon she created around the two of them. When he was inside it, anything and everything was possible.
That’s
how it had progressed this far.
If anyone could make him believe in fairy tales, she could.
He threaded that amazing hair through his fingers and cupped her face, gently kissing her awake because he had to. She was a persistence of vision he couldn’t erase. She stirred and rolled with a tiny wiggle until they were snugged tight with her rounded bottom against his hips. Drowsily, she steered his palm to her breast and murmured, “Need you, Kristian. Love me.”