8
Usually I’d feel at home on the red carpet. The spotlights and flash photography didn’t dazzle me like they had at my first movie premiere. My years of modeling meant I could maintain my composure for as long as required, a smile at the ready.
Tonight it wasn’t proving so easy.
It probably had something to do with the man standing beside me wearing a serious expression, his arm casually draped around my waist.
“You could at least try to look happy,” I whispered.
“Why?”
It took all of my strength for my smile not to slip. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re on camera?”
“So?”
Oh, God help me. I had no idea how I was going to get through the night without making a scene. The man was infuriating on too many levels to count. Like the easy way he wore his suit like a second skin. Or the fact that he could have been a model or actor, with slicked-back dark hair and brooding good looks. He was impeccable in his black-and-white attire and a part of me hated him for it.
A wicked thought occurred to me.
I waited until the cameras were aimed at some of the other celebrities arriving and deliberately pressed the side of my body against his to get his attention.
Marc’s eyes narrowed. He’d been focused on the crowd ever since we’d got there, constantly scanning for threats. Tonight I didn’t feel any more paranoid than usual. If someone wanted to get to me, they’d most likely do it when there weren’t cameras pointed at me and security guards everywhere.
When his gaze settled on me, I tried hard to ignore the way my heartbeat quickened and the unsettling realization that my body pressed against his felt like it fit.
I sweetened my smile. “You could at least try to look happy that you’re my boyfriend then.”
Those dark eyes remained fixed on me, and I had an unnerving feeling that he saw beneath the thick layers of make-up to a part of me I kept carefully hidden.
He cocked an eyebrow. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Am I getting any?”
My smile did slip this time and it was replaced with a look of horror. Meanwhile, his face split into a wide grin. The realization that I found Marc Romero impossibly attractive with a smile on his face only added to my horror.
“Cat got your tongue, Princess?”
“You’re disgusting,” I hissed. “You should be doing your job, not . . . ” My voice trailed off. Teasing me, I had almost said.
“I am doing my job,” he said, pulling me tighter. “Sweetheart.”
If I’d been breathless at his insouciance, his strength didn’t help matters. How was he so strong? He was tall, but he wasn’t one of those ridiculously buffed, built men I secretly couldn’t stand. Marc’s brand of masculinity was one of elegance and refinement.
“You’re hurting me,” I murmured as we posed for another round of flash photography.
“Sorry,” I thought I heard him say over the constant chatter of the crowd. He loosened his grip and his hand slipped down to rest on my hip, sending a frisson of heat down my leg.
“Lena! Who’s your new man? Anyone special?”
Marc’s eyes were on our audience again, scanning the crowd with that look of casual indifference.
I flashed a winning smile. “This is . . .” Oh no. We hadn’t discussed this. On-set he was known as Nathan, but who was he supposed to be tonight? Plus, I had no idea what Nathan’s surname was, or if he even had one. Marc didn’t spare me a glance, probably enjoying my discomfort.
I shifted uncomfortably in my towering heels and continued to smile at the cameras, feeling a little like a deer caught in the headlights. Oh shit. Pull it together, Lena.
“I’m her boyfriend,” he announced.
The line of cameras started snapping pictures frantically again.
“Give him a kiss!” a few people in the crowd called out.
I darted a glance at Marc and the bastard looked genuinely happy for a change. Damn him. He had the audacity to be enjoying this.
I turned back to the cameras, my discomfort replaced with the very immature desire to see him squirm like I just had. “Sure!”
Not allowing myself any time to think, I grabbed Marc’s hand and pulled him to me so his chest pressed against mine. I was wearing one of Ally’s creations—an elegant pale blue slip of a dress that fell to my ankles and required no lingerie, just a lot of double-sided tape.
All the breath left me and Marc’s deep brown eyes sparked like glowing embers.
Ignoring the flush working up my neck at the feel of his hard body against mine, I reached over and placed a hand on his bristled cheek. “You asked for it,” I whispered, right before I kissed him.
Our world exploded into a million silver lights as cameras went off everywhere around us, but I barely noticed. The only thing I was currently aware of was the softness of Marc’s lips on mine. Soft and so unexpectedly sweet that I let my tongue dive into his mouth to discover if the rest of him tasted the same.
His muffled groan vibrated against my chest and he opened his mouth to mine, inviting me to take more. And oh, there was so much more.
The sweetness was swept away by a spicy heat and need as he took me further from the world I knew. I felt the pressure of his hand grip my hip tighter, his thumb kneading small circles through the thin fabric.
It was only when I heard the crowd cheer that I remembered where we were and I stepped back, my heart pounding against my ribs.
If it was any consolation, Marc appeared dazed, too. But I was the first to round my shoulders and throw the onlookers a triumphant smile.
Beside me, Marc quickly regained his composure and his arm circled my waist again. Together we posed for the cameras and slowly made our way along the red carpet with the other attendees.
We didn’t speak, which was just as well because I wasn’t sure I could. I was still startled by the sweet, spicy aftertaste of him, although I didn’t show it. I’d been so certain I could just kiss him in front of the cameras like I had with other actors. We were playing a role, nothing more.
How naïve of me.
Marc wasn’t an actor. He never would be, and that kiss had tasted deliciously real.
*
I was tired by the time the night came to an end when Marc drove me home. It had taken all my strength to continue our farce. It didn’t help that other guests were excited to meet him and kept commenting on what a great couple we made.
I lost count of the number of photos we posed for and knew I would do everything I could to avoid seeing ourselves in the media in the following days. It also hadn’t helped that having him by my side felt natural after a while.
Marc was quiet on the trip home.
I didn’t dare ask him why. I could still taste him on my lips hours later and wondered if our kiss was playing on his mind too, or if it was already forgotten. Even if I’d been brave enough to ask, I was too scared to know the answer.
We drove through the front gate of my property in silence. He didn’t say anything until I opened the door to get out.
“I’ll pick you up the day after tomorrow to take you to the studio.”
“OK.” I slid out of the passenger seat and the late night air felt cool on my bare arms. I went to close the door behind me but Marc cleared his throat.
“Lena?”
“Yes?”
His brown eyes were almost black in the dimly lit cabin. Once again I couldn’t read them. Was he surprised by my lack of argument? He looked away and I thought I saw an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. Goodnight.”
I hesitated only briefly before closing the door. The absence of any rudeness or teasing on his part struck me as unusual, but it came as a welcome relief so I hurried inside.
After carefully hanging my dress in my dressing room, I didn’t waste any time getting ready for bed. I grabbed my robe and went straight to the bathroom. With the faucet running, I set to scrubbing off the layers of make-up. It was usually a routine I didn’t mind. The deliberate removal of my ‘face’ felt like I was putting away a part of my costume. Tonight I was hasty and I rubbed a little too hard so that my skin became pink. It didn’t hide my pale complexion or the haunted look in my equally pale blue eyes.
I had to face facts. I was tired. I’d been working relentlessly ever since my separation from Duncan. Added to that, the recent ‘incident’ in my trailer was something I’d been trying not to think about. But a certain hard-nosed security specialist wouldn’t let me forget about it for even a moment.
Kissing him hadn’t helped.
I didn’t need reminding that beneath his cool exterior he was a man. Nor did I need him thinking I was anything more than a case. He already knew too much about me. What secret parts of me remained were best left locked up safe.
I studied my reflection in the mirror. The color was fading from my cheeks and I could make out the light dusting of freckles. I touched them gently. Most actresses would hate them, but I cherished mine. They were evidence of memories of a happier time. Of summers spent with my mom and dad before the cancer, when we’d actually been a family.
I dropped my hand. It was so long ago and I was a different person now.
Not liking the direction of my thoughts, I stepped into the shower and turned up the temperature until it stung. I only let myself stay under the stream of water for a few minutes before getting out.
I frowned at the sound of a door slamming. Had I left the window open? When a breeze picked up it often pushed my bedroom door shut.
Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed my robe and threw it on. I was almost to the door when my phone vibrated with a message. It was on the bathroom counter where I’d left it. I went back and dropped it into the pocket of my robe. I’d check the message once I’d closed the window and I was in bed.
I rounded the corner from my private en suite into the adjacent dressing room and selected an oversized T-shirt to wear to bed. I had just slipped it over my head when I heard it.
Movement.
Or at least I thought it was movement. It was nothing more than the whisper of a sound. Like the air had been disturbed in the room beyond.
I couldn’t see much of my bedroom, as my dressing room was located in its far corner. All I could make out was the dimly lit wall opposite as I’d only turned my bedside lamp on. I’d have to turn the corner to see my bed, the windows and the small corridor that led to the hallway beyond.
I froze as I thought I sensed movement again.
The window, you idiot.
Of course. It was probably blowing the curtains and I needed to get a handle on my emotions. Marc’s constant vigilance over my safety was making me jumpy. I was safe here. Since Ally’s stalker, my estate was like Fort Knox with a twenty-four-seven presence at the gatehouse and security cameras everywhere monitoring everything.
My phone buzzed again to remind me about the message and I jumped. I put a hand to my chest and rolled my eyes at myself. I recovered the phone from the robe that was now hanging up and turned on the screen.
I frowned at the unknown number and opened the attached message:
I’m waiting for you in the bedroom.