Chapter Two
PARKER AWOKE SATURDAY morning to Christmas’s wet tongue slurping her face. She groaned, and the sound vibrated in her skull, making her regret turning to her new friend, Tequila, last night. She rolled over, and Christmas pressed his nose to her cheek, urging her to get up and feed him. She blinked a few times and realized they were no longer in the media room, but on her bed. She couldn’t remember coming upstairs. In fact, she couldn’t remember much past—Oh no! Grayson.
She bolted upright, sending a rush of blood throbbing behind her eyes. Groaning again—and immediately regretting it—she closed her eyes and reached beneath the covers, praying she wasn’t naked. Whew. Her eyes flew open with relief. She still had on her sweats and tank.
Oh no. My sweats? The ice-cream, chocolate, tequila-stained sweats? Images from the night before snuck into her mind: Grayson looking like sin and pleasure all wrapped up in more than six feet of deliciously rugged man. His eyes filling with amusement as he plucked candy from her hair, and a minute later, brimming with heat. The kind of heat that made her feel sexy and feminine. She closed her eyes again, hoping she hadn’t acted on those feelings.
She remembered telling him about Bert, and on the heels of that memory was the recollection of being in his arms and his soothing voice and reassuring words making her feel a little less lonely. If only I could remember if he made me feel less lonely in other ways, too. She’d never actually had drunken sex, but she’d been so wrapped up in Grayson’s emails soothing her for all these months, who knew what she would do when her brain was drenched in tequila and grief.
Christmas shoved his nose into her thigh, jerking her from her thoughts.
“Sorry. I know you’re hungry.”
Forcing herself to her feet, she waited for the pounding behind her eyes to settle, then padded down to the kitchen to get Tylenol and coffee and to feed Christmas. While Christmas ate, she meandered through the house looking for signs of drunken debauchery.
The living room cushions hadn’t been moved, and the hardwood floors were free of naked butt prints. Whew! At least we didn’t christen this room. Only about fifteen more to go. She looked up at the high ceilings and sent a little thank-you to the powers that be. She hadn’t expected to come to Wellfleet to grieve for the most important person in her life. She’d planned on returning to LA after she finished filming, spending a week or two with Bert, and then coming to Wellfleet to see…
Oh no. She’d been so upset over Bert, she’d forgotten she’d sent Grayson an email a few weeks back asking him to return to Wellfleet and make a railing for the house. She wanted a prettier railing, that much was true, but she’d really looked forward to spending time with him to see if what she’d felt for him all these months had been real and whether there might be something more between them. After last night, she might as well kiss those thoughts goodbye.
She made her way down to the media room, searching for clues about last night. The pit of her stomach went hot at the thought of having sex with the gorgeous, confident man who wrote lovely emails—and saw her looking like a mess, heard her rambling, and wiped her tears. What a mess. She was never a mess. Ever. She was organized, on top of her lines, and she rarely took time off from acting, going from one film to the next with just enough time to prepare. Acting was a good distraction from the life she wasn’t living. People in her circles were more interested in what she brought to the table or what being seen with her could do for their careers, making friends and relationships transient at best. But while she had acting and hiding in her whirlwind life down pat, she had no experience with grief. She’d been only a year old when she’d lost her mother. Bert’s unexpected demise had thrown her completely off-balance, and poor Grayson had witnessed it.
She touched her cheek, remembering the feel of his rough thumb as he brushed away her tears. The intimate gesture had taken her by surprise. But it was the memory of the caring look in his eyes that had her frozen in place now, standing just a few feet from the media room. Had he really looked at her like that, or was the alcohol skewing her memory? What was worse than thinking she’d seen a caring look in his eyes, was suddenly remembering wanting desperately to kiss him. What if she had kissed him but couldn’t remember it? What if she’d tried to do more and he’d had to fight her off? Or worse. What if he didn’t fight her off?
No more tequila. Ever.
Christmas bounded down the stairs and nudged the back of her knee, sending her stumbling into the media room. Her eyes widened at the spotless room. She blinked a few times, wondering if she’d dreamed up the whole night. Maybe Grayson hadn’t even been there. She took in the pristine hardwood floors and leather couches, the clean wooden bar where the nearly empty tequila bottle sat square in the center. Nope. She hadn’t made up that part. She remembered the towels Grayson had used to clean the coffee table and looked for them behind the bar. No dirty towels. She must really be losing her mind.
My suitcase! Her heart slammed against her ribs. She definitely remembered her clothes and candy strewn around the room. Shootshootshoot. She tore upstairs to her bedroom and found her suitcase sitting on the armchair by the windows. She opened it, hoping and praying he hadn’t—Oh no. He’d folded her clothes. She tipped open the hamper, melting a little when she saw two soiled bar towels. But that moment of reveling in his thoughtfulness was shattered when she realized there was only one reason a man would ever go to so much trouble.
She must have slept with him.
She didn’t know what upset her more, the embarrassment of having probably attacked him, or not remembering one single second of it. That thought made her want to crawl back into the tequila bottle and get on the next flight out of town.
How could she ever face him again?
She couldn’t. There was no how involved.
Chastising herself for being so reckless, and for being too drunk to remember what was probably the best sex she’d ever have in her entire life, she showered, dried her hair, and began the process of becoming Parker Collins.
Foundation, blush, eyeliner, lipstick—sigh—fake eyelashes. She hated fake eyelashes. So what if hers were too blond? Couldn’t she just go back to being Polly Collins for a little while? Her agent had chosen Parker as her Hollywood name. It wasn’t like she tried to hide her true identity, but the world knew her as Parker Collins, and she had never publicly talked about being Polly. Polly had become her reference to living a normal life. Not that her life had been normal before. But being Polly meant living life as a non-celebrity. How many times had she told Bert she wanted to go back to being Polly? When she was sick of the paparazzi, or had cramps, or was too exhausted to care if she went to the grocery store looking good enough for anyone other than herself.
Bert’s voice sailed into her mind. The world adores Parker Collins, and that makes it possible for you to give back to the children of the world. Polly’s the strength and courage that drives you, but she has the power to undermine Parker in the eyes of your fans. Polly is yours forever, but she can never be theirs.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she put on the stupid eyelashes and grabbed her keys. Time to buck up and visit Bert’s jerky brother.
GRAYSON WALKED ALONG Parker’s side yard carrying the new designs for her railing he’d drawn up late last night, trying to get his thoughts together before knocking on her door. He’d told himself he needed to catch up with the beautiful, leggy blonde to try to nail down the final design for the railing. But while that might be true, it wasn’t what had kept him up all night wishing he could reverse time and rewrite the last ten months. If he could, he would darn well make sure he knew about Bert well before he passed away, and that she had no family, and a great dog, and all the other personal things she’d probably kept hidden. And he would have been with her immediately after she’d lost Bert so she didn’t have to deal with that loss alone.
She’d put up a tough front last night, even with the tears she’d shed. Grayson had suffered grief, and he knew how it could knock a person to their knees. She’d fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder while they were talking, or rather, while she mumbled and he tried to follow along. Little of what she’d said made sense, but then again, not much of what he’d felt since then had made sense either. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t his place to try to be there for her, especially knowing he might have misinterpreted their dealings for nearly a year. Besides, shouldn’t she have an entourage of people caring for her? But she didn’t, and Grayson had never been good at being dissuaded from something he wanted. And regardless of whether it made him a fool or not, he wanted to be there for Parker.
Christmas bounded around the corner of the house, favoring his right paw, and woofed with delight at the sight of Grayson.
Grayson knelt to love him up. “Hey there, buddy.”
The dog licked his cheek. Then the big lug buried his snout in Grayson’s crotch.
“Nice to see you again, too.” Grayson redirected the dog’s nose. “Where’s your mama?”
Christmas plopped down on his butt by Grayson’s feet, giving him a chance to inspect the dog’s giant paw. He picked a piece of what looked like taffy from between the pads, and the dog licked his cheek again.
“Christmas!”
At the sound of Parker’s voice, Grayson and Christmas looked toward the front yard. Parker came around the corner of the house and stopped cold at the sight of Grayson. He preferred the dog’s eager reaction.
Christmas, obviously used to seeing Parker looking like a million sexy bucks, woofed and sprinted over to her. Grayson wasn’t quite as quick to collect himself. He rose to his feet, mouth dry, trying not to gawk as he took in her high heels and long, tanned legs, which disappeared beneath a pair of expensive-looking navy shorts. She wore a demure white blouse, and her long blond hair lay sexily over one shoulder. The whole ensemble was topped off with a floppy white sun hat and enormous sunglasses.
“Hi,” he said, having trouble reconciling this primly put together actress with the dressed-down, grieving woman he’d been with last night.
She shifted her large designer bag to the crook of her arm and nervously petted Christmas. “I…I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I probably should have called.” I was worried about you. “I thought we could take a few minutes to go over the design ideas for the railing.”
Her eyes darted nervously to the water, the house, the dog, everywhere but at him. “I…I can’t. I have to…um…go into Brewster.” She turned and hurried toward the front of the house.
Grayson fell into step behind her, admiring the view of her perfect rear end and mulling over the brush-off she was clearly giving him. Assuming she was pissed at last night’s unannounced intrusion, he said, “I’m sorry about barging in last night.”
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said with her back to him as she let Christmas in the house.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t realize you were in town. Otherwise I wouldn’t have used my key.”
She didn’t respond. He’d obviously been mistaken last night when he’d thought the heat between them was more than just drunken lust. He should give her the designs to review and leave. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that behind those sunglasses she was hurting, and if what she’d said last night was true, she was suffering alone. Plus, she’d said something about meeting a jerk today, and that wasn’t sitting well with him.
“Parker, about last night…”
She clicked the remote to the garage, revealing a shiny silver Lexus. He hadn’t thought to check the garage last night. The house had been pitch-dark when he’d arrived to recheck the measurements for the railing, and then he’d heard a noise downstairs and he’d thought someone had broken in.
This no-eye-contact thing she had going on was beginning to annoy him. He’d gone ten months without eye contact, which had made the design process more difficult. But he’d resisted the urge to ask her to Skype or FaceTime, because he had a feeling if they did, all those emotions he was feeling would come tumbling out. He’d proven he sucked at reading her without eye contact, and he wasn’t about to take a chance of being wrong about anything else where Parker was concerned. Without a word, he lifted the sunglasses from her face.
“Grayson. What…?” She put her hand in front of her face and turned away.
He gently turned her toward him. There wasn’t enough makeup in the world to hide the worry and sadness swimming in her eyes. It didn’t matter if she wanted him around or not. He wasn’t leaving.
“Parker, I didn’t come to go over the drawings. I was concerned about you.”
Her lips parted, as if she was going to respond, but she lowered her eyes in silence.
“I know you’re sad about Bert, but you can talk to me. I’ve dealt with loss like this before.”
She finally met his gaze. “You have?”
“Yes, when I lost my mother. I know how hard this is, and if you’re embarrassed about drinking or the candy, or whatever, don’t be.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes went glassy. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Me too. I really do understand, so if you need a friend, I’m here.”
“I appreciate that,” she said softly. Her cheeks flushed. “And thank you for cleaning up last night. You really didn’t have to do that.”
“Well, it was either that or pick more candy out of Christmas’s paws.”
She smiled, and it loosened the knot in his gut.
“I think I found taffy in his paw this morning.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Sure did. And, um…Christmas?” He cocked a brow, relieved to see her tension easing. “We’ve been emailing for almost a year. How did I not know about your big lovable dog?”
“Sorry. I don’t talk about my life much, and he wasn’t on location with me. He always stays—stayed—with Bert when I was filming.” Her eyes warmed. “Bert gave him to me for Chanukah.”
“You’re Jewish and you named your dog Christmas?”
“I’m not Jewish, but Bert was, so we celebrated Chanukah. One year I said it might be nice to have Christmas. The next day he gave me my boy and said, ‘Now you can have Christmas every day.’” She blinked away the dampness in her eyes.
“I think I would have liked Bert.”
“I…I think he would have liked you, too. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.” Just keep talking.
Her lips twisted in an adorable, confused expression. “Did we…?”
“Did we…?”
She rolled her eyes. “Last night. Did we…you know?”
A laugh escaped before he could stop it. “No, we didn’t. Come on, Parker. Don’t you think you’d remember that?”
She lifted one shoulder.
“Trust me, sweetheart. If we had, not only would you remember every blessed moment of it, but you’d think about it for days afterward. Weeks. Maybe even months.”
“Please.” She laughed, and the delightful, feminine sound was like music to his ears.
He couldn’t resist sliding his hand around her waist and teasing her. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
Her fingers curled around his forearm, and her eyes turned midnight blue. The air between them sizzled, as it had last night. Maybe he hadn’t misinterpreted anything. He fought the urge to lean in and kiss her. She licked her lips seductively, jolting him back to reality. She was worried they’d hooked up and he was about to kiss her? Man. He didn’t want to be that guy.
He forced himself to step aside before his desires took over. “Last night you mentioned something about meeting a jerk today. Is that where you’re going?”
“I said that?” She crossed her arms, unfolded them, and crossed them again.
“I guess that means yes?”
“I can’t believe I said that.” She leaned against the car. “What else did I say?”
Not wanting her to face any jerk alone, he circled the car and climbed into the passenger seat. “We can talk on the way there. I’ll get a ride back to town from Hunter.”
Her jaw gaped. “I…Grayson. Really?”
Hooking his seat belt, he leaned across the driver’s seat and smiled up at her. “Want me to drive?”
“What?” She looked at the key fob as if she’d forgotten she was holding it. “No. I’m capable of driving. I just…” She let out a frustrated sigh and climbed into the car, eyeing him as she pushed the start button. The engine purred to life. “You’re really coming with me?”
“You’re really meeting a jerk?”
She looked at him as if he already knew the answer and was fighting the urge to roll her eyes.
“Okay, then.” She shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the garage.
“I didn’t mean to scare you last night.”
She clicked the garage remote, closing the doors behind them. “You didn’t scare me.”
“Okay, so honesty obviously isn’t your thing.” He settled into the leather seat as she pulled onto the road. “I didn’t scare you, and you didn’t try to kiss me.”
She gasped. “I did not!”
He lifted a shoulder, and she gritted her teeth. She was too cute not to toy with, at least a little. “Parker?”
“What?” she snapped. “I did not try to kiss you!”
He laughed. “So, want to go with honesty, or…?”
“Why are you even in this car?” A playful smile curved her lips, and he knew she was coming out from under the embarrassment of thinking they’d slept together. Not to mention that he loved knowing she’d thought of him that way. “Honesty! Of course. You’re—”
“Infuriatingly male? I know, you told me that last night.”
She cringed. “Oh geez, really?”
“Yup. And trust me, you don’t want that to change.”
“You’re big on the whole ‘trust me’ thing, aren’t you?”
“I’m a pretty trustworthy guy. So, why don’t you tell me where we’re headed?”
She ignored the question, and as they drove by Mayo Beach, she pointed to the gazebo across the street that Grayson had built for the competition last summer, and just beyond, the sculpture his brother Hunter had made.
“You and Hunter are so talented,” she said.
“Thanks. So are you.”
She shot him a confused look. “You’ve seen my movies?”
“Well, only the pornographic ones, but that counts, right?”
She punched his arm, and he rubbed it, feigning a pout.
“I never did porn.”
“Now I’m confused. Are we back to the lying game?” he teased.
She punched him again, and he caught her hand and kissed the back of it. He had no idea what had made him do it, but she sighed, and it was just about the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“You’re—”
He cut her off. “Infuriat—”
“No,” she said with a smile. “I mean, you are that, but I was going to say different.”
“Different? Is that good or bad?”
“The jury’s still out.” She slid him a look he couldn’t read.
“Okay, then.” That was better than a cold shoulder. “Tell me about this jerk you’re going to see.”
“Abe Stein. He’s Bert’s brother and only living relative.” Her tone went serious. “They hadn’t spoken for more than fifty years. And I just…They only had each other, and they let that go. I want to try to, I don’t know. Fix it.”
“Does he know you’re coming?”
She shook her head as she pulled onto Route 6 and headed toward Brewster.
“I was afraid he might not see me. He might not even know Bert passed away, so there’s that little bit of heartache I get to dole out. I mean, Bert was pretty well-known in the photography world, so there was a good amount of press when…”
“Then he probably knows.” He was glad he’d come with her. A surprise visit with Bert’s estranged brother sounded like trouble in the making. “What makes you think he wants to fix whatever it is you’re trying to fix?”
“I’m pretty sure he won’t. Bert tried to reconcile with him, and Abe never gave him the time of day. He returned every letter Bert ever sent. But that didn’t stop Bert from hoping they’d work through it one day, and that made it feel important to me. Well, that and the fact that Bert left me a key to his safe-deposit box containing the returned letters, a few pictures, and a single piece of paper with the address of the resort where his brother is living. I didn’t realize the address was for Ocean Edge Resort until later, when I searched it online, and then it took several phone calls to put the pieces together and figure out what it meant. After throwing Bert’s name around to the staff and the manager, Abe’s name finally came up, and the pieces fell into place. But Bert must have wanted me to have all that for a reason, right?”
“I don’t know about that, Parker. Maybe he just left you the letters because it sounds like you were the closest thing he had to family. Do you know anything else about Abe?”
“Just that he’s loaded, and Bert described him as a self-righteous, self-absorbed bastard who swindled their father out of his company and drove his own wife and daughter away years ago.”
“Seriously? You must be a glutton for punishment. Are you sure you want to do this?”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Bert once told me that I reminded him of his niece. He trusted me with this for a reason. I have to do it.”
He wasn’t so sure he liked this Bert guy anymore. What kind of man leaves a woman a trail of meat to a hungry lion? Change of plans. Work could wait. He wasn’t about to let her see this guy alone. “Then I’ll go see him with you.”
“Grayson.” Her shoulders dropped.
He covered her hand with his. “We both know I’m infuriatingly male, so don’t even try to dissuade me. This is what friends do. They support one another, through tequila, tears, and curmudgeonly old jerks.”
Her brows knitted. “I’m not really used to friends like that. You don’t have to.”
“I want to. End of discussion.”
She opened her mouth, and he was sure she was going to make a remark about his male attitude, so he cut her off. “And you’re enticingly female. Deal with it.”
She pulled into the gated community of Ocean Edge Resort and Golf Club, magnifying the difference between the circles in which they traveled. Parker sat up straighter, drew her shoulders back, and inhaled deeply, blowing it out slowly. All of the worry and teasing he’d seen in her eyes slipped away, replaced with a mask of pleasant calm as she morphed into the confident Parker Collins the world knew and loved right before his eyes.
He wondered if she ever got lost between who she really was and the woman she was expected to be.