CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Carrie had been on red carpets before but this was the first time any of the cameras would be pointed at her. Not at her specifically, of course. Just in her general direction.
When she was standing next to Maxwell Hayes.
Always before she’d been with Paige and they hadn’t had the laser focus on them that she could expect walking the carpet with Max. People were going to be looking at her, judging her, and they weren’t going to be gentle about it. She would be held up next to Max’s ex-girlfriends for comparison and chances were she would be found wanting, at least in the looks department.
Which is why she’d gone all out and seen a stylist about her dress and hair tonight. Lisa had been friendly but she’d also been a genius. The red dress Carrie ultimately chose wasn’t anything she normally would have worn. First, it was red. Her mother had always told her redheads didn’t wear that so she’d avoided that color like the plague her entire life. Then the first dress Lisa had pulled out had been this crimson number and Carrie had almost run from the building. The stylist had patiently explained it was all in the shade of red that made the difference, and she’d certainly been right.
The dress was deceptively simple, off the shoulder with a ruched skirt that ended a few inches above her knees. A fashion genius, Lisa had accessorized the outfit with gold heels and bold jewelry. A sleek ponytail swept her long, thick hair off her neck and kept it under control while artfully applied makeup accentuated her best features. Looking in the mirror it was like a stranger was staring back at her.
A woman that just might be able to hold her own at the charity event tonight. A spray of perfume in her cleavage and a tube of lipstick in her tiny clutch purse and she was ready to go.
Remembering Paige’s exercises to make herself calm, Carrie listened to the thud of her heartbeat as she closed her eyes and pictured a sandy beach with the rhythmic waves rolling in, one after the other under the warm sun. Seagulls soared overhead, dipping and circling, finally diving down…and stealing her hot dog right out of her hand.
Okay, that didn’t go so well. Puppies. She’d think about puppies. Cute little balls of fur that barked and rang doorbells.
Puppies don’t ring doorbells.
But movie stars do. When she opened the door she almost couldn’t catch her breath. Max looked devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, his dark hair tamed into submission and combed back from his chiseled face. His light blue eyes looked even bluer tonight but that might also have to do with the fact that he wasn’t angry or frustrated with her. For the past two days they’d gotten along quite well.
“Don’t you look gorgeous,” he said in that smooth as silk accent that could send her pulse into overdrive. “Twirl for me, love. Let me see that dress.”
Of course, it was the dress. She dutifully turned in a circle, letting him see every side of the outfit. He whistled, his gaze warm and appreciative. Damn her fair skin, she couldn’t help the blush that crawled its way up her chest all the way to her eyebrows. Now her hair, skin, and dress were a matched set.
“You look stunning. The paps are going to love you.” He held open the door for her. “Are you ready to go?”
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”
She locked the door behind her and followed him to the car parked at the curb. It was a simple fundraiser tonight so he’d refused a limousine. A car service would do just as well. They could drink without worrying about driving themselves home later.
He helped her into the back seat and sat beside her as the vehicle smoothly pulled into traffic. It wouldn’t take long to get to their destination – a posh hotel in the center of the city.
Carefully she focused on her breathing, hoping to slow her galloping heart. Breathe in for ten seconds, breathe out for ten. Repeat.
“You’re going to do fine.” His deep baritone brought her out of her reverie. “I’ll be right next to you the entire time and I won’t leave your side all evening. I promise.”
Fidgeting in the seat, her fingers tightened on her purse. “I’ve done this before with Paige. I know what to do, I swear. I’m just a little nervous.”
His hand hovered over hers for a moment as if unsure but then he placed it on top of hers, warm and reassuring. “It’s completely natural to be nervous. There will lots of attention on us tonight. I haven’t walked a red carpet with anyone since Alana.”
“We’ll be in the papers tomorrow,” she said more to herself than him. “They’ll be speculating as to who I am.”
“We’re not keeping that a secret. If they ask me your name I’ll tell them. My publicist has the bio you put together and can disseminate that information if needed. The idea tonight is to keep the frenzy to a minimum which means acting calm and matter of fact. We met last fall, which is the truth, and we’ve become closer as we’ve spent more time together. Also the truth. The less we embellish on the story the better. If we’re not over the top, hopefully they won’t be either.”
She looked up at him. Really looked this time. “This doesn’t bother you at all? All those people looking at you, yelling your name, the flashbulbs in your eyes?”
His smile was gentle and he squeezed her hand. “This is such a small part of my life, honestly. It’s the work that truly matters, not the fame that comes with it.” His smile widened into wicked grin. “The money isn’t bad though. I quite like that part.”
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” she laughed. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all. This Max was lovely to be around. “I do feel for you sometimes though. You wanted to ride The Eye with me that night but you couldn’t. I think that’s sad.”
“Every vocation has its good and bad parts. As my mum and dad often say to me when I start complaining, someday all this will be gone and no one will give a rat’s arse what I’m doing or who I’m dating. Fame is fickle and it can be gone tomorrow. Enjoy it while you can.”
“Enjoy it,” she echoed, wondering if that were possible. Max didn’t seem to be reveling in it. On the contrary, he appeared to be tolerating it. “Is that what you’re doing?”
He looked out the car window, the skyline of London glittering against the night sky.
“I’m trying to enjoy it.”
“Because you love being an actor.”
He nodded. “I do.”
The vehicle came to a stop and that meant it was time for this showmance to really get started. Everything they’d done up to this point, the dinners, the walk in the park yesterday, had all been a rehearsal for this moment. The car door opened and she could see the red carpet, hear the crowd, and see the flash of cameras. For a moment her heart stuttered but she sucked air into her lungs and pasted a smile on her face. He got out of the car and held out his hand. She took it but didn’t exit right away. When he bent down to see what was wrong, she only had a moment to tell him what was on her mind. The crowd was going nuts for him, screaming his name.
She leaned forward so she could whisper in his ear, words only for him.
“I’m going to do the very best I can for you, Max. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
The brilliant smile she received in answer sealed their deal. His fingers closed around hers and she stepped from the car as a wall of shouts reached her ears. She didn’t know what would happen tomorrow or next week but tonight they were a team.
* * *
The champagne flowed, the music played, and Carrie was a damn good dancer. He should have known she’d be able to move with the music, her dress swirling around her hips, a big smile on her beautiful face. She’d looked gorgeous tonight, glamorous and sexy, so different from the somewhat uptight, buttoned-up woman she could be at times. Tonight she was like a flame in that scarlet dress and he was the helpless moth who was destined to be consumed in the fire.
He grabbed two more flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to her. They’d worked up a thirst dancing and the chilled, golden liquid slid down his parched throat. She looked up at him from under her lashes as she sipped at her champagne.
“Thank you,” she said huskily so only he could hear. “You made tonight easier than I thought it would be.”
He inclined his head formally but a knot had taken up residence in his chest. Her simple words of thanks were in stark contrast to the effusive compliments – most undeserved – that he’d received from admirers tonight. Usually female. Carrie never felt the need to flatter him or stroke his ego, no matter how much he might want her to. She was too straightforward and honest for that.
“It was my pleasure,” he replied instead. “You did an amazing job with the photographers, as if you’d been posing all your life. You’re a natural.”
Giggling, she shook her head. “Not in the least. I’m just glad I had you to hold my hand.”
That hand was currently holding her glass, the nails short but manicured in the same shade of red as her dress. The fingers were delicate but capable. This was no woman-for-show. Carrie was a professional, the mighty engine behind Paige’s literary career.
“I’ll always be there to hold your hand,” he said gallantly, taking the other in his and raising it to his lips. The guests would get an eyeful and that was the point, but it didn’t hurt that her skin was like satin.
Other women might have swooned but not Carrie. She didn’t roll her eyes but he could tell she wanted to. Clearly her ex hadn’t played the suitor, courting and wooing her more tender affections.
“Someone kissed a blarney stone,” she whispered with a smile, her gaze roving the room, probably gauging how many eyes were on them at the moment. “Do women usually fall for that?”
He kept his expression deadpan. “Always.”
Laughter like music bubbled from her full lips. “Then you’re overdue for someone who doesn’t believe a word you say.”
He set his champagne glass on the table next to them and then took hers from her unresisting fingers, setting it next to his own before taking her hand in his. “And you’re overdue for another dance. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
They might not be able to go more than a day or two without arguing but on the dance floor they were truly in tune. He whirled her around, her skirt lifting slightly, showing off the creamy soft skin of her thighs and making his mouth water. Reminding himself that this was a business arrangement and not a date did nothing to cool his admiration. Carrie was, after all, a beautiful woman and he was a man.
A man who had been without a woman for too long. He needed to remedy that but not with her. Business. Make believe. She barely tolerated him, so making love with him was out of the question. He almost snorted at his thoughts. When was the last time he’d made love to anyone? He couldn’t even remember. He had sex. Raunchy, rowdy sex. Making love was what other couples did when they had actual feelings for each other.
The music changed to something slow and sultry, the lights dimming overhead. Max pulled her closer, their bodies brushing with each step, driving him calmly and deliberately out of his mind with desire. Everything about her tonight made him want her as more than a friend or business partner. He wanted to be her lover. To hear her say his name at a moment of passion. To see her face flushed with pure pleasure, her hair a fiery river of silk on his pillow.
Whoa. Not going to happen. The only thing sleeping with Carrie would bring were complications galore. He doubted she was the casual sex type and that’s all he was. While the pleasure they could give one another was enough for him, it wouldn’t be enough for her. She would want love and commitment.
“Are you okay?” she whispered, looking up at him with concern. She must have felt his body tense as thoughts of her calling him a jerk ran through his mind.
“I’m good but it’s about time to leave, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “Whatever you want to do. This is your show.”
It was and he’d do well to remember it. If he stayed business-like he’d be in control of this romantic farce but if he gave in and let his baser instincts take over…she’d be in charge. He couldn’t allow himself to be at her – or anyone’s – mercy like that. Not again.