Changing Roles

by Melanie Moreland

  Never happening again.

  The sound of her nervous voice calling for Everett broke through my thoughts as he climbed toward the landing. I followed behind him but waited at the bottom, anxious. A few minutes later he appeared, chuckling.

  “What?”

  “I’ll let you decide. My sister is looking rather”—he grinned and winked— “smashing, I think you’d say.” He turned his head. “Come on, Beaker! Show yourself!”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  I gaped at the vision that appeared at the top of the stairs, one hand on her hip as she glared at Everett.

  I blinked as I took her in.

  Where was my fresh-faced, pink-cheeked Shelby?

  A woman stood there who resembled her, but who was so beyond beautiful and sexy, my throat hurt trying to stop the wolf whistle that wanted to escape.

  Bloody hell. She was beyond smashing.

  She was exquisite.

  Her dress was long and red, her bare shoulders glittering under the lights from the crystals that rested over them, her skin gleaming. Her waist was cinched tight with the same glittering beads.

  And her hair.

  Long, dark tresses rippled freely over her shoulders, swaying as she walked down the stairs, one hand clutching the railing as her other one bunched and unbunched the deep-red fabric of her dress nervously. Whatever Lily had done with her makeup made her blue eyes seem huge in her face, and her lips were entirely kissable with the red stain on them.

  I blinked.

  What was I thinking?

  Kissable?

  Shelby?

  Everett’s sharp elbow into my side made me exhale hard. “Liam,” he hissed. “Quit eye-fucking my sister.”

  I glared at him, keeping my reply low so I couldn’t be overheard. “I am not eye-fucking—” I stopped, shaking my head.

  Holy crap. I was.

  What was I doing? It was Shelby. Dressed up or not, it was still my best friend, Shelby. I didn’t eye-fuck my best friend.

  But he was right. I was doing exactly that. She was stunning.

  I frowned at him, refusing to admit it. He was much bigger than I was and could hurt me easily. Manager or not. “Am not.”

  I stepped forward, reaching for Shelby’s hand as she drew closer. Gently, I pulled it away from her dress.

  “Shelby,” I breathed out. “Thank you.”

  She looked shy as Lily grinned beside me, almost giddy with glee. “Isn’t she perfect?”

  I squeezed Shelby’s hand in reassurance. “She is.”

  “You look amazing, Liam.”

  I disagreed. Beside her, I was plain. She was the amazing one tonight.

  Lily suddenly clucked and lifted Shelby’s hand, taking something off her wrist. “Sorry, Shelby. The bracelet doesn’t work. The gold doesn’t go with the silver crystals. I don’t have anything silver with me.”

  Shelby shrugged. “It’s fine, Lily. I’m not much for jewelry anyway.”

  Lily sighed. “I wanted one show-off piece.” She held up the gold cuff. “This simply won’t work, though.”

  Inspiration struck, and I held up my finger. “Wait!” I hurried to the den, returning in a few minutes with a small case. I opened it for Lily. “Will this work?”

  She clapped her hands. “Liam, it’s perfect! Where did you get it?”

  I grinned as I lifted the shining antique bracelet from the case. “It was my nan’s. My grandmother’s,” I added in case they weren’t familiar with the term Nan.

  Shelby gasped when I took her hand and snapped the bracelet on her wrist; the tiny diamonds glittered under the lights, matching her shoulders in their brilliance. I loved how it looked on her. Like it was meant to be there.

  Her eyes were wide as she looked between it and me. “Liam, I can’t—”

  “You can. And you are. Lily is right. It’s perfect for you. Your outfit, I meant.”

  “I’ll guard it with my life,” she said, running her fingers over the intricate designs in the metal.

  “One more thing,” Lily chirped as she tucked a deep-red square into my tuxedo jacket pocket. “Now you look like you belong together.”

  For some reason, I agreed with her statement. I looked over at Shelby again, unable to take my eyes off her. The heels Lily had Shelby in made her taller, but she still fit perfectly under my arm as I tucked her into my side. “Ready?”

  She swallowed nervously. “Ready.”

  I kissed the top of her head, inhaling her calming scent deeply. “Thank you for doing this. I’ll be right beside you, Shelby.”

  “I think that’s my line, Liam. I’m here for you, remember?”

  I tightened my hold on her. “Quiet, Shelby. We’ll look after each other, okay?”

  Her smile could melt icebergs. Big ones.

  “Okay.”

  I had to look away before Everett saw me.

  I was eye-fucking her again.

  Bugger.

  The crowds were huge. Security lined the red carpet, holding them back. I looked out the tinted window at the crowd and shuddered, fighting the panic, knowing I had to signal Everett when I was ready and to open the door.

  The screams were loud.

  It was the screaming that hit me the hardest all the time. There were times I wanted to weep with the noise level constantly pounding at my ears. I hated this part of my life.

  Shelby tugged on my hand, distracting me.

  She nodded reassuringly at me and silently glanced to where our hands were entwined. I looked down and sighed, releasing some tension. Our hands were so tightly clasped, I couldn’t tell where her hand ended and mine began. It made me feel better.

  “Everett and Mark are here. I’m with you, Liam,” she murmured soothingly.

  I didn’t care if I sounded like a child. I needed to hear her say it. “You won’t let go?”

  “I promise. I won’t let go.”

  I kissed her hand. “Let’s do this.”

  The screaming increased vociferously when I stepped out of the car. Everett helped Shelby out first, and she turned, holding her hand out for me as I stepped into the line of vision. I hesitated before grabbing her hand and dragging her to my side. Her hand wasn’t enough. I needed to feel her as close to me as possible. I wrapped my arm around her waist, holding her tightly as we made our way down the carpet, refusing to release my hold on her even when I stopped to speak to a few reporters. Everett and Mark trailed close, making sure I didn’t stop long, and we made it to the door in record time. I managed to avoid the big question of who the beautiful brunette was I was holding to my side, and Shelby avoided the camera by turning her head, allowing her hair to hide most of her face. Everett told me what to say, but I was still overwhelmed by her and I forgot. I simply winked, saying I wasn’t ready to share that yet. I thought I was brilliant. Everett smacked my head when we got in the door, and I growled at him. The git messed with the hair. You never messed with the hair. Took me forever to make it look like I didn’t give a fuck about it. Luckily, Shelby smoothed it back in place before she smacked him for me. I liked that.

  “You okay?” she asked anxiously, her bewitching eyes scanning my face.

  I blinked again.

  Bewitching eyes?

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I wondered if I had accidentally doubled up on my Xanax. My head was certainly not reacting properly. Especially toward Shelby.

  But the red carpet had been easy. With Shelby tucked into my side, I had been calm and not once had I felt the usual panic.

  It had to be Shelby.

  Or the Xanax.

  I looked down at her.

  No. It was her. It was definitely her. I beamed at her and brushed a kiss on her forehead, ignoring the flashes I could see from outside.

  “Thanks to you, yes. I’m good.”

  She beamed at me, those lovely eyes glinting with relief.

  Crap.

  There went a few more icebergs.

  “Is this almos
t over?” I mumbled to Everett. It had been a long night. We’d done dinner, the speeches, the auction, and all the bloody press and fan stuff I had been told to do. And true to her promise, Shelby was beside me the whole time, a constant balm for my frazzled nerves. She made it almost fun. Her droll comments as we walked around the room kept me distracted, and I was grateful Carly had canceled. She was nowhere near as entertaining as Shelby. Or as lovely.

  He chuckled dryly. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been so, ah, difficult the last few weeks, Liam. The studio…” His voice trailed off.

  “The studio can kiss my arse,” I muttered.

  “Oscar,” Shelby admonished.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at her. Instead, I deflected. “Did I tell you how beautiful you are tonight?”

  Now, she rolled her eyes at me. “Nice one. But the diversion didn’t work. Behave.”

  I laughed. She’d made me happy all night with her smiles and teasing. Not an iceberg in sight.

  “Liam.”

  I looked up and grinned, the first genuine one of the night for someone other than Shelby. I stood and extended my hand. “Douglas! You’re back!”

  He smiled in return, shaking my hand. “Finally. What a shoot.”

  “You’ve been gone for almost five months.” I indicated the empty chair beside Shelby. “Join us.”

  He sat, introducing himself after he greeted Everett.

  I laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, Shelby. I’ve told you about him, but you haven’t met Douglas. You hadn’t been with me long when he left on an extended shoot. This is my cousin, Douglas Wright. He’s a producer. We grew up together in England.”

  Douglas chuckled. “And he does mean that literally. After my parents died, I lived with Liam and his family. I was twelve, and this little bugger was five and refused to leave me alone.” He grinned. “But we were good mates and got on really well. As he grew up, we became friends. I actually missed him when I came here to make my fortune, and I have to admit I was glad when he came over as well. He’s like a brother.” He smirked. “A younger, not so good-looking brother.”

  I grinned at his explanation. Shelby had heard many stories of our younger years back in England. He had been a great role model, and as he stated, eventually a real friend.

  “Hello, Douglas.”

  He shook her hand. “Hello—it’s a pleasure.” He winked at me teasingly. “Your prettiest girl yet, Liam.”

  Shelby rolled her eyes. “I’m not one of his girls. I’m his housekeeper.”

  Douglas’s eyes widened.

  “Shelby is my friend, and Everett’s sister. She did me a huge favor and attended with me this evening.” I was quick to step in and explain. I didn’t want Shelby to be thought of as my housekeeper. Of all the things she was to me, that was the least important.

  “So, she’s not your housekeeper?” he asked confused.

  “She is, but she’s my friend first,” I insisted.

  “Sister second,” Everett piped in.

  “And housekeeper third. Got it.” Douglas nodded, reclining in his chair and winking at Shelby. “A triple threat.”

  Shelby dipped her head, her cheeks coloring slightly. I slipped my hand into hers. It felt better there.

  Douglas picked up his drink. “Now tell me what you’ve been up to while I was slaving away in Europe.”

  Everett took pity on me and had the car pull around back, allowing Shelby and me to slip into it with little fuss. The front of the building was still mobbed, and I didn’t want to face that again. I was calm, but I didn’t want to push it. He and Mark took the other car, so it was only Shelby and me in the back seat.

  I let my head fall back onto the headrest in relief. Peace. I lifted Shelby’s hand and kissed it gratefully. “Ta, Beaker.”

  She fiddled with the cuff on her wrist, then held it out to me. “You need this back.”

  I took it, slipping it into my pocket. She had been tense about it all night, her eyes drifting to her wrist, making sure it was there all evening. “Relax. I told you it’s insured. And I knew it was safe.”

  “It’s safer now,” she insisted. “It’s your responsibility.”

  “I think it was fine on your wrist,” I responded, letting my eyes drift shut.

  She sighed. “I see why you hate these things, but it was worth it.”

  I cracked my eye open. “Yeah?” I grinned. “You liked seeing me all dressed up and hot-looking? Working the room and oozing British charm?”

  She snorted. “No.”

  I sat up straight. “Bloody hell, Shelby. You don’t think I’m hot?”

  She patted my leg. “Like an inferno, Liam.”

  I sniffed. “Better.” I rested my head back into the cool leather. “Did you have a good time?”

  “I enjoyed spending the evening with you, but otherwise, not really.”

  “Why then was it worth it?”

  She sighed and relaxed into the seat beside me. “I got the draft problem solved. Worth the sore feet and listening to the inane screams.”

  Then she giggled. An unusual, endearing sound she rarely made. “Seriously, Oscar. All those women need to get a life. You’re not all that and a bag of chips you know. If they only knew the suave outside was covering up a git, things would change.”

  I tried not to laugh. But it was a lost cause. I started to guffaw. Loudly.

  I wasn’t all that and a bag of chips.

  To Shelby, I was simply Liam. A slightly goofy, apparently leaning-toward-pudgy, strange-sounding Brit who had an abiding affection for baked goods and turkey sandwiches. And her.

  She knew me. The real me.

  And she still loved me.

  I was good with that.

  “Thanks for the reality check, Shelby.”

  She groaned as she unstrapped her shiny sandals. “Anytime, Oscar. God, my feet hurt.”

  Grinning, I lifted her feet into my lap, clucking at the pinched look to her toes. She loved it when I rubbed her feet while we were watching movies, and from the look of them right now, they needed my talented fingers. “You should have told Lily no to the shoes.” I shook my head as I started rubbing the sore-looking flesh.

  She sighed contently. “These were the compromise. You should have seen the death traps she wanted me to wear.”

  “Tell her lower heels next time.”

  “Next time?”

  I nodded hopefully. “You were brilliant tonight. I haven’t been that calm at an event—ever. I was hoping you’d be willing to accompany me again.”

  “Add me to your roster, you mean?”

  I huffed out a long breath. “My number one spot, Shelby. You made tonight so much easier for me. You have no idea what a difference having you with me made.”

  She bit her lip. “What about the press? The questions? I’m your housekeeper, Liam.”

  “You’re way more than that. We’re friends. We’ll talk to Ev and figure it out. I don’t care about that stuff. I just want you beside me.”

  “Do I get a foot rub after the hell is over?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  I smirked as I worked on her feet.

  “I’ll think about it” was Shelby’s code for yes.

  She couldn’t say no to me any more than I could say it to her.

  And I was good with that.

  7

  Liam

  I stumbled down the stairs the next morning, yawning, and glanced at the clock in the hall. Not morning, really. It was almost noon. Shelby had let me sleep late.

  I grimaced as I heard the sound of voices and merriment coming from the kitchen. That wasn’t Everett’s deep tone I could hear, but it was familiar. I entered the kitchen, surprised to find Douglas sitting at the table, talking to Shelby, who was busy at the counter. She looked up and gave me a sweet smile.

  I smiled back, taking her in. Gone were the glamorous gown and makeup. She was back in her yoga pants, had on one of my
too-large shirts, and her hair swept up into a ponytail again.

  Yet, somehow, she’d never looked as lovely to me as she did right at that moment.

  “Hey, Oscar.”

  I shuffled over, grabbing the cup of coffee she was holding out for me, and kissed her cheek.

  “Hey, Shelby.” I took a deep sip and turned toward to the table. “Douglas.”

  “Sleep well, Liam?” he asked, amused, looking at his watch. “Rather a late start to the day.”

  I scowled at him. “I was up earlier for a long run. I was reading scripts in my room,” I informed him haughtily. “I didn’t know you were here to see me, or I would have come down sooner.”

  Beside me, Shelby chuckled under her breath. As she handed me a plate with a bagel on it, she leaned up on her toes, and I tilted my head to the side to better hear what she had to say. I liked her warm breath floating over my neck as she spoke.

  “Being chased by a giant peanut butter cookie in your dream is not going for a long run. I did come to get you, but you were snoring so loudly, I let you sleep.”

  I glared at her. I never should have told her about that dream. She’d held it over my head ever since and never let me eat a dozen peanut butter chocolate chip cookies before retiring for the night again.

  And even more important, I didn’t snore.

  “Shut it, woman.”

  She bit her lip to stop from grinning, and I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her cheek again. “You’ll pay for that later.” I dropped my voice further, putting my lips to her ear and flexing my fingers against her ribs where I knew she was ticklish. “My wee lass.”

  She giggled. She loved the fact that I sometimes imitated my Scottish mum, and I loved the fact that when I did, it made her smile. Occasionally, she teased me about my “muddled” accent—a mixed-up jumble of Scottish and English rolled into my own unique sound I liked to use to make her laugh. And when she did, I would have to tickle her as I prattled on, laying the sound on even thicker, making her laugh even harder. It was one of our things we did. Like foot rubs and movie nights.