by Elise Faber
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.” And then I stood there like a dope.
My only consolation was that she was standing there like a dope just like me. For my part, I was transfixed as the twinkling strands of bulbs hanging over the garden flashed across her face, transforming the colors of her eyes like the most intoxicating light show.
She . . . I didn’t know her well enough to say for sure.
But I did feel the heavy weight of her gaze on my body, tracing down and back up, as though her fingers were stroking across my chest, my torso . . . lower.
I don’t know who shifted closer—if it was me who’d taken the first step or her—but suddenly I found my chest against hers, my fingers brushing along the outside of her arm.
My voice was a murmur. “Are you—”
A mistake. Speaking right then. I should have continued with the stroking, kept on with the brushing, the moving closer, then maybe . . .
She straightened, taking a huge step back, kept retreating as she pointed a finger at my chest. “Next time, if a woman starts disrobing, thinking she’s in private, you need to speak up.” Eyes narrowing. “Before she takes off her clothes.”
I bit back a smile. “One might say that a woman who’s disrobing, thinking she’s in private, should, perhaps, confirm that she is in private.”
Thunderclouds sailed through those eyes.
But she didn’t snap back as I’d half-expected.
As—I might as well be honest—I’d half-hoped.
She was gorgeous just standing there as she was, but she was absolutely beautiful while pointing a gun at me like some deadly assassin. I could see the camera angles, picture the shots. If a director could capture that fierceness in her expression and deliver it on screen, it would be a hit.
Especially when it was juxtaposed with this.
The girl next door.
Except, I didn’t want to share her with the world. I didn’t want her face on the big screen or in millions of homes. And suddenly, I thought, to hell with the fact that she was Mags’ friend, screw that she lived several states away.
I wanted her for me.
My feet carried me to her. “Tammy—”
The tink, tink, tink of someone tapping a glass invaded the space, the voices outside the garden quieting, until just one rose above all else.
Maggie’s.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” she said.
Tammy stiffened, slanted one more glance in my direction, before darting from the garden, leaving me with the urge to chase her down, to clock her over the head, and drag her back to my home, caveman style.
I didn’t, obviously.
Because one, I wasn’t a caveman and I’d never been with a woman who’d not wanted me, let alone chased one down who was clearly trying to escape my presence.
And two, because Maggie kept talking.
“But I wanted to extend the biggest thank you to the man who brought Aaron and me together, who was instrumental in our dueling engagement plots—” The crowd laughed here, and I knew I needed to get out there, knew that she would be saying my name. I headed for the exit then stopped.
Because . . . the stockings.
Probably, I should have left them.
But some perverse part of me wanted to touch the silk that had encased those sexy legs.
“My boss, my best friend, and one of the greatest people in all the world . . .”
I snatched them up, darted out of the garden, just in time for Maggie to say, “Talbot!”
Her eyes found mine, joy in their depths, and then she came to me, hugging me tight, her lips to my ear. “Thank you, Tal,” she murmured. “Thank you for everything.”
Light applause greeted her words, and I hugged her back. “You deserve every moment of it.” Then I released her and told the crowd, “Let’s all have a drink for the future bride and groom’s happy marriage.”
Louder applause this time.
She nudged my shoulder.
“You always do know how to play the crowd.”
I kissed the top of her head, surreptitiously glancing around for Tammy. She was in a circle of conversation, just a few feet away from us, and glaring at me.
Which made me smile.
Her lips flattened further. But her eyes . . . in those pretty hazel eyes there was heat.
Oh yes, I needed to find a way to make this woman mine.
Chapter Four
Tammy
I could have stayed in the small cottage on the back of Artie and Pierce’s property where the party had been held. They’d offered.
Yup, freaking movie stars had offered.
But I’d declined, even though Maggie had already moved out.
She’d been staying to save up money to buy a place in the expensive Los Angeles real estate market, but considering she was going to marry Aaron—who co-owned a series of successful wineries located all over the world, each with a house for them to use on property, Mags hadn’t needed the space.
So now she had a nest egg and houses around the world.
Who could complain?
Certainly, not my blissfully happy childhood friend. The same friend who’d left our small town and built a successful life for herself. We’d only just begun to reconnect, and I was glad for it—and not because of the Hollywood connection. Maggie was a good person, and I hadn’t had too many good people in my life.
It was nice to add another.
Still, none of that, Hollywood or good people or tempting digs or otherwise, were why I wasn’t staying in the guest house.
Nope.
This was my first time visiting L.A. The first time I’d been to California.
So, I was making the most of it.
I had all of the tourist sites planned out, starting with a trip to The Happiest Place on Earth in the morning. Yup, I was hitting the amusement park, and I was going to gorge myself on churros and popcorn and soft pretzels and ice cream. I was going to pay exorbitant amounts of money for souvenirs and had already purchased an entrance ticket that cost in the realm of what I’d spent on my first car. I was set, and the best part?
My hotel was right across the street.
I couldn’t wait to spend the entire day walking around and seeing the sights and experiencing every attraction until my feet felt ready to fall off. And then, only then, would I go back to my hotel room and collapse into bed.
I couldn’t freaking wait.
But first, I needed to get to my car.
I found Maggie, gave her a quick hug, during which she reminded me of my upcoming dinner three nights from then.
“I’m so glad you came,” she said, holding my hands tight after I’d promised I would be there.
“I needed the vacation,” I told her. “This gave me the perfect excuse.” I lightly squeezed her hands. “I’m so happy for you both. I’m glad you found your way back to each other.”
Mags hadn’t just left Darlington when she’d gone out to chase her dreams. She’d left the boy who loved her. She’d left Aaron.
And that road back to each other hadn’t been the least bit easy.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” I whispered back.
I waved to Aaron, picked up my purse and coat from the bag check area, and then meandered my way down the long driveway filled with cars. My feet absolutely ached, and my legs were chilly, sans stockings—which I just remembered I’d left in the garden.
For a moment, I debated going back and retrieving them.
But then I’d need to weave back through the guests and potentially have to explain why I’d taken them off in the first place, and that would make for an awkward conversation—
Which wasn’t why I was avoiding going back.
Nope. That had to do with putting as much distance between myself and one Talbot Green.
The man with the golden eyes was dangerous to my psyche.
He made those fantasies
want to be real.
And that was the real fantasy, because they never would be.
With that lovely, cynical thought, I shrugged into my coat, pulled the keys to my rental out, and continued walking. I’d parked outside the gate, a long way down the road. The guest list was quite extensive, and I hadn’t dared to navigate my way through the Bentleys and Range Rovers.
Also, yay for a long walk in these freaking heels.
I should have packed sneakers in my purse. That would have made it so I at least had one useful thing in there.
Not totally fair, because I truly couldn’t live without my lip balm—yes, I was a police officer; no, I hadn’t completely forgotten how to be a woman—and that was inside my black leather bag. But, aside from my ID and my cell phone, there wasn’t anything else useful.
Except . . . for the snacks I always packed.
A woman never knew when she might get hangry.
I almost laughed out loud.
This was so like me. Make an all-out declaration—even a mental one—and then find all the ways to undermine it.
I can’t take off work to go to Maggie’s engagement party in California.
But they have Disneyland. And beaches. And Death Valley. And—
Okay, I’ll take a vacation out of the bank of days I never actually use, dip into my savings because I can get mouse ears and see some cacti.
So really, the last thing I needed was to go back and encounter Talbot.
It would start off with something like, He’s one of the biggest movie stars on the planet, I can’t possibly think that he might be interested in me. To he seems really nice and is a good friend to Maggie. To let me pledge to this man my undying love, no matter that he’ll probably shred my heart into tiny little pieces in the process.
See?
Dangerous man.
Or perhaps, I was the dangerous one. As in being dangerous to myself, being so damned tempted to undermine the safeguards I’d put into place.
Yup. That, too.
Rolling my shoulders, I approached the gate and waved at the security guard. “Can I get out? My car’s down the road.”
He nodded, cracked the gate enough so I could slip out.
“Hey.” Fingers caught my arm, and I resisted the urge to immediately knock them off, instead turning to see Talbot.
My body knew his, even before I recognized his voice, heat curling in my abdomen, flaring out to my fingertips, making my breath catch in my lungs, my lips tingle. “Hi,” I said, keeping my tone formal through pure dint of strength. “Did you need something?”
A smile that threatened to melt my bones from the inside out. “Yeah.”
I lifted my brows, waited.
“Well, you going to tell me what that is?” I asked with impatience when he just kept looking at me.
“Yeah,” he said again.
And still just staring at me.
I spun to leave, this time my movement knocking his hand free.
“A ride,” he said, just as I stepped through the gate.
My feet froze, and I slowly turned back. “A ride?” I repeated. He nodded. “To where?” I asked suspiciously.
“My home.”
Alarm bells, all sorts of alarm bells began to blare in my mind.
“Didn’t you drive here?”
A shrug. “I think I drank too much. An officer such as yourself wouldn’t want an inebriated driver on the road, would you?”
I knew he was playing me.
But I couldn’t think of anything to say that might get me out of spending however long it might take to drive this man home, so in the end, I just nodded and started walking again, my heels click-clicking on the pavement.
And Talbot walked silently next to me, not saying another word. Yet I couldn’t help but continue to peek out of the corner of my eye and watch him as he glanced up at the sky, the clouds making most of it hazy, the stars dreamily blinking behind the gray swathe. The moon was beautiful, though, shining golden and bright through the drape of atmosphere, and I could understand why he kept looking up.
“It reminds me of home,” I whispered.
“The sky?” he asked.
I nodded. “It’s so big sometimes, the moon so bright, that it’s easy to get lost in the glimmers, to try to track every one of them with my eyes.” A chuckle. “Even though I think it would take me a lifetime to attempt it.”
He was quiet for several moments, then, “On nights like this, when the smog clears and there’s nothing but the night sky, even cloudy, I remember being a little kid and feeling the same way.”
A little kid.
He hadn’t meant it as an insult, I knew that much. He wasn’t a jerk, wouldn’t intentionally make me feel bad.
But it did all the same.
Because it was another reminder that I was a backward non-Hollywood type, thinking and feeling the way this man had when he was a child. And I hated that I felt that way, that I felt insecure. I knew who I was, and I was fine with that.
I cleared my throat. “How far away do you live?”
Silence.
Then fingers on my arm, not holding me in place, but brushing lightly over the back of my arm. “What did I say?” he asked.
I blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Those fingers wrapped around my wrist, exerted the barest amount of pressure. “I hurt your feelings.”
Laughter, forced, escaped my lips. “No, you didn’t. I’m just tired and ready to be in my hotel room.”
“Hmm.”
But he didn’t say anything further as we approached my rental and I bleeped the locks. I started to reach for the handle, only his hand was there before mine, and my fingers brushed the hot skin there as he tugged the door open.
I have to admit that I froze.
I wasn’t used to men opening doors for me. I did that myself, and it wasn’t like my colleagues were dashing in front of me to let me into my squad car.
“Did you . . . want to get in?” he asked softly, making me realize that I’d been standing there making a fool out of myself. Again.
Ugh.
I straightened my shoulders, sank down in the driver’s seat, and I made a promise right there and then that there would be no more insecurities. I’d had my couple of hours of discomfort and self-doubt, and that was more than enough. Time to pull my shit together.
And I was doing that . . . right around the moment Talbot leaned over me and buckled my seat belt.
All the air froze in my lungs, a large inhale that captured his spicy scent inside me. Soft fingers on my cheek drove my exhale forth, losing that breath, bringing my lips very close to his.
“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.
More breath sliding out of me. My heart thundering in my chest, my lips parting, and . . . then he was gone.
Or not so much gone as out of the car, crossing around in front of it before lowering himself into the passenger’s seat.
I cleared my throat, turned on the ignition, then handed him my phone.
“Plug in your address?”
He took it. “What’s the code to unlock it?”
I tilted the screen so it captured my face and made it so he could access the apps.
“Privacy is important to you, then?” he asked, his fingers tapping.
“Considering I don’t know you?” I returned with a raised brow. “Yes, privacy is important to me, especially with men who try to see unsuspecting women in their underwear.”
A chuckle. “I thought we’d covered this already. You were the one bringing the unwanted stripping.”
Unwanted.
Ouch.
“But certainly not unappreciated,” he said, lifting the phone and setting it in the cradle that was clipped to the air vent. “Just not my preferred way to meet a beautiful woman.”
I snorted. Oh, that was rich.
“Yeah?” I said, memorizing the first couple of steps of the navigation before check
ing for traffic and pulling out onto the road. “What’s your preferred way?”
“A quiet dinner at my house, followed by a walk through the garden.”
My eyes darted to his, and I bit back another snort. “What, are you a hundred?”
His lips tipped up, one dimple appearing in the cheek I could see. “No,” he said. “I’m thirty-six. What about you?”
“I’m . . . not interested in getting to know you any further.”
“Ah, I see.”
“What do you see?” I asked, navigating the car around a winding turn.
“That it’s rude to ask a lady her age.” He shifted in his seat, and I could feel him looking at me, even though I couldn’t take my eyes off the road to look at him. I did, however, roll them, because . . . seriously? It’s rude to ask a lady her age? “Also,” he murmured before I could go too far down that particular tangent, folding his hands on his lap, “I happen to think that dinner and a walk are a perfectly normal way to get to know someone.”
“What about the movies? Or going out to eat? Or—” I stopped, grasping that this man probably couldn’t easily do either of those things. “Never mind.”
“What?” he asked.
“I just realized that you probably can’t really go out much and meet people, huh?”
He was quiet as I drove for a few minutes.
Then he said, “No, I can’t head to the movies all that often. Every once in a while, depending on where I’m at, I can sneak into a theater, but definitely not here in L.A. In fact,” he added. “It’s part of why I’m moving soon. The paparazzi are just all over my house.”
A pang of sympathy slid through me.
“That has to be hard,” I said, “not being able to go where you want, when you want.”
He shrugged, much more cavalier than I would have been if my life had been limited in such a manner. “That’s the price you pay to be in movies,” he said. “I’m lucky that I’ve found the success that I have, considering the way the industry has changed in the last few years with streaming. A lot of that is due to Mags, though.” I caught another flash of his dimple. “She took me on when she didn’t have to, and I’ll be grateful to her forever.”
“Mags is a great person,” I agreed. “I’m glad she’s found a job that makes her happy.”