“So?”
“I manage your schedule, and there’s nothing on the agenda for tonight.”
Ah. Busted. Sort of.
“Can’t a guy go for a drive in his car?”
“A guy can, but a certain Sexiest Man Alive who hates driving around LA for fear of the paparazzi…”
Ha-ha, she’s given me the perfect excuse. “That’s why I’m taking the Tesla. To stay incognito.” Penny rolls her eyes and refuses to engage further, so, of course, I prompt her. “What?”
“Boss, you pick your cars based on how much noise they make… and you can keep denying it as long as you want, but I know something is up with that car.” She pauses and smirks. “I can only hope it’s about a girl. I like her already.”
I give her my no-comment face and, as soon as she leaves—still sporting that annoying, know-it-all grin—I go upstairs to shower.
An hour later—thirty minutes to get ready plus thirty minutes of LA traffic—I’m pulling up in front of Lana’s house.
To be polite, I should walk to her door, ring the bell, and wait for her on the doorstep. But too many people are still walking around and the sun hasn’t set yet—I should hope, since I’ve planned a sunset date—so getting out of the car is definitely too big of a risk. What if someone recognizes me?
Instead, I text Lana to let her know that I’m here.
She comes out of the house five minutes later wearing a bright, flowy dress in a colored flower print. Her hair is loose and, as it catches the late-afternoon light, the dark brown shines with a hint of chocolate undertones.
Risky or not, I’m not completely ungracious, so at least I get out of the Tesla to open the car door for her. The gesture earns me a big smile and a quick, hello-you hug.
As Lana wraps her arms around my chest, I inhale a fresh, floral, fruity fragrance which goes perfectly with her dress. She smells like a blooming flower garden.
Lana lets go of me and smiles again. “Thank you for picking me up.”
“Are you kidding? No problem at all.”
I close the car door for her and quickly regain the driver’s seat, keeping my head low the entire time lest someone spot me.
As I pull away from the curb, there’s a moment of awkward silence until we both speak at once.
“So how have you been?” I ask, just as Lana says, “I’m glad you called the other night.”
And we also reply at the same time.
“I’m glad I called, too,” I say, as Lana blushes and counters, “Better off than I expected when we first met.”
“You’ve moved on already?” I talk alone this time.
“Wow.” Lana turns to me, but I keep staring at the road. “Straight to the punch.”
“Too direct?” I dare a peek at her; Lana’s expression is still open and warm. “I thought it’d be best if we got rid of the pink elephant right away.”
“I like things to be straightforward, but can I ask for a glass of wine before we talk exes? I assume they have wine where we’re going?”
I grin. “They don’t, actually, but I hope the scenery will compensate for the lack of alcohol.”
Lana frowns at first, then shrugs. “Probably better, on second thought. I’m too much of a lightweight, anyway.”
I chuckle.
Lana is special. Not only is she breathtakingly beautiful in the simplest way, but she has wit, and a down-to-earth, no-BS pragmatism so different to what I’m used to in the smoke and mirrors games of Hollywood. All qualities I find hard to resist. Not that I have to.
Thirty minutes later, as per usual LA dreadful mobility, I’m helping Lana out of the car near a friend’s house in Malibu.
She looks around the row of beachfront mansions, perplexed. “Is there a restaurant here?” she asks.
“Not exactly.” I smile.
From the trunk of the Tesla, I grab two blankets and the picnic basket Jeff prepared. Hands full, I beckon Lana to follow me with a lift of my chin and guide her past my friend’s driveway to the beach’s access point.
“Are you sure we’re allowed here?” Lana asks, pointing at the big sign marking the entryway.
RIGHT TO PASS
BY PERMISSION
AND SUBJECT
TO CONTROL
OF OWNER
SECTION 1008, CIVIL CODE
“Those signs are bogus,” I reply cheerfully. “The beach is public everywhere.”
I also have secured permission from said owner just in case.
We walk past the house, and our feet touch the sand just as the sun begins to lower over the horizon. Lana helps me spread the blanket evenly on the ground, and we sit on the soft fabric facing the ocean.
I unpack everything Jeff arranged—a selection of cheeses, cold cuts, fruit, and sandwiches cut into small triangles—lay the food on the blanket and grab two glasses.
“As per California drinking rules,” I announce, “our beverage choices include apple cider, water, or iced peach tea.”
“Iced tea would be great, thanks.”
I hand Lana a glass and fill mine with tea as well, saying, “We should toast.”
“To?”
“Hotel supply rooms?”
Lana chuckles, clinks her glass against mine, and takes a small sip. Then she glues those impossibly blue eyes of hers on me. “So, my ex. What did you want to know?”
“How you’re coping, I guess, and…” My palms go sweaty. Wow, takes more guts to say this than I expected. “If you’re open to something new?” I make my cute face—slight frown, hint of a smile. If this doesn’t work, nothing will.
Lana smiles and blushes.
Works like a charm. More reliable than even Joey Tribbiani’s How you doing? move.
“I’m okay, all things considered,” she finally says.
I wait for her to tell me more.
“My other best friend,” she continues, then winces, adding, “The non-evil twin, I mean. She made me take an honest look at my relationship with Johnathan.”
“And?”
“I wasn’t in love with him anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time. An obvious fact to everyone but me, apparently.” Lana pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and takes another sip of tea. “Deep down, I knew my feelings weren’t as intense as in the beginning, but Johnathan had been such a given in my life, I never stopped one second to question our status. I really don’t blame him for ending our relationship, only for the way he did it. We could’ve handled the situation like two reasonable adults but finding out he was sleeping with my best friend behind my back sort of nixed that.”
So far I couldn’t hope for a better answer. “How did that night go, after I left your home?”
“It was all very civilized.” Her secret smile makes an appearance. “Sort of.”
“Meaning?”
“I may or may not have packed all his clothes in a crumpled mess and let the cats take a nap in the suitcases before closing them.” The smile widens. “Because who doesn’t like a side of cat hair with their wrinkled shirts?”
I can’t help but laugh my head off. “Not so bad as revenge goes.”
“No, I agree. Anyway, when Johnathan got home, I told him I wanted him gone. He said he was sorry—that I caught him, not for what he did—and that was it. Put his stuff in the car and left. Haven’t heard from him since.”
“And your friend?”
“Her twin sister gave me the list of run-of-the-mill excuses Summer used to defend herself, but she hasn’t reached out. Must be too ashamed or too much of a coward to face me.”
“Would you want her to?”
“An apology would be nice.” Lana takes a sip of tea. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her. They scrambled my entire life. Johnathan, Summer, and I were part of such a close group of friends, but now it’s ruined. Everyone’s awkward, they’re all picking sides. No one condones their actions, but it’s not like Johnathan’s best friend
will choose me over him because of that, and the best friend’s wife goes with him… You get the picture.”
“I do.”
Lana gives me an intense stare. “Have you ever… been cheated on?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“How did you find out?”
Read it on a tabloid cover.
“Someone saw them together,” I say instead. “Not my highest moment.”
“Were you in love with her?”
“I’m not even sure anymore. It was years ago.” After so long, I only remember the anger at my private life being the center of a nationwide scandal. Having my face, her face, and the other bloke’s face plastered on magazine covers for over a year. But I don’t tell Lana any of this; I can’t. If she finds out who I am, the magic will be gone. And I don’t want this thing between us—whatever it is—to end.
“Anyway,” I continue, “she wasn’t right for me. In hindsight, it’s easy to tell. But, like you, I would’ve preferred for things to end in a different way. To avoid everything that came attached with the breakup, everybody knowing I had been cheated on, and the sympathy…”
“Oh, the sympathy is the worst,” Lana agrees. “But at least he wasn’t your best friend, I hope?”
“No, never met the guy.”
Only saw him on TV. But we’re still on each other’s blacklists; can’t be invited to the same events. But I have a feeling his name gets crossed off the list more often than mine. It’s all about the small victories.
“But to end the past-relationships talk,” Lana says, “my point was that even if I’m over my ex emotionally, I’m not adjusted to the breakup yet. Still a bit socially awkward.”
“A toast.” I raise my glass. “To cheating exes who can no longer hurt us, and to new beginnings.”
Lana
Gosh, his eyes are the color of the ocean. At first, I thought they were green only, but staring at them now they have blue in them, too, deep and electric colors all mixed into one. The more Christian stares at me, the more my cheeks heat up. Shoot, I’m blushing, and for no reason at all.
As a diversion, I clink my glass against his. “To new beginnings,” I repeat, and to do something with myself, I grab one of the mini sandwiches and stuff it in my mouth. “Wow, these are delicious. What did you put in them?”
“I have a confession to make.”
Oh, no. He’s making that cute face again, with the small frown and a hint of a crooked smile, and my cheeks are hotter than ever.
“What?” I ask.
“I didn’t really make the sandwiches; I ordered them. I’m not the best around the kitchen.”
“Oh, no,” I say. “Then we’re doomed.”
The cute frown deepens. “Why?”
“I can’t cook,” I explain. “If you can’t cook, either, how are we ever going to eat?”
Christian makes a weird face as if he’s choking back the first answer that came into his head.
“We could always learn,” he says eventually.
“Oh, I plan to.” I pause to swallow the last bit of the mini sandwich. “I’ve looked at cooking classes online but haven’t decided on one yet. Hey, we should go together.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He doesn’t seem enthusiastic.
“Or not,” I say.
“No, I would love to.”
“Really? I’ll let you know when I pick a course, then.”
“Great,” Christian says. But something still seems off. “What else has been going on with you?”
I grab a slice of cheese before answering. “Lots of free time to read, and a plan to learn new things, try different experiences, meet new people…”
“New people, plural?”
“Yeah, why?”
His face falls. “So you’re dating someone else, too?”
“No, no.” I blush ten times harder than before. “I’m seeing only you that way. But I have a new friend. Her name is Marjorie, she’s my favorite librarian. I’ve known her forever but never hung out with her outside the library.” I’m aware I’m over-explaining, but when I’m nervous, I talk. “The other day she invited me for coffee and I said, wow, yeah, why have I never thought of that. So we’re meeting tomorrow afternoon for the first time. And that’s me, learning to cook, taking a photography class, making new friends…”
“Dating me,” Christian says with a cheeky smile.
And I don’t think my face can become any redder.
“What about you?” I ask. “Have you been single long?”
“Yes, it’s been a while.”
“How come?”
“It’s hard to find the right person. And I suppose I have trust issues.”
“Why? Because of what happened with your ex?”
Christian frowns like he knows what he wants to say but is having trouble expressing the concept in so many words.
“In part. But in all my past relationships I’ve always felt like the other person had more at stake than just being with me…”
I’m not sure how to read this answer. “Really? Like what?”
A shadow passes over his face. “Oh, this and that…”
Clearly, Christian is not comfortable discussing this particular topic. I’m curious, but I let the subject drop. I want tonight to stay light, and we’ve already discussed our exes enough.
So my next question is about something else entirely. “How about your secret project? You sorted it out with your partners?”
“Oh, that. I’m still working on it.”
That shadow again. As soon as I ask something personal or try to dig a little deeper into his life, the shadow arrives. I’m all for the brooding, mysterious hero, but at this pace, Christian is going to stay a blank page for me. A very attractive blank page, though.
Okay, buddy, last chance.
“How come you have a bit of a British accent? Did you grow up in England?”
Ding-ding-ding.
Jackpot!
I finally get a smile out of him.
And from that moment on, the conversation flows between us. Christian tells me everything about growing up in London while traveling often to the States to see his mother’s family. He talks about the British stuff he misses here in LA—not the weather, and not British humor.
Time flies as we eat the sandwiches and drink the tea. I could listen to his deep, sexy voice for hours. And the ocean setting is so romantic…
And Christian, he’s… he must come from another planet. Really, they don’t make men this handsome on Earth. And he’s also fun. He tells me a couple of terrible British jokes so horrendous they become funny.
“So that was me before moving to LA,” he concludes. “What about you? Are you from around here?”
“Yeah, although my life hasn’t been half as glamorous as yours. I grew up in Pasadena and moved here for college when I was eighteen.”
“To study rocket science.”
“Correct.”
“Why? You wanted to be an astronaut?”
I laugh. “No, it’s much simpler than that. In high school, I excelled at math, but I don’t like theoretical studies, so engineering seemed like the best practical application.”
“So you like to build things?”
“Yeah, we have this amazing rocket project where we’re trying to assemble an actual rocket. It’s both aerospace engineering grads and undergrads and some high school kids.” My chest pulls tight at the thought we might have to cancel the program next year for lack of funding.
“What?” Christian says, picking up on my discomfort.
“Oh, nothing, I’m just worried about funding for next year. I need a sponsor and, so far, I’ve had little luck. But it’s only March; I still have time until the fall.”
“Doesn’t the university support the project?”
“In part, yes, we’ve won internal financing for the next five years, but a rocket is an expensive object to build, so w
e need external funding as well.”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone.”
“Yeah,” I say, wrapping my arms around my chest and shivering a little in the night breeze. Since the sun went down, it started getting chilly.
“Come here,” Christian says, noticing I’m getting cold. “I have an extra blanket.”
I snuggle close to him and he wraps the blanket around both our shoulders. And suddenly, the fact that I’m on a date for the first time in ten years hits me. I blush and can’t bear to keep eye contact with Christian, so I look up at the stars.
“They’re beautiful,” Christian whispers. “Aren’t they?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Makes you wonder how far they are.”
“Well, the Sun is the closest star to Earth, of course, at about 150 million kilometers. While the farthest star known to humankind is Icarus, a whopping 9 billion light-years away.”
“Wow.” Christian low whistles. “Telescopes can see that far? I had no idea.”
“Not really. Astronomers could only spot Icarus because of the gravitational lensing given by a far-off supernova.”
“The gravi-what?”
“Sorry for getting so technical.” I turn to him. Gosh, our faces are so close, I would only have to lean in an inch for our lips to touch. “Am I boring you?”
“No, I’m fascinated.”
I’m not sure if he’s playing nice or if he’s really interested, but I explain the phenomenon to him anyway. “Gravitational lensing: it happens when gravity from a massive celestial object, like the explosive death of a giant star, acts as a magnifying glass…”
Christian looks weirded out.
“Sorry.” I lower my gaze self-consciously. “Definitely too technical?”
“No.” Christian gently lifts my chin with one hand. “I’m awed by how smart you are.”
Eyes burning into mine, he pulls me closer, cups my cheek in a delicate caress, and bends down to kiss me.
His lips are soft but demanding. There’s the light scratch of his stubble against my skin, and, help me, because it feels like a giant star is having its explosive death inside my belly. Leave it to me to grow a supernova instead of the customary butterflies.
To the Stars and Back: A Glittering Romantic Comedy (First Comes Love Book 4) Page 6