Nope, back up. Them. He’d made dinner for them. And she had a sneaky suspicion that he was the one who had stepped in on her behalf with the Fox’s Chocs’ disaster. It was something she wanted to ask and yet, if he hadn’t intervened, how much of a fool would she look to think he thought that highly of her and her business that he would help her?
He stood in front of her, two glasses swinging in his hand. The white shirt was still damp from earlier and crumpled from the constant movement. Her throat felt suddenly dry at the sight and not trusting her voice, she moved toward him, nodding as she put her hand out.
The smile he threw at her wasn’t the lurid leer she had imagined a man would wear in this situation; in fact, it was the total opposite. It was reassuring, as if he knew she was worried. He poured the champagne, one hand holding the bottle, the other hand cradling the glasses. His movements were steady despite the weight and she found her attention pulled again to his wrist. She’d never been drawn to anything before and once she found herself looking, couldn’t look away.
Jarring herself out of her daze, she looked up as he shook her glass lightly in front of her, the delicate bubbles hitting the surface and popping with each movement.
“What are we going to toast to?” She licked her bottom lip as the words came out less confidently then she would have liked.
“How about to your first Valentine’s Day in Hollywood?” he ventured, his eyes holding hers over the rim of their glasses.
“Sounds good to me,” she said, raising her glass and tipping it to his before taking a small sip. “But what about you?”
His mouth tilted up as if remembering a private joke, “How about … to the first nanny my son has had that he hasn’t given the slip?”
“I’ll drink to that,” she said cheerfully, feeling the bubbles pop against her lips as she took another sip. “Thanks for dinner, by the way. I meant what I said earlier; it really was delicious.”
“You sound surprised,” he said, frowning at her over the glass. Oh great, now she’d offended him.
“I didn’t mean it like that; I … ” She stopped when she saw his lips quirk up, his eyes dancing with mischief.
“You’re joking right?” Indecision making her sound more guarded than she cared to reveal; relieved when she saw the answering nod and smile. He was only teasing her. Phew! That was a relief.
As she looked at his smile, she could see where Theo got it from. Good God, she was surrounded by handsome, incorrigible men. The feeling didn’t alarm her half as much as it would have done before.
“By the way, I forgot to tell you, my colleague texted me to say the chocolate delivery came through.” She watched through lowered lashes as he seemed to digest this information. Not even a flicker in his face that she had caught him red-handed. She felt like an idiot. Maybe he hadn’t been the catalyst to get Lee Harrow to move his behind.
“That’s great news.” His tone was upbeat but non-committal, like any other friend who was happy about her good fortune. Yet for some reason, she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he had a part to play in it. The question was why.
“Oh, definitely. It’s fantastic news. It really helped my Valentine’s Day sales. It’s just a little weird though; after three days of emailing and not getting any proper reply suddenly the delivery turned up.”
“Maybe Lee Harrow’s employees just changed their mind. Or it really was on its way after all.”
Yeah and maybe pigs could fly, she wanted to add. “Possibly, but I never got that impression from them. They didn’t seem to be professional about their business.”
He shrugged, the movement causing the damp material of his shirt to stretch and cling even closer to his body. If that was a deliberate ploy to distract her, it was working very well indeed.
“But at least the chocolate got to your shop and was ready for someone to give to their much loved other half on Valentine’s Day. The only day of the year — if you believe advertisers — that you can tell someone how much you love them.” He looked as if he had just sucked on a lemon at the thought.
“Jeez, someone’s not a Valentine’s Day fan,” she commented drily, perching herself on a nearby chair, tucking a leg underneath herself as she sat.
“When you’ve been around Hollywood as long as I have, Valentine’s Day gets to be about as real and meaningful as the tooth fairy.”
Ouch; someone really had done a number on him. She shouldn’t be so rough on him; after all, she was fairly certain if she’d ever given a relationship a real try then it would probably have ended up failing, just as all her mother’s relationships did. “Wow. I thought I was a cynic, but you … you take it to a whole new level.”
“You, a cynic? How is that possible when you make money selling the Valentine’s Day promise of love and romance? Doesn’t your shop sell Valentine’s Day sweet boxes and chocolate heart bouquets?”
He’d sat opposite her, their legs so close, she could feel the soft material of his trousers brush up against her knee when he moved.
“Now wait a sec. I sell chocolate and sweets that trigger, what I like to call the ‘happy’ chemical that is also released when people fall in love. It’s not my fault that the two are somehow linked. And besides … ” She shifted forward as she warmed up to her point. “The phrase ‘pot and kettle’ spring to mind. You forget, I’ve seen your movies. There was that romantic one you made about finding your one true love. As if that could ever really happen!” she scoffed, making a face as she sipped her champagne.
“So you don’t believe in true love?”
• • •
He could tell the question had thrown her; from the way he noticed her body tense to how her drink had stilled in her hand as she was sipping. He could be wrong but it would seem Miss Rania George was a graduate from the once bitten, twice shy school.”
“Or is it that you do believe in love, but you don’t have a high opinion of Valentine’s Day?” Which, in his experience, also meant she didn’t have a high opinion of love.
He knew he should stop probing but he couldn’t help it. There was something about her. He knew he was traveling into her realm of assumptions, but he couldn’t help wondering if something had happened. He didn’t think she’d been married before; he was positive that she would have let it slip before now, or would have mentioned it to Theo. Unless she’d just been in bad relationships.
“Both.”
Well, that was concise. “Both as in you don’t believe in true love and you don’t have a high opinion of Valentine’s Day? Now who’s the more cynical?” he said, taking her glass from her and topping it up.
Eyeing the added bubbles suspiciously, she leaned forward to take the glass from him. Her long hair, now dried into corkscrew curls, brushed his hand and he pulled it back. The soft touch was certainly not helping his determination to maintain the professional distance he knew he should.
“I’m not a cynic. I’m a realist. I’ve seen what happens to people when they’ve fallen in love and when they fall out. It’s not pretty.”
“So, sayeth the cynic,” he retorted, topping up his own glass.
“Hey, whose side are you on here. I thought you were just as much a cynic as I am.”
“I am; I just don’t sell the idea of Valentine’s Day to others, then refuse to believe in it myself.”
“Ummm … Your movies … ”
“Made for entertainment value.”
She narrowed her eyes. The golden flecks reminded him of fire sparks on a cold winter night.
“So what’s your excuse? You were married, right? Love, honor, and all that jazz. Yet you still don’t believe in Valentine’s Day?” He froze at the direct question. No one who knew him and Lila ever asked about them. They never had to. Not too long into their marriage cracks started to appear and people began to talk. Then Theo c
ame along and he hoped it would fix everything.
Staring into the golden fizz, he wondered how best to answer. He’d been brought up never to talk ill of the dead, yet he didn’t want to lie. He realized after her death that he’d been doing too much of that already.
“Yes, I was married and Lila — Theo’s mother — died just after he was born. But we were young when we met. Like when all marriages start out, you think it’s going to be something out of a love song, but as happens when you’re young, you grow up and apart.”
He didn’t feel the need to add that even at a young age, Lila knew what she wanted and how to get it and he, like a young fool, wanted to give it to her.
He realized he had been staring down into his drink a long time and he looked up. She was nodding as if she understood exactly what he meant, her face solemn, her golden eyes wide with sympathy.
She was so close he could just lean in and … And what, kiss her? She’d basically stopped short of confessing she’d had her heart broken and what did he want to do? Take advantage of her vulnerability.
Sitting back, he took a big gulp of champagne, feeling disgusted with himself and no better than those colleagues he despised. With her wide eyes and luscious mouth, she had a very expressive face. It was one of the things he liked about her. And right now, she looked confused. Not that he could blame her; she confused the hell out of him. It was only fair he return the favor.
A stiff embossed black and white card behind her head caught his eye; a glaring reminder of Hollywood’s annual “Black Tux and Diamonds Ball.” A chance for everybody who was anybody in Hollywood to see and be seen. The event itself was career gold where all walks of the industry could mingle and network. He’d managed to avoid it since Theo’s birth, crying off so he could avoid the matchmakers, not to mention his former in-laws who attended every year without fail.
This year, the organizer had found out he was in town and with no reason not to attend, as Theo was with a nanny, he’d received an invitation to go. It was only two days away and he had been banging his head against a brick wall, thinking of an excuse to get out of it.
Looking across the table, he saw she was playing with the rose. A stab of guilt shot through him. He hadn’t been completely honest when he said Theo had picked the rose. Yes, Theo had looked it up on the net, but it was Nick who pointed him in the direction of the rose bush after telling him that Rania would like it. He was pleased after he’d seen the way she had looked at it, despite what she had said about Valentine’s Day.
He grimaced as he remembered the momentary panic after she’d started talking about Lee Harrow, when he thought his help on her behalf had been discovered, breathing a sigh of relief when she’d finally let it drop. The fact that she didn’t know he’d helped her meant he couldn’t use that excuse to ask for a favor. He’d just have to ask and let the chips fall where they may.
“Rania … ” he said slowly, stopping as he saw the glass she was holding freeze as it touched her lips, her eyes instantly alert and suspicious. Putting the champagne flute down, she sat back, waiting. From her reaction, he surmised she had heard people use the “request voice” on her before.
“Rania,” he began again. “I would like to ask you a little favor.”
She was as still as a statue. Nothing moved as she observed him through lowered lashes.
“Ever been to a Hollywood Ball before?”
She shook her head.
“Ever wanted to go?”
No movement. He thought for a second she hadn’t heard him and he opened his mouth to repeat the question.
“No, can’t say I have.”
“Sorry, what?” Maybe the champagne had made him deaf. She couldn’t have said “no,” could she?
“I said, I’ve never been interested in going. Why’d you ask? Who’d you need me to go and protect you from? The Hollywood matchmakers?”
• • •
She couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrous idea. Seeing he wasn’t joining in, she stopped. He wasn’t serious …
“You’re not serious, are you? You could ask anybody. And besides, what about Theo? Who’d look after him?” Her voice started to rise in panic.
“Theo has been invited to hang out with a friend that evening. We’d pick him up after the party. As for inviting anyone, someone could get the wrong idea and think I want a serious relationship. I want someone I can trust. I want you.”
She tried not to let those three words rob her of her breathing ability and she was grateful she was already sitting down. “I need someone who knows this isn’t going to be personal.”
And that would be her then, reaching for her drink and taking a large gulp to fill the empty void in the stomach at those words.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if she’d be paid extra, but decided that would be too crass even for her.
“Sure. Why not. What do I need to do?”
Chapter 6
Nick had told her Gus would drop her at the venue and he’d meet her there. What he failed to mention was that when she’d get there she would be swamped by paparazzi and legions of fans all clamoring to see the biggest stars in Hollywood. Not to mention being surrounded by said stars. Gus had told her that due to the crowds, he’d have to drop her straight off then drive on as there was often a cue of limos behind.
Feeling her stomach dip as the queue to the carpet got shorter and shorter, she smoothed down the satin fabric of her long black gown. She’d bought it on a whim at a boutique in Newton before she flew out and knew as soon as she’d seen it that it was the dress for her. The Roman-style single shoulder strap highlighted her toned arms and the long flowing fabric nipped in at the top of her waist, making the most of her curves. The additional tan the LA weather had added to her already olive skin didn’t hurt either; her skin glowed in the dark color accentuated by the subtle shimmering tones of her make-up. Fingering the diamond chandelier earrings, the one and only gift of any real value her mother thought to leave her, she wondered what her mother would say if she were alive. Heck, knowing her, she’d probably have scrambled for an invite.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the pull-down mirrors, she nodded, pleased with the result. After fussing with her hair, she had decided on a half knot leaving the rest of her hair curling down one side. She appeared elegant and sophisticated.
“You’re up, Miss George.” Gus’s cheerful voice was muffled by the black window he insisted on keeping up.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door handle, only to find it was opened for her. A strong male hand reached down to help her out of the limo, and she bit back the wide grin that was playing around her lips. She’d recognize those wrists anywhere. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up and saw him resplendent in a black tux, his blond hair shimmering in the LA sunshine. Taking her hand, he bowed before her and she couldn’t hold back the small giggle that escaped at the old-fashioned gallant action.
“What’s so funny? I’ve been practicing that!” The twinkle in his eyes did little to calm the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach.
“In that case, well done. It was very elegant.” Rania curtsied, returning his smile.
The carpet beneath her feet was springy and it hit her that maybe the ridiculously strappy black high heels, as gorgeous as they were, were not the best choice of footwear.
She needn’t have worried as he took her hand, tucking it snugly in the crook of his arm as they made their way down the dark green carpet lined with reporters. Startled, she reared back as she saw a bright light flash before her eyes, and felt Nick’s gentle nudge as he urged her on.
With every step they took to move forward, someone screamed his name. Even when they stood still for one photographer, another on the other side would scream at him to turn around. It was overwhelming; she wasn’t sure if she was
on her way to a ball or walking the plank. His reassuring “just smile and imagine them naked” had her smiling.
They’d almost reached the end of the line before she heard them start to scream about her. “Nick, who is she?” “Is she an actress?” “Are you two an item?” “When’s the big day?”
Wow; from asking who she was to asking when they were getting married all in the space of a few breaths was a bit of a jump. If they started asking when the baby was due, she’d jump across the barriers and smack them with her satin clutch bag.
Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel. Attempting to pull her arm away, Rania found it was locked solidly into place. Glancing up, she was surprised to see a gleam of sweat on Nick’s upper lip, his eyes fixed firmly on a small group of well-dressed people in front. He looked nervous. The feeling seemed to be contagious, rubbing off and unsettling her. She tugged on his tux, dragging his attention back to her.
“I don’t think you were being completely honest with me, Nicholas Trenton. I don’t believe it was just the husband-hunters keeping you away from this event. What haven’t you told me?” she hissed, glaring at a well-dressed man and woman in front of her. They both turned to stare at her stage whisper.
As he lowered his head, she could feel his breath tickle her ear. The action jarred her nerves, making it virtually impossible to concentrate on what he was saying.
“Do you remember how I told you that Lila was the daughter of a director? Well, her parents attend every year. Every year,” he said slowly, “So in addition to the husband-hunters, I had another reason not to go.”
“So are they here now?” she whispered, eyes searching the venue frantically. Oooh, wasn’t that the actor all over the news; he one who got caught cheating on his wife? Focus, Rania, this is important, she mentally chastised herself as she continued to look around.
“Never try and get a job as a spy. You’d be rubbish at it,” came the dry comment next to her ear.
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