It seemed she’d no sooner settled herself in her dress than they were out of the plane and in a limo.
It all happened so fast. They stopped at the curbside where the carpet started, and when Liam had his cane in position and her on his other arm, he moved her forward.
People, screaming and cheering, lined both sides. Flashes came from all directions. A quaint refurbished theater with gilded fixtures on tall, heavy doors awaited them after a blessedly short carpet walk. Liam shook hands as they went, posed for pictures, took a couple selfies with a fan, then a number of group selfies with cameras Grace funneled toward him and then back to the crowd.
And then they were inside the theater, a manager leading them through to a back exit where the limo waited.
Grace couldn’t swear she’d even taken a single breath before it was all over and they were back at the airport, with her once more settling a cold pack on his ankle.
“You all right?” Liam asked.
When she looked at him, he nodded to the seat beside him. “They want us buckled in so we can get back into the air.”
“Right. Right...” She gathered her dress as best she could to prevent wrinkling, and sat down.
“You look shell-shocked, Gracie. Want something to drink?”
“No. I’m fine. I just... That was... A lot.”
“Not to scare you but that was small. The next one will be much bigger. But it was overwhelming to you because it was your first. That’s over. You’ve done it now, and we won’t be in such a rush to get through the next one. Just lean back and breathe.”
Breathe. She didn’t really have anything to do but make sure Liam didn’t walk all over the place. And she was very good at walking.
* * *
“Do you always go from one right to another one?” Grace asked Liam, sitting by the door in the back of the limo as it spirited them through crowded evening streets toward the New York theater.
“It’s not unheard of, but not usually. We were on location in Virginia for three months, and the film was based on a book written by a local author, who’s like a hometown hero to them. So that’s why it was scheduled.”
“I get that,” she said, “But why have two on one day?”
“Sometimes they hold the theater launch back until after the premiere. Though it’s pretty common to have more than one, and they don’t want to hold the film any longer than necessary. It’s all decided by the marketing people for best impact. I just go where they tell me.”
He scooted a little closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “You thought it was all fancy parties where everyone stood around telling each other how amazing they looked, and drinking too much.”
“Actually, I thought you all got dressed up, but then behaved like it was a frat party, with gobs of public nudity and body shots,” she filled in, grinning at him. His heat felt good at her side. It was still summer, and the Virginia carpet had been hot, but the air-conditioning on both the jet and in the cars had been high enough to chill her.
Liam looked at her, the fondness in his eyes cutting through some of the chill too. Enough that she didn’t know how to respond again. He’d done that to her earlier too, when he’d said she was beautiful.
“Why are you looking like that?” she asked, needing him to stop before he confused her again.
Not that he stopped, he just smiled too. “Because you finally smiled.”
“Didn’t I smile enough in Virginia?”
“You did. But you weren’t smiling at me until now.”
She felt her cheeks going pink and forced herself to look down. He’d said she was beautiful earlier, and now he’d looked at her like she was sunshine. In one day. What her earlier self would’ve given to hear those sweet words from him.
Even so, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face right now, though she tried to edge back to the earlier subject. “My real mental image was that it was all about the after-party with champagne and wild behavior. If it is, I’d like you to keep that from me. I much prefer this, even if I’m really tired of posing for pictures.”
He let her get back to it without doing anything else that might make her emotions go haywire. “We’re skipping the after-party.”
“Oh, thank God.” That would be less time in the dress and less time with him on that foot.
“This time it will start the second we step out of the car. Hope your cheeks aren’t too sore from the last round.”
Half a block in front of them crowds had gathered, and police stood in front of barricades, directing traffic—regular traffic in one direction, and them another.
They’d just done this a couple hours ago, but he’d been sitting still since then. And when you did that with an injury... “Remember to use the cane more when you first put your weight on the leg. It’s been resting for a while, so that pain is going to scream through your leg when you first—”
“I know. I’ve figured that part out.” His hand moved to cup her bare shoulder, the pad of his thumb stroking the front curve.
The car stopped and her stomach lurched with it.
“You’ve already done this once,” he said, obviously picking up on her discomfort. “You’re the belle of the ball, Grace. Just remember to smile.”
The door opened and she had to make herself move. “I’m the belle of the ball,” she whispered to herself as she accepted a hand out from the man who’d opened the door. “Thank you.” She stepped to the side, reminding herself to smile as she made room for Liam.
As soon as his handsome head appeared above the door, so many flashes went off that as she turned to look at him and check his balance, all she could see were spots in her vision.
“I’m okay, Grace,” he said, before she could ask, then slipped his hand into hers and steered her around the door so they could make the walk. “Just follow my lead. Stop when I stop. Pose and smile. Just like before. Only with more stops this time. We’ll also make a wide zig-zag path down the carpet.”
“How many zigs?” She stopped when he did and turned slightly toward him, her heel butting against the center of the other foot, just like Tom had told her to stand.
Pause. Smile. Walk.
“I don’t know. Ten.”
“Two,” she countered. “The more you zig, the more you walk. You said I was here to keep you from having to walk too much. Otherwise why am I wearing this dress?”
“Because you’re my date, and you have to wear clothes to a premiere, no matter what your freewheeling California inclinations say. Hippy.”
She laughed despite herself. “Idiot.” But his joking made her relax. “I’m willing to up to four zigs. Any more than that and I’m going to take your cane and start clubbing your fans so that they stay back.”
“Five.”
They were moving again slowly, with him waving, as they headed for the first point of the zig.
“Fine, but only because an odd number would flow better toward the door with you going in this direction first.” She quieted down as he approached the edge.
Once again, pieces of paper, magazines, pictures...things were thrust at Liam, and he dutifully signed and shook hands.
Every time he was ready to walk again she joined him and they made their way back to the other side, pausing for photos along the way, and once to speak with a camera crew who called to him for an interview.
Why was he using a cane?
Who was his date?
Was she the reason he’d broken up with Simone Andre?
Though she saw a tic in his jaw with the last question, Liam answered everything politely. Sprained ankle. Grace Watson. No. He’d begged Grace to come with him last night, and she’d miraculously been available.
At the last leg of the carpet, a very little boy at the front asked abo
ut the cane. Even though Liam had given this answer at least thirty times since that first crew had asked, he stopped in front of the boy and shifted his weight to the good leg so he could pinch the pants leg and lift it, showing the expanse of white tape poking up above his sock. “I fell down when I was running.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Oh, it hurts, but I wanted to come and have fun here tonight with everyone. Plus, they gave me a cane to use and it’s got a sword in it.” He pulled the handle up to give the boy a peek of the blade. “I couldn’t pass up a chance to use a sword cane.”
And he actually had been using the cane, and not just as a cool prop. Why he’d ever been upset to begin with still didn’t compute with her.
There was some gasping over the awesome sword cane, the boy lifting his own pants leg to show Liam his bandaged knee.
As much as she wanted to usher him right off into the theater and make him sit, make him take the weight off it, there was no way she’d interrupt wound comparisons and “I fell too” stories.
By the time she thought her face would split from smiling, the little guy’s mother opened her bag and after some digging produced and unwrapped a colorful bandage.
She watched as Liam lifted his cuff and the little boy crawled beneath the velvet rope to pull Liam’s sock down and place the bandage right over the bump of his taped ankle, a cartoon character bandage in an expanse of white tape.
Her heart squeezed as she watched. He might complain about how crowds drained him, but he loved it too. He was so sweet to the boy she had to look away briefly to banish sappy tears.
He fought to be at all these events, and it wasn’t just because he wanted his career to continue being wildly successful—although, of course, that had to factor in. It was something more.
He posed for pictures with the boy this time, and their matching bandages, then made it the last few steps into the theater.
“Let’s find where we’re sitting. I need to sit.”
“Of course you do. It still took forty-five minutes to make it into the building.”
“And that was fast, Grace. I’ve spent two hours out there before.” He leaned on the cane heavily and gestured for an usher. Soon they were being led to a small balcony to sit down. “Will we have people here with us?”
He nodded and then proceeded to name names—all of which she’d heard before, and none of whom she’d met.
Before they got there, she leaned forward in her seat to look at his leg. The tape looked tight but not tight enough to cut off circulation. She pulled the sock up for him, and set it all to rights. “Will there be any empty seats?”
He did a quick seat count and then shook his head. “Probably not.”
“Can we get a footstool brought up?”
“Oh, that we might be able to do,” he said, and then looked at her long enough to demand her attention. “You’re always concerned about my leg and pain level.”
“Of course I am.”
“Because you know how it is to have an injury?”
There was an edge to his voice, prompting her to make eye contact again in the low light of the theater.
“I’d like to think that I’d still care without that painful time in my past.”
“How did you get hurt?” He didn’t sound angry, as he had in the hotel, but there was more emotion in his voice than she’d expect from someone who’d stayed away so effectively. And who hadn’t felt the same way about her as she’d felt about him.
Even if she’d avoided asking about Liam, she’d always thought he’d probably still kept up with her through Nick. Nick was a talker, and he had spent a lot of time in the hospital with her while she’d recovered. “Nick really didn’t tell you about my accident? I thought you two told one another everything.”
“No. He never did. Which is pretty weird...”
Yes. Weird. Unless Nick knew about them. “I had a motorcycle accident when I was nineteen.”
“I never heard about you having a motorcycle either.”
“I didn’t. My boyfriend at the time... It was his motorcycle. After that, I had a lot of rehab. But it pretty much scratched professional swimmer off my career list. So I’m doing the next best thing.”
He made some sound of affirmation, but it didn’t sound settled.
Liam leaving had made her reckless, always seeking out the bad boy. That particular bad boy had made her go to the other extreme. Which made this premiere business so out of character for her that it could’ve been a joke. If someone had said to her last week that she’d be glittering from head to toe at a New York City premiere she’d have definitely thought it was some kind of joke where her dullness was the punch line. Because her life had been dull, probably. Other people would find the clientele exciting, and sometimes she did, but it was hard to be impressed by celebrities when she’d known Liam as long as she had. He was a real person, and that made them all too real and flawed as well.
Maybe they were all wounded too. Maybe it took that kind of hurt to get someone from talented to artist.
“I’m going to go find the usher,” she said, mostly because she didn’t know what else to say. “See if we can get that footstool.”
Before her musings moved onto lamentations of what she couldn’t have.
* * *
“The movie was good,” Grace said, shifting in the back seat of the limo, not sure of where or even how to sit now that their charade of a date was over. “You were good. Not that I expected anything different. But all those period costumes, I loved it. It felt like a real story. Not just all the flash-bang stuff that goes on in your action movies.”
For the entire evening she’d been pretty much plastered to Liam’s side, and now, sitting with space around her, she felt cold. And lonely. Making useless small talk also felt awkward.
“Grace Watson, are you saying you don’t like my action movies?” Unlike earlier, Liam had taken a spot up by the door, his legs stretched out in front of him.
“Still playful, that’s good. I guess your ankle isn’t hurting as much as last night?”
“You did not answer the question but you’re correct, it’s not hurting as badly as last night.”
She crossed her arms and lifted her brows, giving him her best told-you-so expression.
Liam crossed his arms in response. “You want me to say it?”
“I do. It’s a personal failing, I know, but yes. Yes, I want you to say it.” She knew she looked smug, that was the whole point of the told-you-so expression.
“You were right. I should have listened to you all along, but then I would never have gotten to have the prettiest date tonight.”
She snorted. The first couple of times he’d said it she’d been too dazed to really process the words.
“You know, the more you say it, the less I believe it.” They passed a building she hadn’t seen on the way to the theater and she stopped to get a good look at the direction in which they were traveling. “This isn’t the way to the hotel. Are we going to the airport or something?”
“No, we’re going to dinner.”
“You want me to be right some more? You need that thing up and iced—it’s been hours.”
“I need to eat too if I’m going to take one of those blessed pain-reducers, don’t I?”
“Yes, and it’s called room service.”
“I don’t want room service. I want to eat at my favorite restaurant in New York, with my date.”
She didn’t say anything. Arguing with the man had done no good in anything they’d butted heads over so far. He’d only agreed to the cane after he’d proved her case for her. “How about we get it to go?”
“No. We’re going to go in, sit at the quiet booth I’ve reserved, and if you want me to I will sling my leg up in the bench beside me to have it elevat
ed. We can eat good food and relax with no responsibilities hanging over our heads. No one asking for interviews, or pictures. Have a little wine. Can I have wine with those pills?”
“No. I know I say that a lot, but you always want a little bit more, don’t you? I want to go to dinner. I want to eat where I want to eat. I want to have pain pills and wine.” She shook her head, but the tension she’d been feeling had already started to drain away. Probably had started the moment that he’d agreed to use the cane. It made it easier to tease him back. “How did you stay alive this long? Luck? Your looks?”
“Yep.” He reached over, wiggled an arm behind her around her waist, and slid her over to him. “Fate lets me get by with stuff because I’m too pretty to smite.”
She laughed even though she knew it just egged the fool on. “So that’s why Fate sent me. I’m immune to your prettiness.”
The car rolled to a stop and the doorman came to open their door. “You just adore me for my winning personality? Or is it my body? I feel so cheap.”
And yet he grabbed his cane and got out of the car, stepped to the side and offered her a hand.
“This is not a date,” she said, taking the offered hand if for no other reason than civility—even if she was currently ignoring the fact that navigating car doors in this dress wasn’t really in her usual skill set. “And no wine. Or I’m going to whine.”
“Fine, fine. No wine. But I’m eating red meat and you can’t stop me.” He passed her hand through the crook of his elbow and led the way inside. “I come here whenever I’m in New York, they have a couple of great private booths. And if you want, I’m sure they’ll even bring out a bag of crushed ice. Which I will use, in the interests of making my date happy.”
“This is not a date.” Grace repeated herself, this time more quietly as they wandered through the restaurant to the promised private back corner booth.
“Okay,” he whispered back. “In the interests of making happy the lovely creature who went to the movies with me, and who is now going to eat with me, I will ask for ice.”
Taming Hollywood’s Ultimate Playboy Page 8