The usual flush flooded her cheeks, and she reached down and pulled her thick linen napkin from her lap and playfully tossed it across the table at him.
“Shut up. You’re so full of it.”
His eyes widened in mock innocence. Then suddenly, his expression changed as he leaned forward in his chair. A shiver raced down Amelia’s spine as he slid his hand up her thigh under the table to replace the napkin in her lap. He straightened back up quickly and winked at her before turning his eyes back to his menu.
Her face still flaming, she glanced around to make sure no one had noticed. Colin didn’t look up, but she saw him shake his head, his lips twitching at the corners. She ducked her head back into her menu to hide her smile.
She had to admit, it was nice to be here with him, even if it did come with all this unwelcome attention. Not counting this trip, she’d seen him only twice since he’d visited her in October: once in Austin, before filming there wrapped and moved to L.A., and again just outside Vancouver, on the set of an indie flick Colin was starring in. Both times the paparazzi had descended on them like birds of prey.
Colin had tried to arrange other rendezvous, but Amelia had been as unavailable as he was. She’d spent the past eleven weeks immersed in Shattered, struggling to produce a draft of the fourth book worthy of handing over to her editor. It had been a torturous process. She’d reworked no less than half the manuscript before finally clicking “Send” mere hours before her deadline.
And now she was free, and so was Colin, and she was here, visiting him in L.A. for the first time. It was surreal, even knowing what to expect.
In their many months of late-night phone conversations, he’d described in detail his house, his friends, his life in the Hollywood Hills—but hearing about it and seeing it were two very different things. Colin’s house, which he’d described humbly as “a bachelor pad,” was the most extravagant bachelor pad she imagined could exist.
She’d taken a cab from LAX to his house three days earlier. Attempting to disguise herself from the paparazzi, she dressed in jeans and a hoodie and pulled her hair back into a ponytail that ran through the band of a Cubs hat she kept low around her eyes. She didn’t go so far as to don sunglasses—she thought that would be too obvious, but it didn’t matter, because people stared at her anyway. She turned away from every curious glance and kept her head down as much as possible, and then she raced through baggage claim and found the driver Colin had sent for her—who held a sign that read “Allie Spencer,” the code name they’d agreed on—with a sigh of relief. As the car wound higher and higher up the winding roads of Laurel Canyon, her eyes widened as she drank in the view, then all but bugged out of their sockets when the driver approached the elaborate metal gate at the foot of Colin’s drive. He buzzed them in at once, and the gate swung slowly open.
The lengthy driveway curved around beautifully maintained clusters of shrubs and gently waving palm trees. When Amelia caught her first glimpse of the Mediterranean Revival mansion, her breath caught in her throat. Its stone-and-stucco façade included three wings that she could see. At the main entrance, a circular drive led to a pair of shapely staircases that curved up to an elaborately carved portico. Her eyes darted nervously in all directions, taking in the octagonal cupola at one end of the sprawling structure, glass on all sides delivering what she imagined must be a breathtaking view of the Southern California landscape. Near the other end was a rounded extension that could only be described as a turret. A turret, she breathed inwardly. This isn’t a house—it’s a palace. The thought nearly overwhelmed her. How could her life in any way include this? How could anyone’s?
Colin gave her the grand tour, which took about twelve times longer than the tour she’d given him of her tiny house a few months earlier. A neutral color palette carried through from room to room, bursts of color popping from skillfully placed accessories and a breathtaking collection of original art. His designer was very talented, she thought cynically. After the first few rooms, she found herself staring at Colin more than the house, feeling suddenly like she barely knew him.
But at the end of it, he’d turned to her with a shrug, and the sheepish grin on his face had made her laugh. That was the Colin she knew. And it was sort of funny, she thought. He lived here, and he seemed as much a fish out of water as she felt.
She’d been shocked to find the vast house empty except for the two of them, no staff members running around, no caretakers, no assistant, nobody at all. He’d given his entire staff a vacation during her visit. She felt an extreme sense of relief at that announcement, though it was tempered with incredulity. His staff. So hard to absorb.
And now here they were, out having lunch together as any two people would in their situation, only they weren’t just any two people, and this was lunch in a fish bowl.
Colin had managed to convince her they should just go out, have fun, let him show her the things he liked about living in L.A. Sure, the press would know she was here, but his house was way more insulated than hers had been, and it wasn’t like their relationship was a secret anymore. She was going as his date to the Screen Actors Guild Awards the next night anyway, so they couldn’t take her preferred route and hide out.
Besides, she was tired of hiding out. She’d been shutting herself off from the outside world for weeks—it was the lesser of two evils. She despised the constant self-consciousness she felt when she was out in public now. People were so brash, so rude when it came to celebrity. Everybody around her either wanted a piece of her or they wanted to critique her. It was as if the minute her face had graced the cover of a tabloid she’d relinquished all rights to a normal life, to privacy, to a bad hair day.
The hardest part of it was that the celebrity wasn’t even hers—at least, not all of it. She and Colin were both being accused in the press of piggybacking off each other’s fame. Him, to finally land a major movie deal and break out of the small screen roles that had made him famous. Her, to sell more books and build her movie franchise. It couldn’t be further from the truth, for her at least. From her standpoint, added fame was the price she paid to be with Colin, not its benefit.
At that thought, a loud whisper reached her from the sidewalk, and the tips of her ears went up in flames.
“Ohmigawd! Emily, look—it’s Colinmel.”
She cringed, involuntarily straining to hear the camera’s click. No. Hell no, she didn’t want to be famous. Fame was the biggest complication in her life right now, bigger than the writer’s block that had plagued the end of her series, bigger than the fact that she and Colin never saw each other. Bigger, even, than the emotional mess she’d been since Ashley Howell had crashed her web conference and rocked her world.
At that thought, Amelia’s stomach muscles clenched. The fire spread from her earlobes to her cheeks as she imagined Noah looking at the tabloid covers, maybe even reading the things people were writing about her. What did he think about her life now? Was he amused? Bothered? Happy for her? Her nervousness and fear were even worse now that they were mingled with guilt and shame.
“Just ignore them.”
Amelia glanced up in surprise. “Huh?”
“There’s nothing we can do about it. Just ignore them. You’ll be so much happier that way.” Colin’s voice was a low murmur, his eyes intent on her face.
She raised her eyebrows, surprised he’d even noticed the two teenagers who were still goggling at them from the sidewalk. “Oh, yeah. I know. They’re not bothering me,” she hedged. “I was…thinking about something else.”
His brow furrowed. “What, the book? There’s nothing you can do about that right now either, you know. It’s out of your hands.”
She smiled weakly. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’m sure it’s better than you think it is, anyway. You’re always too hard on yourself.”
And he was too easy on her. Amelia shook her head. He’d let her off the hook—but that only added to her guilt. Colin knew she’d been struggling with the b
ook, but what he didn’t know was why. He didn’t know that in the last three months, not a single day had passed that she hadn’t thought about a man who wasn’t him. Of course, the book was the reason for that, but it went beyond that now. Noah no longer felt distant, like a ghost from the past. His presence in her life was real, and it tormented her.
All of it, everything, had been her fault. All the agony, all the years without him. All for nothing. He didn’t do it!
He didn’t sleep with Ashley. And he didn’t even know it—she was sure of that. If Noah had suspected what Ashley had done to him, he never would have let her walk away. No, he’d blamed himself for what had happened.
Amelia remembered how he’d looked the last time she’d seen him. Like he was being tortured. She’d been the one administering the torture. She’d never seen it that way before, but then, she’d always thought of herself as the victim in the situation.
And Noah—oh, God, Noah—was the victim all along.
She hoped with all her heart that he was happy now. In her loneliest moments in the last few months—the times she and Colin were too busy even to talk to one another, let alone make plans to see each other—she’d fought a deep, insistent urge to seek Noah out. Shouldn’t he know what had really happened with Ashley? But how could she tell him that? How could she confront him at all? He’d think she was mental. Not only had nine years passed, but he’d moved on. She remembered Brooke’s words from the night of Reese’s wedding: “I saw Noah a couple months ago. He had a girl with him.”
If he’d taken a girl home to Illinois, obviously they were serious. It wouldn’t be fair for her to intrude on that. And then, of course, there was Colin to consider. She doubted he’d be thrilled if she suddenly decided to reconnect with a former fiancé, especially with the media following her every move. With her luck, they’d sniff out the whole sordid story and plaster it on tabloid covers.
No, she definitely couldn’t talk to Noah.
It was all a moot point anyway. Who was she to think he’d care about their ancient history? And even if he did, what did it matter? As far as he and the rest of the world knew, she was engaged to somebody else.
Without meaning to, she groaned out loud.
“What?”
Startled, Amelia looked up and shook her head. “Nothing. I mean, I just don’t know what to order. Everything sounds good.” She bit her lip.
“Hmm,” Colin said, glancing back down at his menu. “I’ve heard the duck fried rice is really good. And they have awesome pizzas.”
She smiled. He’d let her off the hook again, but this time she was glad—their “engagement” was the last subject she wanted to bring up. It was just another false, dumb rumor, but it was being perpetuated by the press and had spiraled out of control.
Two months earlier, a blogger had posted a picture of Amelia with what looked like a ring on her left ring finger. Within a day, two major tabloids had similar images on their covers. Before she and Colin even had a chance to deny the rumor, it went viral. And now no matter how much they refuted it—even in legitimate interviews—it was still being reported as fact.
People seemed to think she and Colin were covering it up, trying to maintain some laughable level of privacy, but Amelia knew they just wanted to believe the lie more than the truth. Almost every day she read a new report about her supposed wedding. She’d learned which locations she and Colin were scouting, the dates they were considering, their potential honeymoon spots. Last week she’d watched a ten-minute talk show discussion about which fashion designer would create her dress.
Colin seemed to think it was hilarious—he’d started answering her calls with “How’s my bride?”—but to her the jokes weren’t funny so much as uncomfortable. The word “marriage” had never entered their conversations before this tabloid mess. She couldn’t imagine Colin wanting to marry her, and she couldn’t imagine marrying him either, at least not anytime soon. For one thing, they’d barely spent time together in the seven months they’d been dating. For another, she had serious doubts about whether she could survive in Colin’s world long term—she was having a hard enough time surviving it this week.
Her thoughts shifted to another wedding, the one she had planned once. She thought about the dress she’d picked out, the small group of friends and family who would have filled every pew of the tiny church. She pictured Noah, tall and handsome in a crisp black tux…
Lost in her reverie, she didn’t notice the server, himself clad in crisp black and white, who’d appeared beside her.
“Ma’am? What may I bring you?”
She jumped, her cheeks flushing crimson yet again. She dropped her eyes to the menu and read the first entry they landed on.
“Um, I’ll have the smoked salmon salad with artichoke risotto.” Ugh. She didn’t even like artichokes. Oh, well. That was the price she paid for thinking taboo thoughts.
She glanced up at Colin, who was studying her curiously. The server rounded the table to him, so painfully courteous he appeared almost bored. She’d noticed that L.A. waiters and waitresses seemed totally desensitized to celebrity. If only everybody felt that way.
“And what for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the prosciutto wrapped chicken.”
“Yes, sir. Did you decide on any appetizers?”
His eyes flashed back to hers. “Yeah, you know what? We’ll have the…um.” He glanced back down at the menu, “the Mediterranean tapas, please.”
The server nodded, smiled, and then bowed his thanks and hurriedly retreated. Amelia’s eyes trailed after him.
“Tapas?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.
“Yeah, I thought you’d probably still be hungry later if all you eat’s a…what was it, a smoked salmon salad?” Colin scrunched his face up as she tossed her napkin halfheartedly in his direction again. He leaned down and snagged it from the terra cotta bricks at their feet and handed it to her.
“It sounded good.”
“You never even looked at the menu,” he corrected. “I’d kill to know what you’re thinking so hard about over there.”
“Well, I wouldn’t recommend that,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “The tabloids would have a field day.”
He gave her a wry smile. “Come on. Penny for your thoughts.”
She chuckled. “My grandfather used to say that. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody use that expression who was under fifty.”
Colin gave her a hurt look, but his eyes were amused. “Are you saying I’m not cool?”
“Yep. You are soooo uncool. I’m ashamed to be seen with you.” She smiled and reached forward to brush the back of his hand with her fingers. He flipped his hand up to enclose her fingers in his, and she was glad the distraction was effective.
Because he couldn’t pay her enough to tell him what had just been on her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Close-Up
Noah, January
Noah glanced up from the plans he was studying, his vision blurred from hours of intense concentration. He blinked into the late afternoon sun, which was softened only somewhat by the filmy, perpetual haze that seemed to hover like a dome above the whole of the L.A. landscape.
An involuntary grimace crossed his lips as he thought about this place he was just beginning to get to know. The hotel he was helping get off the ground—literally—was his first-ever West Coast project. It represented a new milestone for him, but he was having trouble seeing it that way.
This city left a bad taste in his mouth.
For months now—since that day in October when Erin had left him alone, completely alone, in his condo…the same day he’d seen the news of Amelia’s engagement to Colin—he’d been hit with a stronger dose of Hollywood than he thought he could stand. Being here, so close to the source of his tension, was unnerving.
The buzz about Amelia and Colin’s relationship was everywhere he looked. Maybe it wouldn’t seem that way if he could stop himse
lf from looking for it, but he couldn’t. Now that he didn’t have Erin’s feelings to consider, his will to resist his daily fix of Colinmel gossip had melted entirely away. Daily. Right. More like hourly, he thought miserably, his fingers twitching toward the phone in his pocket. He didn’t know why he was torturing himself over Amelia’s relationship with Colin. Just because Erin was gone, just because she’d left him with some half-baked notion that he needed to track Amelia down, well, that didn’t change anything. Erin’s permission didn’t give him any more right to intrude on Amelia’s new life than he’d had when he wasn’t single.
Especially since she was happy. That was the real rub. As he sank deeper into this lonely, bitter space he now occupied, her happiness only seemed to increase by the day. He could see it in her face, in the pictures of her he needed like he needed air. She was in his life again, sort of, and he didn’t know how to let that go.
He tilted his neck back, letting the warm sunshine spill across his face and wash away his dark thoughts. He gulped in a lungful of Southern California air, warm even in late January, as a breeze danced across his skin and ruffled the pages in his hands—plans for the fifteen-story structure that would soon fill the empty space in front of him. His eyes traveled across the mounds of dirt and rubble that were slowly being lifted and hauled away as workers readied the site for construction.
He’d been in L.A. for three days, his travel schedule no less exhausting than it had been a few months earlier. This was the third hotel he’d seen move from concept to some stage of reality in six months, a thought that made his head spin. But it had kept him absurdly busy, and busy was good.
“Noah!”
Ripped from his thoughts, he glanced around to see where the call had come from. His eyes fell on Adam Russell, project manager for the Dallas-based development group behind the hotel chain. He’d been hanging out with Adam more and more at home and out at hotel sites—their work often landed them in the same place at the same time.
Now a Major Motion Picture Page 27