“What are you doing?” she said. “Are you trying to make trouble?”
“I don’t understand—”
She narrowed her eyes and peered into his unapologetic stare. “Yes, you do.”
“According to my agent, this is perfectly acceptable. We’re adults.”
“Right,” she scoffed. “Is this a ploy? Because if it is, you don’t need to worry about that. Whitney’s already giving them the go-ahead, they’re drawing up your contract now. You don’t need to do this just to get the job.”
His hand squeezed hers tightly as his head moved slowly from side to side. “Not a ploy.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this why?” Elle tipped her chin toward Luke, but beneath it, her heart was racing so fast, she felt weak.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you—not since we met last week.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”
When Luke responded with a look of confusion, Elle continued. “I’m not blind. I saw the way you looked at Gina.” Her voice was faltering beneath her words. She sounded weak, attached . . . everything she didn’t want to appear to Luke Kingston.
“She is pretty cute . . .” He shrugged before taking her hand in his and lowering it to rest on her hip. “But she’s not who I want.”
Elle released her hand from his grip, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Silence hung in the air.
“I loved reading with her, I’m not gonna lie about that. But you’re the one I think about. Yours is the face that keeps me up at night.”
Still, Elle remained silent, not sure what to say.
“And what happens when this,” she said, motioning between their two bodies, “doesn’t work out? Your contract won’t be up for two seasons. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, Luke. Think this through.”
Elle didn’t do awkward. She didn’t want to avoid a member of her cast, let alone have to resist the urge to kill off his character. There would be table reads, and hundreds of takes during production. She needed to keep her work environment a safe one—one without conflict. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“One date.” He stepped closer, running his hand down her cheek. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his soft hands and forgetting all about the work environment that seemed to matter so much only seconds earlier.
“One night, you mean,” she replied, feeling she had nothing to lose. She was ready to lay her cards out on the table. If Luke was looking for a one-night stand, he’d need to look somewhere else.
“If that’s what you choose,” he corrected her. “But I’m not looking for that.”
“Neither am I.” It was the truth. It’d been quite some time since Elle had been in a romantic relationship, but she knew herself well. She was the type who grew attached. Casual flings were not her thing.
Luke took one more step toward Elle. Her breath caught as she awaited his next move. Leaning in, his lips brushed against hers, not in a kiss, but in a teasing motion, stirring something within her. Back and then forth, he moved his lips ever so slightly to tickle hers. Her chest rose and fell with each second. She longed for him to stop teasing her. Luke moved his feathery touches to her jaw and then to her neck, never kissing her, only touching her just enough to send shivers down her spine.
“Give me a chance, Elle. I’m not that guy, seriously.”
Despite the nagging feeling that this was, in fact, a mistake, Elle closed her eyes and whispered her answer, “One date.”
Luke stood tall and ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s all I’m asking for. Tonight?”
“What time?”
“Whenever you’re free.”
“You’re certainly making this easy.”
“I can’t help it.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, their chests pressed to one another. “This is what you do to me.”
“Seven o’clock?” Elle asked, avoiding the intimacy of their embrace as her heart pumped furiously inside her body.
“Perfect. There’s this wonderful restaurant . . . Angelini Osteria. Have you been?”
“I think so.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up.”
Elle scrunched her lips together before responding. “Actually, I’ll meet you there.”
Luke broke eye contact briefly. “That works too.”
He then placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, released her from his grasp, and walked out the office door. Elle, lost in thought, walked to her office chair, slumping down inside the comfort of the worn leather. Her skin tingled, her heart pounded, and her mind wandered. She was in trouble. Yep. Lots and lots of trouble.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Whitney screeched into the phone. Elle stood in her bra and panties, cell phone pressed to her ear as she held a black lace cocktail dress to her body. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, her bangs swept loosely across her forehead. Her makeup was completed, but she had no idea what to wear. She tilted her head, trying to envision what was appropriate for this date. She didn’t want to be overdressed or too sexy. But then again, not being sexy enough was not an option. Luke had made it clear he was attracted to her, that he couldn’t stop thinking about her . . . and despite her snarky attitude earlier that afternoon, the feelings were completely mutual. She wanted to be just the right amount of sexy.
“I’m fine,” she choked out, placing the black dress back in her closet, trading it for a strapless denim dress with a large brown leather belt.
“I can hear The White Album. You only listen to that when you’re freaking out. Talk to me, Elle.”
Elle cringed at how well Whitney knew her and her habits. Whitney hit the nail on the head when she recognized The White Album—an album with songs laced with creativity and storytelling that eased Elle’s mind when she was feeling anxious and contemplative. By the time she reached “Blackbird” she was usually able to calm herself down. But she was way past “Blackbird” and the adrenaline coursing through her body still hadn’t subsided.
“I have a date. One I’m not so sure about.”
“A date? And you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Oh my God, you caved, didn’t you?”
Elle groaned into the phone. “I couldn’t help it. He’s . . . persistent.”
Whitney laughed.
“Don’t laugh at me. Seriously, this is probably a huge mistake. We both know it.”
“You and Luke or you and me?” Whitney pressed.
“You and me. He has no idea. The guy’s done a few pilots and commercials. He hasn’t done anything long-term yet. He has no idea how awkward this will get when the shit hits the fan.”
“And what if it doesn’t?”
“Be serious. As soon as fans recognize him on the street, I’m toast.”
“That’s a possibility, I guess. But not a given,” Whitney suggested. “And as usual, you’re selling yourself short.”
“No, I’m just a realist. Stardom affects everyone, just in different ways. And I have no idea how it’ll affect him.” Her fingers grazed over the earrings in her jewelry box, finally stopping on a pair of silver hoops.
“So then why bother? Just put your sweats on and hang out with Linus. Avoid, sabotage, and self-destruct.” Elle hated the tone of Whitney’s voice and the condescension reverberating through it.
“Don’t be an asshole,” she replied, slipping one earring through her ear. Quickly, she transferred the phone to that ear and repeated the process with the second earring.
“Whatever. There’s a reason you’re thirty-five and single. No offense.”
“Hey,” Elle said. “I’m not the only one who’s single in this conversation.”
“Okay, first of all,” Whitney began, “I’m thirty-two.”
“Irrelevant.”
“And secondly, I date, and often. I’m perfectly content with my life.”
“And so am I.”
Silence hung in the air. It
was a blatant lie. Elle knew it, and she was fully aware her best friend did too. They’d shared too much for Whitney to play the fool.
Whitney sighed. “C’mon, Eleanor. We both know that’s not true.”
Most people in Los Angeles were not allowed to refer to Elle by her given name, but Whitney was the exception. Even though it graced the covers of her romance novels, since moving to the Los Angeles spotlight, she’d chosen to modernize all aspects of her life, including her name. When Whitney used her true first name, Elle knew she was serious. She’d had enough and needed to make her point, so Elle decided to concede.
“Fine. I understand. I need to loosen up.”
“Thank you. What time are you meeting him?”
Elle glanced down at her watch. “In twenty minutes.”
“Well, shit, I’ll let you go then. Let your hair down, have some fun!”
Elle promised Whitney she’d do her best to enjoy herself. She hung up the phone, placed it on the counter, and pulled the pins from her hair, causing the bun to tumble past her shoulders, her blonde locks forming loose curls that spilled down her back. She took a deep breath and walked back to her closet to finish getting dressed. Then she walked back to the sink, retrieved the pins, and placed them between her teeth. She looked at herself in the mirror, shook her head, and spent five more minutes placing her hair back in a bun.
Luke was already sitting at a small, cozy table at Angelini Osteria when Elle finally arrived, ten minutes later than their reservation. Elle was never late, but Luke Kingston seemed to flip her version of normal on its head. She couldn’t get past her hesitation. She still couldn’t decide if this was all a game to him, a way of making a name for himself in the beginning.
It was easy to say she had trust issues. Since Troy broke her heart ten years earlier, she’d dated . . . sporadically. Whitney had a point when she compared their love lives. The best word to describe Elle’s relationships would be . . . also sporadic. She had dated a few men in Chicago, and a few more since moving to Santa Monica, but none had stuck. Mostly because it was difficult for Elle to separate herself from her show. And to stop sabotaging any chance she had at happiness. When things grew serious with any of the men she’d dated, she found reasons to end each relationship abruptly and without explanation. She couldn’t let go of the past long enough to be happy.
Letting go was hard . . . she hadn’t let go in ten straight years.
When Elle reached the table, Luke, looking all kinds of handsome, set his menu on the table, and rose to meet her. He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “You made it.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
He shrugged, giving her a tight, toothless smile. “After our discussion earlier, I thought maybe not.”
“I honor my commitments.”
She didn’t intend to come off as cold, but she wasn’t quite sure about him—his intentions, his interest in her, it was still murky in her brain.
“As do I.” He handed her a menu. “Have you been here before? The porchetta will change your life.” He took a quick sip of his red wine.
“Porchetta?”
“You’ve never had it? Seriously, it’s to die for, so rich and delicious. You have to try it.”
“Maybe I will.” She felt herself easing up, relaxing into his carefree demeanor.
“Let’s get you a drink. Red or white?”
“Red, please. Pinot noir.”
“Perfect.”
Luke signaled the waiter and promptly ordered a bottle of pinot noir. She hated to admit it, but she loved that he ordered for her. She’d yet to be on a date in Los Angeles where a man acted in such an old-fashioned manner. Secretly, she wondered if he’d been watching reruns of Mad Men. In Elle’s opinion, Don Draper may have been part douchebag, but he knew how to treat a lady in public.
“Where are you from . . . you know, originally?” Luke asked before taking another sip of his drink.
The waiter arrived with the wine and poured a glass for Elle. She thanked him graciously, and took a sip to calm her nerves.
“Chicago. I moved here a few years ago when the network bought the rights to the show.”
“Oh, that’s right, I think I knew that.” Luke chuckled, scratching lightly at the skin of his forehead.
“Did you Internet stalk me?” Elle teased. She liked that he was showing just a hint of vulnerability. It was obvious to her Luke hadn’t meant to ask that question since he already knew the answer. But she’d play along.
“Guilty as charged.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t help myself, I had to know more.”
Elle was flattered. Beyond flattered, actually. But she was trying too hard to keep her poker face intact. She couldn’t let him see how he affected her, especially since she was still smack-dab in the middle of figuring him out.
“Interesting,” she replied, staying coy. “And you, where are you from?”
Luke’s eyes widened in response and he nudged her on the shoulder. “You didn’t read my resume?”
Busted.
No, Elle wanted to answer, I was too busy staring at your gorgeous head shot. The resume only received a tiny glance. “I did, but I don’t remember seeing a hometown listed, only your work in Los Angeles.”
“That’s because I’ve lived here my entire life.”
“Ah, well, that makes sense, doesn’t it?” Elle looked at her empty glass, wondering how she polished off an entire glass of wine during such a short period of time. Luke offered to pour her another glass, but she shook her head. She couldn’t lose control. “Thank you, but I’ll wait for our food to arrive.”
“Sure.”
Silence took up residence at their table, and, feeling awkward, Elle picked up her menu and stared at the dishes, unsure of what to order. Luke followed her lead and glanced at his as well.
“I’m not really a fan of pork, so—”
“The pasta’s great too.”
“Mmm.” She bit into her upper lip as she studied the dishes. “I think I’ll try the sole.”
“Nice choice.”
Menus were placed back on the table and silence reared its ugly head once again. Luke chuckled to himself and poured another glass of wine, raising it to his lips.
“So . . .” He paused, studying her face with narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to solve her like a puzzle. “How is my character coming along?”
There it was. Work talk. She’d waited for that, wondering when he’d cut to the chase. She took a rather large breath in, pursing her lips before speaking. “He’s fine.”
Again, silence.
“I’m sorry, did I . . . did I piss you off or something?”
Elle crossed her arms in front of her chest. “No, why would you think that?”
“Well, I mentioned the show and you shut down. It’s like you built this wall right here.” He motioned with his arm, an invisible line down the center of the table. Elle sensed concern in his knitted brow. She was hurting his feelings—she hadn’t expected that.
She’d come in contact with many self-serving actors in the past. Guys would chat her up at a bar while she was out with Whitney. They’d buy her drinks, ask a few questions about her life, her work, and then parlay it into talking about their careers. Before she knew it, they’d be pulling out a business card or a head shot and she’d feel like a complete fool. Was it fair to assume Luke was the same as those who’d fooled her in the past? Not necessarily, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, he had the role already, but this was his big break, and having an “in” with the creator and head writer of the show could definitely serve him well.
When Elle sat frozen, completely lost in her own quizzical thoughts, Luke spoke softly. “Listen, Elle, I like you. But if you’d rather just . . . I don’t know, have a drink and call it a night, that’s okay.”
“I—I.” She stumbled on her words. She hadn’t expected such a reaction from him.
You’re screwing this up, she thought to herself. She shook her head and reached across t
he table to take his hand in hers.
“No, I’m sorry. Just frazzled, I guess. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
She watched as his face relaxed; he squeezed her hand in return, then raised it to his lips and placed a kiss inside her palm.
“Forgiven.”
Elle didn’t know that one word could reduce her to a pile of mush. But that one did. She sat, stunned as Luke cradled her hand in his.
“I asked about my character because, frankly, I’m excited. I’ve been hitting the pavement for years in audition after audition. This is a big deal for me.”
Elle had never thought about this from Luke’s point of view. His resume was filled with measly projects that probably failed to pay his bills each month. Securing a supporting role on television’s hottest show was life changing for him. She needed to recognize that.
“That makes sense.” She squeezed his hand. “I get it.”
“Look, I know you think I’m some opportunist or something. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. If you give me a chance, you’ll see that. When I’m here with you, I see you—that’s all.”
“And what do you see?”
“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Elle closed her eyes tight, tilting her head in disbelief. There was no way she could believe this gorgeous man was that affected by her appearance. She knew she was attractive, but she was also a realist and knew he’d probably dated his fair share of actresses and models.
“Not only that,” he continued, “I’ve watched the show since it began. It’s smart. Really smart. I’d dare say it borders on brilliance.”
She’d received countless compliments on the show up until this point, but the word brilliance had never been used. She silenced the little voice in her head that told her not to believe him. She found herself swept up in that word, in the sentiment of his compliment.
“Thank you.”
The waiter returned and Luke placed their order. She sat, stirring in her own conflicting thoughts. Part of her wanted to follow Whitney’s advice, walk to the ladies’ room and take her hair down, return to the table and allow Luke to see she was just as captivated by him as he appeared to be by her. But the other part, the dominant part of her psyche, rejected that as foolishness. Pure and utter foolishness.
Red Carpet Kiss Page 4