“I love it. Your island is the size of my entire kitchen. You’ve done well for yourself, Rigby.” Troy took another swig from his mug, giving Elle a genuine smile.
“I know it’s a little much, but it’s growing on me.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t downplay your success. You should be proud of this, of everything you’ve accomplished. I know I am.”
“That means a lot to me.”
“It’s the truth.”
An awkward silence hung over the knotted walnut table. Elle played with the corner of the lime green place mat below her mug. She wasn’t sure of what to say to Troy. She hadn’t expected him to be in her home quite so soon, but the situation had become unavoidable due to her behavior the night before.
“About last night,” he began and anxiety spread throughout her body, unsure of what he might say. She didn’t want to embarrass herself any more than she already had the night before.
“I know.” Elle closed her eyes tight, clutching her mug. “It was wrong of me to show up like that.”
Troy leaned back in his chair, scratching lightly at his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “How much do you even remember?”
“Honestly? Not much.”
“That’s to be expected, I guess.”
“Did I humiliate myself? You can be honest.”
“Not at all. I promise,” Troy deadpanned. He was sparing her feelings; she could feel it in her gut. He always was a terrible liar, especially when it came to her and her ability to humiliate herself. Her eyes were sore; she had a strong feeling she’d cried.
Dammit, she thought, cursing the inventor of the martini and all bartenders who served them.
“I have to ask you something.” She felt courage brewing inside her. She had to know. “Why’d you let so much time go by? I mean—would you ever have found me again if I hadn’t stumbled into your restaurant by mistake?”
“Honestly?”
Elle shrugged, closed her eyes briefly, and shook her head, attempting to stay casual and add lightness to her voice. “Why not?”
He looked down at the floor, shaking his head slowly, ever so slowly. “I’m not sure. It never felt like the right time and it was easier to just avoid you. I was angry for so long.”
“I know.”
“There was a time when I never thought I’d stop being angry at you.”
“And now?”
Troy shrugged. “Jury’s still out, I guess. But it’s no longer a unanimous vote.”
“Hmm.” That was the only thing Elle could manage to say.
“And you?”
“My jury?” Elle asked with a slight smile.
“Yeah.”
“They’ve never been unanimous.”
Troy said nothing, but nodded slowly, breaking eye contact.
What Elle didn’t tell Troy was the jurors were forming a coup against the one cynical, judgmental juror who wanted Troy to walk out of her house and never return. The jurors in her mind were throwing chairs, punching walls, doing anything they could to make that one simple voice go silent. But that juror wouldn’t budge and she reminded Elle that no matter how smooth this conversation was going, no matter how much she loved being in the same room as Troy, there was still so much to discuss before they could ever consider themselves healed. And Elle knew that bitch of a juror was right.
“Listen, I should go.”
“Are you sure? I—”
“Yeah, I need to close out the registers from last night and get the kitchen prepped.”
Elle hung her head, realizing Troy had skipped those things the night before to take care of her drunken self. “Of course. Thank you again . . . for everything.”
Elle walked Troy to her front door. Feeling brave, she asked. “Will I see you again?”
“I certainly hope so. Just lay off the booze next time, okay?”
Elle laughed behind her hand. “I promise.”
Troy opened his arms to her and she entered his embrace, savoring the familiar feel of his arms around her. When Troy pulled back, he looked into Elle’s eyes and placed the tiniest of kisses on her lips, his lips gently grazing hers. Before she had the chance to choose whether or not to return the affection, he pulled away, his eyes still closed for a short moment as if he was savoring their gentle contact. Elle swallowed hard, wishing he’d press his lips to hers once again. But he didn’t. He simply smiled and walked slowly to his car, pausing to wave before climbing into the vehicle.
Elle closed the door, pressing her back against it. Once again, her brain was inundated with thoughts of Troy—their past, their awkward encounters in the present. With his reemergence into her life, Elle wondered if she’d ever be able to stop thinking about him. If the jurors inside her head were any indication, it was going to be a struggle.
After a long hot shower, several cups of coffee, and a decent breakfast, Elle was feeling less stricken by the previous night’s activities. To her relief, it was a Saturday. She took the opportunity to lose herself in a good story. She hadn’t read a full-length novel in ages. It was time for her to rectify that.
Elle grabbed her iPad, tapped on her Kindle app, and scrolled through the latest titles she’d grabbed online. While scrolling, she reminisced as she eyed her own titles on the device.
She’d written four books, each one about her relationship with Troy. She’d transformed their complex love story into an ongoing saga between Desmond and Molly. She’d poured her heart into those novels, but each had a very clear message.
She was fine.
No matter what happened with Desmond, Molly was resilient, strong, stoic. She could take anything, handle anything, deal with anything. She was a clear projection of how Elle longed to be while carrying out her day-to-day life and while dealing with her and Troy’s heartbreaking past.
She tapped on the first book in the series, reading the title page aloud to herself: I’ll Follow the Sun by Eleanor Riley. The network had shortened it for the television series, in order to make it more succinct, more modern. She turned to the first page.
Chapter 1
Whoever said love was blind never met Desmond Fiore.
He owned any room he entered, his charisma bouncing from the walls of the casinos of Las Vegas, captivating the women around him.
And despite the fact that he was her greatest competition, Molly Lynch was drawn to him in a way she resented and despised.
Elle laughed at the first words of her book, immediately remembering the emotions she felt when constructing those first sentences. She turned the pages several at a time, skimming through Desmond and Molly’s ups and downs, their fights and makeup sessions, their failed attempts at romance, and the moments that made her knees buckle with passion.
Their story was worthy of telling.
Unlike in years past, she wondered if perhaps Molly didn’t have it all figured out. Maybe Molly had a lot to learn about Desmond. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe, take care of her. But more than that, despite everything, he was proud of her and everything she’d accomplished. Tears threatened to build in Elle’s eyes as she was struck with that realization.
In the books she’d crafted, Desmond was never proud of Molly. Did he protect her? Yes. Did he care for her? In his own way. But this character she created from memory, from the longings of her heart, was jaded, flawed, and not quite accurate.
And for the first time in ten years, as she read through the passages in that first novel, she wondered if perhaps their story wasn’t quite over.
Her reading was interrupted by the ping of her cell phone. She grabbed it, hoping to hear from Whitney. Her friend was smart. She took measures to maintain her safety when going home with men; however, Elle couldn’t help feeling protective of her when Saturday mornings rolled around. Over the years, she’d requested a simple text to let her know all was well.
To her surprise, when she glanced at the screen, it wasn’t a text from Whitney, but rather one from Luke.
I miss you.
Any plans today?
Elle smiled as she stared at the simple words. Despite her unfinished business with Troy, she was still drawn to the handsome actor. Despite Luke’s naivety about the world of Hollywood, or his possible flirtation with his leading actress, Elle was in no hurry to end their relationship.
Luke relaxed her like no other man had in the past. He fascinated her with his laid-back nature, and being near him satisfied her in a new and inexplicable way.
No plans. What’d you have in mind?
Elle placed the phone back down and moved her attention back to her book. Before she could even find her place in the story, her phone pinged once again.
You. Me. Whatever you want.
Excitement stirred in her belly as she thought about a day spent with Luke. She made a firm decision not to mention anything about Gina or the pictures of them at the bar. She was going to enjoy him, trust him, lose herself in him. She wanted to enjoy how he made her feel and nothing more.
Come over.
With a spring in her step, Elle jogged up her winding staircase and promptly changed into a hot-pink sundress with a plunging neckline. She placed a pair of strappy sandals on her feet and proceeded to fix her hair and makeup. By the time she’d finished applying, her doorbell rang. She smiled at her reflection before jogging downstairs to answer the door. She was so focused, she almost missed the text message from Whitney:
Home safe and sound. “Big Mac” was just that.
Elle rolled her eyes, but laughed as she tucked her cell back into her pocket and opened the door. “That was quick.”
Luke removed his sunglasses and placed a kiss on her cheek before crossing the threshold to enter her home. Without knowing it, he’d worn an outfit that complemented hers perfectly. A faded navy blue t-shirt that pulled at his pec muscles and dark washed jeans that hugged his muscular thighs.
“I couldn’t wait.”
“Good.” Elle drank him in with her eyes, willing herself to be strong enough not to simply drag him up to her bedroom immediately. She wanted to spend more time with him, learn what made Luke Kingston tick, discover if they had much in common. Their sexual chemistry was undeniable, but their intellectual chemistry was still undecided.
Closing the space between them, Luke wrapped an arm around her waist, nuzzling into her neck.
“You smell good. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Great. I made a reservation at The Ivy.”
The swirls of excitement in Elle’s belly dropped to the floor. The Ivy was known for celebrity sightings. Not only that, it was littered with paparazzi. The Ivy was a place she’d avoided successfully since moving to California and she had no intention of ever eating there. Elle was a private person. Luke knew that, and despite the promise she’d made herself earlier not to mention Luke and the photos of him with Gina, she was not willing to compromise her desire for a private life.
“The Ivy? Why would you want to go there?” Elle didn’t want to sound accusatory in her question, but she was feeling unsettled. Why would Luke want to take her there knowing how private she was? Especially after he’d already been photographed just a few days prior.
“What do you mean? They have this killer patio. I thought we could enjoy the sunshine.”
“Luke, I thought you knew how I felt about places like that. If you don’t, then I need to be more clear. I have no interest in participating in the Hollywood game. I don’t want to spend my weekends looking for photo ops or avoiding paparazzi. It’s not how I’m built. It’s not how I want to live my life.”
“Oh.” Luke took a step back, running his fingers through his waves. “I hadn’t really thought about that. My agent suggested it when I spoke to her yesterday.”
“Your agent?”
“Yeah. But I mean, it’s not a big deal. If you don’t want to go there that’s fine.” Luke placed his hands loosely on his hips, waiting for Elle’s answer.
She hesitated before speaking. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
“You pick.” His behavior was nonchalant. Somehow with Luke, things never seemed to erupt into a full-blown altercation, which was not what Elle was used to. With Troy, things always seemed to become something worthy of discussion. Luke’s lack of concern was confusing. Did he just not care enough to fight with her? Or could she stand to learn a thing or two from his relaxed demeanor?
Elle chose a quiet bistro in Santa Monica overlooking the sand and surf. They feasted on oysters, scallops, and shrimp scampi. The soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the sand calmed Elle’s nerves and helped her relax. Luke held her hand as they ate. They talked about the show, which was holding its own in the Nielsen ratings. The network was pleased with Luke’s role on the show and the new love story developing between his character and Gina’s.
“You won’t believe what’s happening on Twitter.”
Elle finished chewing before responding. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve gained thousands of new followers in just a few weeks. Two hundred new ones just this morning. It’s crazy. I mean, crazy awesome, but crazy.”
“I’m sure that’ll continue. The viewers love you,” Elle deadpanned.
“Geez, you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No.” Elle shook her head, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m thrilled they’re loving you on the show. I’m just—I don’t know . . .”
“Talk to me. First the Ivy and now this. What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”
“It’s nothing, I just . . . It’s really easy for all of this to go to someone’s head. In some ways, it’s almost unavoidable. I’d just hate for that to happen . . .”
“It’s not going to change my feelings for you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s not it.” She shook her head vehemently. “I just think it’s important to avoid all of the craziness, stay on the perimeter. The Ivy, Twitter, Facebook fans, dodging the paparazzi—it’s all very Hollywood.”
“And you think I’m too Hollywood?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she answered honestly.
“I’ve been a struggling actor for eight years. And now, I’m on the biggest show on television. Do you understand what a thrill that is for me? How it’s changed my life?”
Elle nodded, attempting to put herself in Luke’s shoes. He’d worked for years to achieve this—of course he was allowed to celebrate his newly earned success. She just didn’t want it to consume him. She’d seen it happen so many times before. When Gina first auditioned for the role of Molly, she was one of the sweetest actresses Elle had met during the casting process. But now . . .
“Of course,” she conceded, “I’m sorry. I really am happy for you.”
“Try to relax. Everything has a way of working itself out.”
She could only hope Luke was right. But her thoughts weighed heavily in her gut. As much as she loved spending time with him, having him in her life and exploring their sexual relationship, she worried they were on two very different paths. The path Luke was on led to fame, fortune, and women fawning at his feet while photographers sold pictures of him and said women to the highest bidder. The path she was on was pointed in the exact opposite direction. Only time would tell if those paths would merge or eventually split in two.
Elle, there’s a call for you on line one.”
Elle snapped her swollen eyes from her computer, wiping them with a tissue. She was in the process of writing Nolan’s last lines on the show. It was an emotional scene. After all, she was, for all intents and purposes, saying good-bye to the character of Desmond to make way for David. She’d accepted this inevitable event on her show, but knowing what Desmond represented made her especially vulnerable to carrying it out.
“Elle Riley.”
“Elle, Sebastian Crane.”
Elle inhaled deeply at the squeaky voice of Gina’s loathsome agent. Sebastian Crane was a hotshot agent who re
presented several big television stars. Infamous for his Napoleon complex, Sebastian had no problem hoisting his ego around town on behalf of his clients. Sebastian Crane represented everything Elle despised about the industry. He was ostentatious, pushy, and greedy as hell.
“Sebastian, what a pleasure.” Elle did her best to hide her displeasure at receiving his call. “What can I do for you?” Elle hated the facade she was forced to hide behind when dealing with Hollywood players like Sebastian. But she’d learned it was a necessary evil for the sake of her career and the show she loved so much.
“We need to discuss Gina and her future on your show.”
Elle’s gut dropped, anxiety flooding her abdomen. First Nolan, now Gina?
“I don’t understand.”
“She’s feeling a little frustrated, Elle. A little neglected. Catch my drift?”
“Umm, not at all. What seems to be the problem?” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. In what way could Gina possibly be neglected?
“Her screen time. It’s down twenty percent since last season. My assistant ran the numbers.”
“We’ve only shot the first twelve episodes. I assure you she’ll have plenty of screen time.”
Irritation spread through every cell of her body. If Gina was feeling frustrated, why didn’t she talk to Elle directly rather than sending her guard dog?
“I certainly hope so. If not, we may have a problem.”
“Slow down, Sebastian. The thing is, we’ve introduced a new character.”
“I understand that—”
“I don’t think you do. There are three main characters right now. But by the end of the season, Nolan will be gone. It’ll all work out fine. Tell your client to relax.”
“We won’t relax until after contract negotiations.”
No he did not! He did not just threaten me.
Elle took a deep breath, popped open her candy stash drawer, and pulled out a bag of Twizzlers. She took a bite, closed her eyes, and prepared to let Sebastian’s idle threat remain just that—idle.
“Gina is the star of the show. It will all work out fine, I assure you.”
“Great. So we have an understanding.”
Red Carpet Kiss Page 12