Red Carpet Kiss

by Melissa Brown

  “Ah yes, you and your samosas. You’ve always been an appetizer girl.”

  Elle liked how playful Troy was being. Their other interactions had been so tense, despite their efforts to keep things friendly. Today, he seemed more at ease, which in turn helped her to relax as well.

  “Nobody gets between me and a mozzarella stick.” Elle felt herself flirting and embraced it. After all their years apart, it felt good to be playful with Troy again.

  “Or an order of nachos . . . or Wisconsin cheese curds . . . should I go on?” Troy winked and handed Elle her menu.

  “Nah, I think we both know my affinity for snack food.”

  “Are you still keeping candy at your desk?”

  “Of course, but only the fruity stuff. I gave up chocolate. Too fattening.”

  Troy shook his head and closed his eyes, chuckling under his breath. “I don’t think you’ve ever had to worry about that.”

  “What? My weight?”

  “Mm hmm, you’ve always had a great body.” Troy’s eyes roamed her as he spoke, centering on her chest. Elle wondered what had come over him—when did he have this sudden change of heart? He looked at her with appreciation rather than contempt, and it filled her heart with hope.

  “Says the man with the permanent six-pack.”

  “Not anymore, I’m afraid. Too much pizza, it’s gone to my gut.” Troy smacked his stomach lightly with his palm. Elle rolled her eyes. His chest and abs still looked as firm as they did when they were a couple, at least with his clothes on.

  “Sure,” she murmured. “I almost believe that.” Troy was never one to fish for a compliment, so she decided he was just being hard on himself. Seeing as he was a perfectionist like herself, that was the obvious conclusion.

  Troy laughed again and finished his glass of scotch. Troy always ordered two fingers of scotch on the rocks before any dinner out, especially Indian food. When he received his first job offer after college, Elle had purchased a bottle of Johnnie Walker Platinum to celebrate. She’d purchased another for herself when the pilot of Follow the Sun first aired. Even though they’d enjoyed scotch together more times than she could count, she didn’t know why she did it, since it was Troy’s drink, not hers. But now guilt swarmed her belly as she remembered that she and Luke opened that bottle. Quickly, she pushed the guilt from her mind. She was determined to enjoy this meal, this evening, this time with Troy.

  Their waitress took their order, and they quickly fell back into old patterns. Ordering two dishes to split as well as a large order of samosas to snack on prior to the entrees. The wine was doing its job. As she indulged in the second glass, tingles ran down her arms, and her muscles relaxed. Troy had finished his scotch and both were able to ease back into old banter.

  Elle’s teeth pierced the first samosa. Steam escaped the small puffy triangle and she relished the savory taste of peas, potatoes, and lentils.

  “Mmm, why have I gone so long without having Indian food?” Elle shook her head in amazement as she savored the flavors in her mouth.

  “How long?”

  A small chunk of potato dropped to her plate and she hoped Troy hadn’t noticed. “Hmm?”

  “How long since you’ve had Indian food?”

  Elle froze and looked down at her plate, avoiding eye contact. “A long time.”

  “I see.” Troy nodded. “Since Chicago?”

  Elle nodded, feeling foolish.

  “Seriously?” Troy’s voice dropped an octave.

  When Elle first entered the restaurant, she had no idea just how long it’d been. She didn’t realize just how many things were tied to her past with this man, just how stunted she’d allowed the past ten years to be without him. It went beyond her love life, beyond her fear of getting hurt. It was permeating her habits, her tastes, everything. She was thirty-five years old. It was time to figure out, finally, who she was.

  Troy cleared his throat. “Rigby?”

  Elle looked up with a confused expression, unaware of how long she’d been lost in thought.

  “Where’d you go?”

  “I was just thinking. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and quickly gulped down the remainder of her wine.

  Troy reached across the table. Elle hesitated briefly, looking at his outstretched arm, before grasping his fingertips with her own. “Maybe we both need to stop thinking so damn much.”

  Elle’s teeth dug into her bottom lip as his words set in. “Maybe.” They ate in silence for several minutes before Elle changed the subject. “Tell me about Payton.”

  Troy sat up tall in his chair, a gleam developing in his eyes. “She’s awesome, such a great kid. I get to see her every other weekend and every Thursday.”

  “That must be hard.”

  “We make it work. I miss her a lot, though.” He scratched the skin of his forehead, looking down at the table. “She’s a lot like me.”

  Elle eased her elbows onto the table, perching her chin on her linked hands. “Like how? Is she stubborn?”

  “Oh yeah, big-time. She’s a pistol. Can’t get much by that kid, she keeps me on my toes for sure.”

  “And her mother?”

  “I guess you could say we’re friends. If it wasn’t for Payton, we wouldn’t be, but we get along just fine. We’ve made the best out of a difficult situation.”

  “That’s really admirable. Obviously, I’m not a parent, but I think it would be hard to raise a child with someone else, especially if you’re not . . . you know, together.”

  Troy shifted in his seat, took another drink, then asked, “How about you? Do you think you’ll ever want kids?”

  Elle didn’t expect that question; even though he delivered it casually, she knew it was loaded. Troy wanted to know how she felt about motherhood seeing as she was thirty-five, single, and without children. She was also married to her job, and worked at least fifty to sixty hours per week.

  “Honestly? I’m not sure.”

  “Really? Did something change your mind? You always said—”

  “I know, it’s just . . . the show is so consuming. I’m not sure I could focus on a baby until it goes off the air. And I’m hoping that won’t be for a long time.” Elle picked at her food, unsure of how Troy would feel about her lack of drive toward motherhood. He was right, though. In her twenties, Elle always assumed she’d have a family. Hell, at that age, she expected to have at least two children by her midthirties. But she also never expected to be the creator of the biggest television drama on any network. Things change.

  “Makes sense. You’d be good at it, though.”

  “You really think so?” She let out a sardonic laugh. “I think I’d be a nightmare. So anal-retentive, so structured and demanding.” She laughed into her napkin.

  “Nah.” Troy studied her face, before licking his lips and smiling. “I think you’d do just fine.”

  For the first time since she entered the restaurant, a shot of adrenaline made its way through her body, making her quite aware of the effect Troy still had on her. His opinion mattered, as it always had. The fact he thought she’d be a good mom was endearing, special. It meant something.

  “Thank you.”

  This time Elle extended her arm across the table, opening her hand in invitation. Troy’s lips formed a soft smile before he placed his hand in hers. They sat in the middle of the restaurant, hands interlocked, and said nothing. They simply smiled at one another, appreciating the common ground they’d managed to find after so many years, and Elle was so grateful.

  “I have to ask you something, and I hope it won’t spoil the night because, so far, it’s been really nice.”

  Tension hung over the table. Elle wrinkled her nose, but squeezed Troy’s hand, waiting for his question.

  “Are you still seeing that guy? The one you brought to my place?”

  There was no way Elle would lie. She had to be honest. Instinctively, she pulled her hand from Troy’s. He stared down at the empty space be
tween them. “Yes. We’re dating, but we’re not a couple or anything just yet.”

  Troy’s forehead relaxed and he scratched the back of his neck. His cheeks turned pink as he grinned. “Okay, cool.”

  “Cool?” Elle was amused. She’d expected tension, a possible ultimatum or a warning from Troy that he wouldn’t get involved with her if she was seeing someone else. But instead he wore a boyish grin on his handsome face and she wished she could read his mind, if only for a brief moment, to know what was going on in his head.

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish I could read your mind right now.”

  Troy leaned in across the table, his eyes boring into hers. “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

  Elle felt bold, as if she had nothing to lose. Her breath was quickening as her eyes remained fixed on Troy’s. “Try me.”

  Troy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Right now, I’m thinking about how good your lips would taste. I’m thinking about how much I want to pay the check, walk out of here, and press you up against the bricks of the building.” He paused for a minute. “Should I go on?”

  Elle had a sudden awareness of her own heartbeat; her fingers tingled with the need to touch and be touched by the gorgeous man on the other side of the table. Those eyes, those soulful brown eyes, focused on hers as if she were the most beautiful creature on the planet.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He glanced around briefly before continuing. “I’m thinking about pressing you against that brick wall, and unbuttoning your blouse. I’d take my time, savoring the look and feel of you as I opened each one.”

  Elle swallowed hard, her palms began to sweat, and her nerve endings stirred beneath her skin. Their hands were still enmeshed on the table, and she realized Troy was now stroking her palm with his fingertips. That simple touch left her craving him, as much of him as she could possibly obtain. She wanted to make the table vanish, to push it all aside, eliminating all distance between her and the man who was making her heart pound out of control.

  “What else?” She parted her legs slightly, feeling completely enveloped in her need for Troy.

  “I’ll pay the check and then I’ll tell you. How does that sound?”

  “Good.”

  Troy released her hand and rose from the table. He walked to the other side of the restaurant, where their waiter happened to be standing. He pulled him aside, opened his wallet, and handed him a bundle of cash. Then, with a cocky grin, he joined Elle, who managed to stand despite her wobbly and weakened knees.

  When he took her hand and led her outside, Troy did exactly what he had described inside. The brick felt harsh against her back, but it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to touch and explore every inch of Troy’s body. His lips crashed against hers. One hand cupped her ass as the other toyed with the collar of her blouse.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” she murmured between kisses as Troy unbuttoned the first button of her blouse. “I’ve missed this.”

  “Shhh,” Troy whispered, popping the next button, exposing the lace of her bra. His fingertips danced over the exposed fabric, tickling her sensitive skin, creating a delectable shiver down her spine. His lips pressed again to hers, and immediately Elle opened her mouth, inviting him in. He deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his own in determined yet gentle strokes. Arousal built within her as her hands roamed his back, his neck, his hair.

  “Should we go somewhere . . . somewhere more private?” Elle asked, suddenly aware they were in public when she heard the voices of people walking past the restaurant. “Your place, maybe?”

  “No,” Troy answered.

  Elle pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing him away from her. “No?”

  “I think we should say good night.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Elle’s vision became clouded, and her throat ran dry.

  “I think we should take things slow.”

  “You call this slow?” She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. She planted her feet in a wide stance, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What’s going on, Troy? Are you still pissed off? Is this all a game to you?”

  Troy ran his fingers through his hair. “No, of course not. You know me better than that.”

  “Maybe not.” Her fingers fumbled to button her blouse. She felt ridiculous, foolish, like Troy was playing with her emotions. Turning her on only to walk away from her. She’d felt that ten years ago; she didn’t want to feel it again.

  Troy pushed her bangs from her eyes. “Don’t say that. I promise you, I’m not playing games. I’m just trying to be respectful . . . and I want to be sure before anything . . . happens.”

  They locked eyes and Elle knew exactly what Troy was trying to say. He didn’t want to sleep with her only to realize he could never truly forgive what happened in Las Vegas. He didn’t want to lead her on.

  “But I want to see you again.” He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. “God, I want to see you again.”

  Troy’s lips pressed gently to hers and she relaxed, hoping to God he wasn’t leading her on. She wanted to trust him so badly, yet wanted to run far, far away from the utter confusion only Troy could bring.

  “When?” she asked, glaring at him with daggers in her eyes, still questioning his intentions.

  “Saturday night.”

  “What about the restaurant?”

  “I’ll make it work.”

  “Okay, fine. Saturday.”

  They walked in silence to Elle’s car. The only sounds were the cars whizzing by and the clicking of her heels against the pavement. With a chaste kiss, they said good night, and Elle drove home more confused than ever.

  Why did things have to be so damn complicated?

  Elle was running late. She was needed on set, but was having trouble getting her things together. Her mind was jumbled—a mess. She couldn’t focus and she was pretty sure she knew why.

  Today was the day they would shoot Luke and Gina’s first love scene. Their characters had shared a couple of kisses, enticing the audience with their chemistry and banter. But now, it was time for the story to take their relationship to the next level. Elle had written the scene, but hadn’t thought about how it would feel to shoot it. She contemplated skipping the shoot. After all, Rob was the director and could handle it. But she’d never missed a shoot. Not ever. And she wasn’t about to begin now. Yes, her feelings for Luke were strong—stronger than she expected when they first got involved. But her show . . . her show had always been, and would continue to be, her first priority. She was needed on set, and so that was where she’d be.

  Her cell phone buzzed as she parked her car in the studio lot.

  Troy.

  His voice was soft when she answered the phone. “I hate to do this, but I have to postpone our dinner.”

  Although Elle was disappointed, she didn’t want to convey it. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s just . . . Payton’s mom needs to switch weekends, so I have her Saturday.”

  A smile crossed her face and for just a moment she allowed herself to get excited about the potential for meeting Troy’s daughter. “No need to cancel, I’d love to meet her. We can go to dinner, or maybe a movie? They’re adapting another YA book into a movie, maybe we could—”

  “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Rigby.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t introduce Payton until I’m involved in something serious. In almost nine years, she’s met only two women.” When Elle said nothing, Troy sighed. “It’s just . . . it’s too soon. I hope you understand.”

  Elle knew it was too soon, and she knew Troy was being logical and protective over his daughter, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed and rejected. It seemed that, more and more, she could hear the distrust in his voice. He could deny his anger to her, but part of her wasn’t sure he could ever really forgive her. She brushed that feeling off, knowing she was not a parent, and that an entirely new set of rules app
eared when one took on that role.

  “Of course.” Her stomach clenched. “We’ll reschedule for another time.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he added. “I was looking forward to it.”

  “I was too.” Elle cleared her throat, ignoring the tightening in her chest. “Well, you have a good weekend with Payton and we’ll connect sometime next week.”

  “Thanks for being cool with this. I was nervous to call.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re a dad first—I get that. We’ll reschedule, it’s no problem.”

  She hung up the phone, placed it in her purse, and entered the studio, determined to push Troy from her mind. The moment she saw Gina, she was reminded of the scene they were about to shoot. Gina was dressed in nothing but a strapless bra and panties, a sheet wrapped around her as she strutted across the set. The makeup team had done a hell of a job, bringing out the best in her features. Her dark eyes were doe-like, giving her a soft yet sexy appearance that would translate to viewers at home. A knot formed in Elle’s stomach as Gina approached.

  “Have you seen Luke?”

  Elle clenched her jaw at the question, not wanting to think about them lying together on the set, going through the motions of an intimate encounter. Yes, there were half a dozen cameras taping their every move, their every embrace, their every kiss to make sure the lighting was perfect and that the feel of the scene was appropriate. It was far from romantic. But that didn’t make it any less concerning to Elle.

  “No, sorry. I just got in.”

  “Well, if you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. I want to show him my outfit.” Gina flipped her hair and gave Elle a devious wink before walking away. Just before she was out of earshot, Gina yelled back to her, “Oh, and tell him it’s time to decide. My publicist needs an answer.”

  Elle stared back at Gina with confusion, but rather than chase after the actress (which was exactly what Gina wanted) she pulled herself together, smoothed down her clothing, and joined Rob at the craft services table. Knowing she had no candy in her purse, she grabbed a doughnut and a napkin and plopped down in her chair.