The one thing his mother had done from an early age was not wait on him hand and foot. She’d taught him the basics, from putting the washing machine on to cooking some simple dinners. Maybe she’d fretted about him moving to LA and starving to death, unable to fend for himself. In his late teens she would say to him, “I’m training up a future husband.” If only that was the case. His mother had certainly taught him to be clean and tidy, and to look after his appearance. Yes, Steve Mason knew how to iron – not that he did it now, of course. Well, he was doing it now, living with Ruby and being Mediocre Man. But his Hollywood lifestyle led him to have a housekeeper and a personal assistant. He didn’t have time for chores, whether he knew how to do them or not. Why do them if you didn’t have to?
The doorbell rang, and Steve frowned, looking at his watch.
Who the hell could that be? Maybe Daphne. She’d been calling occasionally as Ruby had been offering out Steve’s services to hang a picture, carry something heavy.
“Oh,” he said, opening the door. “Hi.” He was surprised to see Lydia standing there. Steve’s attention was drawn to the huge heart shape on the baggy jumper. She was also wearing skinny faded-blue jeans and brown leather boots, with her handbag across her shoulder.
“Hi, Ruby said it would be okay to come over, I’ve come to exchange books. Is she back yet?”
“No, not yet, but come on in.” Steve realised he didn’t have his glasses on, so as soon as he shut the door he hunted them out and put them on.
Complacent, complacent, complacent. Mediocre Man error.
Lydia removed her boots and followed him into the lounge.
“Tea or coffee?”
“Oh, I wasn’t going to stay long.”
“Go on, you can keep me company for a bit.” Steve winked.
“Tea then, please. I’ll wait for Ruby. She shouldn’t be long, should she?”
“I don’t know with Ruby.” Steve shrugged. “The bookshelf’s there, I’ll get the kettle on.”
Steve knew how Lydia took her tea, they made it enough for each other at work, usually taking it in turns. He came out with a steaming mug and put it on the coffee table. He refilled his coffee, too. Lydia stood behind the sofa peering at the books. Steve gave her an appreciative glance before squeezing past the sofa and joining her. There was something about those slender legs and her beautifully round bottom hugged nicely by the jeans. Her hotel uniform definitely didn’t do her figure justice.
He did find Lydia attractive. Quietly intelligent, and very artistic, she had the most wicked giggle when he got her going.
Trying to deter his attention from Lydia and the way her jumper slipped off her shoulder revealing her collarbone, he pulled a Stephen King off the shelf, flicking the pages. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? “This is mine.”
The bookshelf ran the length of the wall, and up to the ceiling, rammed with books, CDs and ornaments. He looked through the CDs. Some of them were his too. That’s where his The Stone Roses had got to. He’d left for the US with the bare minimum.
Resting against the back of the sofa, he started reading the book.
“Are you all right?” Lydia asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I didn’t realise Ruby had kept this stuff.”
“Oh, what while you went travelling?”
That lie had stuck then. Steve gave himself a mental shake and put the book back.
“So do you swap books often?” he asked, picking up another book, wanting to change the subject.
“Oh, no, I gave Ruby something, and she insisted we swapped. Told me to come over today.”
Steve nodded. Why today?
“She said she’d be back. Must have got caught up or something.” Lydia’s cheeks flushed pink, and she turned her attention back to the bookshelf, looking flustered. Steve shook himself. He’d been staring at her. Steve jumped over the sofa, towards the stereo and put on the CD then rejoined Lydia, happy, with The Stone Roses in the background on low. The music took him back to his teenage years. He resisted singing along, not wanting to scare Lydia. He may be good at acting, to the point he hoped one day to get an Oscar, but he’d never win a GRAMMY with his singing. He would never get cast in a musical.
“So what books do you like?” He nudged her playfully.
“Anything really. Romance, fantasy, or something unusual.”
“Stephen King?” He waved the book he held in his hand at her.
She screwed up her face. “I’m worried he’ll be too scary. Oh, but I haven’t read this one.” She grabbed a book with an orange cover off the shelf. “One Day…have you read it?”
Steve shook his head. “I’ve heard it’s got a sad ending.”
“Don’t tell me that,” she said, eyes widened, and she clutched the book. “I wanted to read it before I watched the film. Books are always better than the film, don’t you think?”
“Ah, yes…” Steve hesitated. Did he want to get onto the subject of movies? “There’s usually more in a book that can possibly be fitted into a movie.”
“I know, it’s such a shame sometimes. I always like to see the director’s interpretation of the book, but I like to read it first to make my own pictures up in my head. I much prefer books over films generally, anyway.”
“I know what you mean.”
“As soon as Daniel Radcliffe started playing Harry Potter, he was in my head as Harry as I read the last books.”
Sitting on the floor, they talked about books, pulling one out from the bookshelf, reviewing it and putting it back, discovering books they’d both read, what they liked and disliked about them. Steve steered the conversation away from movies, and kept it on books or even music where he could, for fear of letting his knowledge about filming slip out. They devoured more tea and coffee, and biscuits – Daphne had rubbed off on him.
“Oh, look at the time, I need to get the dinner on,” Steve said, glancing at his watch – two hours had flown by. Having a late breakfast, he’d skipped lunch, plus drinking and chatting with Lydia had quashed his appetite. But where was Ruby? Maybe she’d run into an old friend, or worse, that Terence, but she’d told Lydia she wasn’t going to be long…Or was she staying away on purpose? “I need to get the beef in the oven.”
Lydia smirked. “Don’t you sound so twenty-first century guy, or has Ruby got you trained?”
“I’ll have you know I make a fantastic roast dinner, and with that remark, you’ve now got to stay and try it.”
“Oh, no, I can’t, really.” Lydia put her nose into One Day, blushing again.
“Have you plans for this afternoon?” Steve hoped she didn’t.
“No, not really, but I don’t want to impose…”
Steve grabbed the book. “Oh, you won’t be. That’s settled because I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Hey, that’s the book I was going to borrow.” Steve stood up, and held the book high, Lydia unable to reach even on tiptoes. Her body was agonisingly close, with a hint of her perfume, Steve wanted to land his lips on hers, but thought better of it.
“I’ll give it back when it’s time for you to go.” He raised his eyebrows, and held the book out. She reached out to grab it and he snatched it away. “Later.”
“Right, well,” she cleared her throat with a lady-like cough, “I’d better help you with this dinner.” She rolled up her sleeves.
Steve turned up the music so they could hear it in the kitchen, and started preparing the food. Lydia peeled the vegetables while he danced around putting the beef in the oven, making her laugh.
“You know, if we’re having beef we should have Yorkshire puddings,” Lydia said. “Where will I find the flour?”
“Don’t call me flower.” He gently nudged her with his hip, his arm brushing her shoulder. “Or petal.”
She rolled her eyes, and listed on her fingers. “Flour. Eggs. Milk.”
Steve reached past her, searching the cupboards. He really enjoyed being so close to Lydia and out o
f the hotel. They hadn’t stopped talking or laughing. She’d almost lost her nervous edge around him, too.
“You don’t know where it is?” She giggled.
“I’ve only lived here a few weeks, Ruby likes to move things around.”
“Just to keep you on your toes, right?”
“Why else?” He grinned cheekily. “She’s strange like that.” He pulled a face and Lydia giggled. “She’s a bit like the bad guy in Sleeping with the Enemy. Likes the labels facing the right way…you haven’t even seen the towels in the bathroom.”
“This is your sister we’re talking about.” Lydia giggled more.
“I reckon Mum brought home the wrong baby.”
Finally, he found the flour and before handing it to her, he opened it up, and gestured she look inside, which she did. Perfect. He grinned as he puffed the bag, then laughed as dusts of flour flew in her face.
“You…rat bag!” she said, a dusting of flour on her nose and cheeks.
“Rat bag?” Steve threw her a tea towel. “Wow, I’m hurt.” He clutched his chest and feigned his agony. “I mean, even Ruby doesn’t call me that.”
She slapped his upper arm, and he caught her wrist, pulling her closer. His heart hammered. How could messing around in a kitchen be so sexy? Lydia’s eyes met his.
“What does she call you then? And why?”
Steve liked the flirtatious tone to her voice. And he didn’t want to ruin it. Steve was not going to divulge Friday night’s mistake, and all the names Ruby had called him. No way. Not now he realised too, remembering Lydia had left early, because he’d invited her out and then totally forgotten about her. Idiot.
“Ruby’s mouth is dirtier than a sewer. You’d be shocked.”
Lydia’s mouth was slightly open, lips moistened, full lips he wanted to kiss. He lent forward, his thumb brushing the last remains of the flour from her cheek…Electricity buzzed between them…
“Hello! I’m home.” The front door slammed.
Ruby.
Still smiling, Steve released Lydia as she gave a little jump, and Ruby came in to the kitchen. “Oh.” She paused, her surprised expression softening. “Oh, I am sorry, Lydia, I totally forgot I’d asked you to come over. I bumped into a friend; we got chatting and ended up having coffee. So sorry.” Ruby poked Steve. “He looked after you, though?”
“Yes, of course I did.”
“Maybe I should go…” Lydia’s gaze darted to the floor, not meeting Ruby or Steve’s eye, while she dabbed her face with the tea towel.
“No, you’re not going,” Steve said quickly, holding up his hands. He wanted to hold her around her waist, pull her closer, but worried Lydia wouldn’t be comfortable with that. “I said she could stay for dinner,” he said, directing it to Ruby. “Well, it’s more like an early dinner.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Ruby nodded eagerly. “Uh, Lydia, you know you’ve got flour all over you?”
Lydia giggled. “Stuart puffed the bag in my face.”
The name stung Steve with disappointment for a moment. He’d wanted to hear her say his name. Why it mattered, he didn’t know. Any romantic intentions he did have with a woman would have to start out with a lie. This was the nature of his disguise. A very thin disguise. Would they accept him when they found out the truth? Would someone like Lydia be interested in a Hollywood hunk, or prefer plain old Stuart? He was caught between a rock and a hard place. If he told women the truth, he’d never know their sincerity. Stripping away his fame and fortune left Steve bare, but it was a lie. What if he fell in love and she felt cheated? Would he be left heartbroken again, as Erica had left him?
And why was he thinking about this with Lydia standing in front of him?
Stop thinking and worrying too much.
“And you’ve still got a spot on your nose.” Wetting his thumb, he wiped her face, his knuckles brushing her cheeks, and an excited pulse jolted through his body and down into his groin. Damn it.
Oh, boy, you are in trouble.
“You put it there.” Pink faced, she whipped him with the tea towel. “Right, well, if I’m staying, I’ll carry on with the Yorkshire puddings.” Lydia turned back to the task in hand. “Have you got a bowl and a whisk?”
Steve pulled a gormless ‘I don’t know face’ and shrugged, allowing Lydia to nudge him again, and Ruby took over, apologising all over again for not coming home earlier. As the kitchen was too small for the three of them, Steve leaned against the doorjamb watching the two women work.
Had Ruby set this up? She seemed to be stumbling over her story about suggesting swapping the books then meeting this so-called friend and forgetting Lydia.
Lydia? Really?
He did like her. There appeared to be something more natural between them than what he had with Alice.
Maybe he should take her out and see what happened…Test the water the way Ruby suggested.
But they worked together, what if it went wrong?
Shit, Steve, you’re hardly there as a career move – in a few weeks you’ll be gone. So what if he worked there? It’s part of the disguise. He’d leave if things got awkward. The whole point of doing an ordinary job was to meet ordinary people under ordinary circumstances – and it was working.
But maybe he’d wait a bit and see how things panned out. Could be nothing, besides Lydia may already have a boyfriend. That jolted him.
Nah, she would have mentioned a boyfriend at work, Steve reassured himself. Lydia had talked about her house and never mentioned living with anyone, not even a housemate. Alice was the one with flatmates, Lydia had a cat…didn’t she?
Time to take more notice of Lydia.
Could he afford to take his time over this? He had to be back in Hollywood for the Oscars, then he’d begin filming his next movie, and there would be all the promotional tours for Nothing Happened. And he wanted to have some sort of relationship, really make sure it was real before he came clean about his true identity. Maybe he should just grab that damn bull by the horns.
The quicker he found out Lydia wasn’t the one, the quicker he could move on, and keep searching.
This wasn’t going to work, was it? You don’t look for love, it finds you. If he forced this into something it wasn’t, both of them could wind up hurt.
But he could still take her out on a date…This wasn’t a marriage proposal. Just a date.
“I thought you were supposed to be making this dinner?” Ruby said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Typical bloke, hands over as soon as he can.”
“No, no, no…” Shaken from his reverie, Steve held his hands up defensively. “I was letting you two get on with the Yorkshire puddings. My job is done for the moment. I’ll turn the potatoes once you’re out of the way.”
“We’re out of the way.” Ruby grabbed a bottle of red wine from the mini wine rack that filled the gap perfectly between the cupboards under the sink and the washing machine. “Glass of wine, Lydia?”
“Oh, I’m driving – so just a small one.”
Ruby pulled three glasses out and filled them up. “Or you can get a taxi.”
“But I have work tomorrow.”
“I can come get you – in your car?” Steve said, taking his glass of wine and handing Lydia hers.
“I’ll see if I get a taste for the wine,” Lydia laughed as she spoke, then took a sip.
Ruby set the table while Steve checked on the food, then he shooed the girls into the lounge so he could prepare his masterpiece. Okay, so, a roast dinner.
When he opened the oven, he was reminded quickly he had his glasses on, as they steamed up, blinding him. He swiped them off his face, so he could continue. Bloody things. How do people cope? If he ever needed glasses, he was getting contact lenses. Before taking the plates to the table, he remembered to put the damn things back on.
As they tucked into their meal, he was pleased to hear Ruby groan with delight.
“Tastes like Mum’s roast potatoes,” Ruby said after swallowing. “You know what this me
ans? Mum was cooking them that way, well before Jamie Oliver.” He grinned.
“I can’t take the credit for the Yorkshire puddings though.” He pointed happily with his elbow at Lydia.
“No you can’t.” Lydia nodded, tucking into her food. “So, Stuart, what else can you cook?”
He rarely cooked, he had people to do it for him, or was wining and dining at some fancy restaurant. He usually made a sandwich, or breakfast, but that was about it. Maybe he should share the responsibility of cooking more with Ruby, get some practice in.
“Not a lot, not since he’s moved in with me,” Ruby said, maybe seeing he was struggling with words. “But at this rate, you’re cooking Christmas dinner.” She raised her glass and they all chinked.
Christmas.
He’d get to spend it with Ruby.
He hadn’t thought of that.
Chapter 13
Thoroughly enjoying the evening, Steve topped up the wine glasses, including Lydia’s, to the point she giggled and said, “I definitely need to take a taxi home.” He’d forgotten she was supposed to be driving.
The three of them had chatted over dinner, then played on the Wii – Steve thought this would keep up his nerdish image – and then Ruby put on a DVD. Having let their beef go down, the three of them ate apple crumble and custard whilst watching the film.
Too busy watching Lydia out the corner of his eye, perched the other end of the sofa, Steve couldn’t concentrate on the film. He wanted to be sitting next to her, cuddling. His interest in Lydia had certainly piqued, but was it only because he hadn’t been close to anyone in a while?
When it was time for Lydia to leave, Steve walked her out to the taxi and paid the driver in advance.
“You don’t have to do that,” Lydia said, reaching for the passenger door. Steve had reached for the handle too, and placed his hand on hers. She giggled, taking her hand away, allowing Steve to open the taxi door for her. With his other hand, he gently rested it on the small of her back as if to steady, protect, or help.
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