“Pfft,” he scoffed. “That’s a boring team.”
This time I did end the call before he could say anything else.
Equally entertained and flustered by the online impact my fake love-life was having, I remained in bed poring over more posts. From moment to moment I ping ponged back and forth between laughing and wanting to throw things. I was half tempted to throw my phone when I saw Luis’ name on the lit-up screen.
“Was all this part of the plan?” I started in on him.
“We’ve got everything handled, Riley,” he gritted out. “This isn’t even a setback. The crash and drugs are all but forgotten amidst this new drama, and that is what we wanted, even if this isn’t what we expected.”
“Not entirely forgotten,” I muttered. A few comments were still floating around about my supposed fall from grace into drug abuse. Not many. My tell all about Warren Baker had silenced most of the vicious rumors, but admitting to Luis that he was right wasn’t something I could bring myself to do at the moment. If ever.
“Soon they will be. In the wake of the premier next week, no one will be talking about anything but you and Hunter. Which brings me to the best news, the deal with Disney is still on the table. I spoke with them this morning, and they still want you for the part, but they’re not going to wait any longer. They want the contract signed by end of business tomorrow, or they’re moving on to someone else.”
Silence fell over the line when I didn’t respond.
“Riley, are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you. But I guess you haven’t been hearing me. I’m not signing it.”
It was his turn to go silent and I could imagine the veins bulging in his head as he worked to maintain his calm. “I think you’re making a huge mistake.”
“I understand that you think you know what’s best for me, but this is where you have to start listening to me or I don’t know if we can work together anymore. I’m not taking the Disney deal. After Gertie and Max, and Royal Kisses, no more animated movies, no more teenage dramas, no more rom-coms, or fluffy romances. Not for a while anyway. Red Red Rose was supposed to be my stepping stone to more serious and edgier roles. Scott Lengel said he might have another part for me after the Nancy Wake film, whatever it is, if it’s his project, I want it. You can either make that happen, or I’ll do it on my own.” I heaved out a heavy breath, and with it went all of my uncertainty. I could do this.
“Riley,” he started in that placating, condescending tone of his that always preceded whatever he thought I wanted to hear that would get me to give in. Not this time.
“No, Luis. This is the deal we made in Montana. You promised to listen and stop being so overbearing and controlling.”
A sigh crackled through the line. “I’ll let Disney know to pass the offer to someone else. We can talk about everything else later.”
“Thank you.” And I meant it. I knew how hard it was for him to cede when he thought I was making a mistake. I would just have to prove to him I wasn’t.
“Enjoy your dinner tonight, Riley.” I wasn’t surprised that he already knew about it. Hunter was a good guy, but he’d been in Hollywood since he was thirteen. The games, the lies, the manipulations, and publicity stunts were just a part of life. He rolled with it and I knew he didn’t do much without running it by his team first. The working relationship between his manager, publicist, and himself seemed pretty cohesive. But his manager wasn’t also his stepfather. And Hunter had a penis, which inherently garnered him more respect and power in this industry.
There was something to be said for having boobs though, I thought as I peered down at my own. It was just too bad I couldn’t use them against Luis on account of the eww factor.
Twenty-One
James
I was having such a quiet peaceful morning, sitting at the counter in Riley’s kitchen, enjoying a cup of coffee, contemplating the irony of my situation, both amused and annoyed that I now found myself in the position of having to try and win over a girl who seemed to want nothing to do with me. How the tables had turned, and I found myself once again at odds with a man who wanted the same woman I did. Only this wasn’t the same as Nora. Not even close, because as hard as it was to admit, Spencer was the better man for Nora. She’d made the right choice.
Riley was not making the right choice. I knew it. She knew it. That tool Hunter knew it, but I couldn’t blame him, because if I were in his shoes and had a shot, I’d take it too. He wasn’t the problem. I’d hurt Riley. Badly.
I was an idiot. I didn’t want to admit my feelings for her. I didn’t want them to be real, and the moment they became too real for me to ignore, I fucked it up. And now she was the one running from this thing between us, trying to deny what she felt.
See, quiet, peaceful morning.
Then I saw my sister’s name light up the screen of my phone, and I just knew that was about to change. If Emily was calling before nine a.m. it wasn’t just to chat.
“Good morning, Em.” It came out a bit questioning.
“I’ll say it is,” she said, sounding almost giddy. “Have you been online yet?”
Apprehension made me stall before answering her. “No. Why?”
She couldn’t contain herself and her laughter bubbled over the line making me even more nervous.
“What’s going on Em?”
“I can’t say it. You have to see for yourself. Get on the internet right now.”
Reluctantly I did as she told me, switching her to speaker so I could open up the internet browser on my phone. “Okay, I’m online.”
“Well, do you see it?”
“I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking for, Em.”
“Look harder, I know you have one of those news outlets as your homepage. Find the trending section, or the media highlights.”
Shoving down my annoyance, I did as she demanded, and within seconds I saw it.
“What the hell?” I muttered to no one in particular.
“I know, right!” Emily squealed back. “You’re trending big bro!”
I started clicking links and opening articles and posts. This was so much bigger than when Riley and I first went public weeks ago.
“This is . . .”
“Awesome!” Emily supplied.
“I was going to say unexpected.”
“Dude, Team James is blowing up. We’re all getting t-shirts made.”
“Who’s ‘we all?’”
“Everyone, duh!”
“Shit, I better call Spencer.”
“You might not want to. Cam said they’re taking bets.”
I cursed under my breath.
“He said the odds are in your favor, at least.”
“That doesn’t help, Em.”
“Could be worse. I could have let Mom be the one to call you.”
“Oh hell, I’m turning off my phone as soon as we hang up, which is now.”
“Oh, come on, this isn’t such a bad thing,” she rushed out before I ended it. Her chuckle was the last thing I heard.
I continued to thumb through my phone, shaking my head and muttering expletives the deeper I delved into the internet gossip. I don’t know if it was the people speculating about me and my life, or the ones that were on Hunter’s side that annoyed me more. It was ridiculous the things people were saying, like they had a clue about any of this.
Roryb1990: I know who I’d choose. Give me the real man over the Hollywood one every day. #TeamJames all the way.
Well, maybe Roryb1990 knew what she was talking about.
And then a slow grin spread over my lips. It was possible I’d overreacted. This might not be such a terrible thing, the tables turning and all. If I had to win the girl, it couldn’t hurt to have half—actually more than half it seemed—the internet on my side. I just had to ignore that I looked like an ass and was definitely the joke of the office, that is if I wasn’t fired for this shit.
If anyone was to blame for this though, it was Spencer for accepting the job to begin with. It actually killed me that if this shit didn’t blow up in my face any worse, I might have to thank him. But first, I had to convince Riley she’d made a mistake, and get her to ditch the pretty boy.
It wasn’t long before I finally heard her stirring upstairs. Knowing it wouldn’t be long before she made an appearance in the kitchen, I quickly put the teapot on the stove, grabbed a skillet and started pulling ingredients for omelets out of the fridge. At the last second, when I heard her on the stairs, I peeled my shirt off and tossed it aside.
My turn to fight dirty.
She skulked in a second later and stopped short. I watched her eyes roam over my bare torso and bit back the satisfied grin trying to creep over my face and focused on whisking the eggs.
“Morning, Riley.”
I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know she was glaring at me, but I did anyway. She diverted her scowl and muttered something about a shirt under her breath.
“Sleep well?”
She slumped onto one of the stools. “Why are you so chipper this morning?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Oh my gosh,” she gasped. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”
“Seen what?” I spared her another quick look. Her eyes were narrowed accusingly.
“Don’t play dumb with me, you’ve been on the internet.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged and went back to cooking.
Her response was a long drawn out groan. “You’re loving it, aren’t you?”
I flipped the omelets and flashed her a grin. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“Don’t you usually get my schedule from Jayne?”
“I asked you, not Jayne.”
She huffed out something about dinner and a party tonight, that I wasn’t really listening to because I was wondering if I’d walked around all the time with the same scowl that she was currently wearing. It was cute and not at all discouraging, because if she was scowling for the same reason I had, it meant I got to her, that she wasn’t immune to me even though she was trying to be.
I slid her breakfast plate across the counter to her and she stared at the plate.
“You going to eat?”
“You going to put a shirt on?” she retorted.
I leaned over the counter. “I’m sorry, does my being shirtless make you uncomfortable?”
Her silence and pinched expression were priceless. I finally understood why she had always looked so smug, prancing through the house every time she rattled me. This was kind of fun. I pushed up from the counter and dished my own plate up before returning to the spot across from her.
She shoveled food into her mouth and glared.
I smirked.
She shoveled faster and cleared out of the kitchen the second the last bite of eggs passed her lips.
A couple hours later I had her on the mats in the fitness room. We circled each other slowly. Her chest in the tiny sports bra was rising and falling rapidly. Seemed she wasn’t entirely done torturing me. We’d been at this thirty minutes. Striking, dodging, blocking, grappling. She was on edge, sloppy, and uncoordinated. I could sense her frustration growing.
“Come on sweetheart. Hit me like you mean it,” I taunted.
She growled before lunging at me. I caught her wrist, spun her around, and locked my arms around her, pulling her in tight. Mistake. She felt too good against me. Smelled too good too as I inhaled her citrusy shampoo. “You can do better than that,” I breathed in her ear. She squirmed and struggled a bit before I released her, and she stumbled forward.
“I hate you,” she rasped through heavy breaths, turning to face me again.
I laughed. “You can try to all you want, but we both know you don’t hate me.”
“Agggh,” she half groaned, half growled. “You’re so annoying and cocky and arrogant and stubborn.”
I cocked a brow. “Me the stubborn one?”
She huffed, and we went back to sparring, or more accurately, she went back to trying to take my head off, and I continued catching her and putting my hands on her every chance I got. Subtle touches; a splayed hand over her stomach, a squeeze of her hip, a caress of her waist, a graze along her clavicle. Okay, maybe they weren’t that subtle, but I got the reaction I wanted. Her breath hitched every time, and more than once her head started to roll back against my chest before she realized she was relaxing into my hold and jerked away.
I just wanted to remind her what it felt like when I touched her. She could pretend to be indifferent all she wanted, but her body wasn’t fooling anyone. She felt it the way I felt it. She was under my skin, in my veins, and I was pretty sure it was the same for her.
“How long you going to keep fighting this?” I asked when I had her on the mat on her back, after she ran her hand up my abdomen and chest under the guise of trying to push me off. Her jaw clenched, and she successfully rolled me off of her and got to her feet.
“Actually,” she said, stepping off the mat while I looked up at her from my back, “I’m done fighting right now. I need to get ready for dinner. With Hunter.” She punctuated that with a look that said, ha, take that.
It stung a little bit, I admit, but it was just her striking back, so I forced a laugh I didn’t feel and shoved myself up, calling after her, “I can’t wait. It’s going to be a lovely date. A romantic evening, just the three of us.”
I heard her cry of frustration from the hallway before she shouted, “It’s not even a date. And you’re getting your own table.”
I collapsed to the mat with a chuckle. Another point for me.
Twenty-Two
Riley
“You sure know how to make a guy feel good.”
“Huh?” I yanked my gaze to Hunter who stood next to me.
He shook his head. “Nothing, I’ve only been talking to you for the last five minutes while you’ve been glaring across the room.”
I bristled. “I wasn’t glaring.”
“If you were one of the X-Men, James and the girl in the blue dress would both be ashes on the carpet.”
“I wasn’t glaring.” Just watching. Intently. The way James had watched me all throughout dinner, from his place across the restaurant at the bar. His piercing eyes had moved from me very few times. It had made my skin hum and buzz, and my brain short out at the most inconvenient times. Like when Hunter was trying to talk to me. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time tonight I’d accidentally tuned him out because I was distracted.
And then we arrived at the party and James continued to shadow us, teasing me and taunting me with those eyes, making it impossible to ignore him, stealing my attention away from everyone else. Until the unknown girl in the blue dress approached him.
“Who is she?” She’d been chatting James up for the last ten minutes, smiling, fawning, no doubt flirting and trying to woo. Why wasn’t he telling her to take a hike? His job wasn’t to flirt. And why would he stare at me all night, with heat and unspoken promises in his eyes, taking possession of my thoughts, weakening my resolve and my knees, only to be entranced by some bleach blonde ho-bag in a too flashy dress.
“I don’t recognize her.”
“She had to have come with somebody, it’s not like this is an open invite party.” It was an exclusive, pre-release, post critic screening party for Red Red Rose. The reviews were great and we were celebrating. I knew almost everyone here, but I did not know blondie in the blue dress. Putting her hand on James’ arm. Batting those stupid false lashes at him.
“Riley.”
Pushing out her obviously purchased bosom—okay, it wasn’t obvious, but I still would have bet money a doctor and not God had endowed her with that chest.
“Riley.”
Raking her eyes up and down him in that perfectly fitted charcoal grey suit that made him look like James Bond. Better than James Bond even. Ugh, he knew what it did to me when he wore a suit.
“Riley!”<
br />
“Huh?” I muttered distractedly, only partially registering Hunter’s attempt to gain my attention once again. I wondered what the blonde could possibly be saying to James that held his interest. She didn’t look like the type that ensnared men with her wits—mostly because I doubted she had any—but rather relied upon her big breasts and big eyes and big lips.
Now I was just being mean, and I wasn’t a mean person, but James should have been able to resist. He shouldn’t be so swayed by a tight body and pretty face.
Unless it was mine!
I don’t even know where that thought came from.
“Riley.” This time Hunter captured my chin and physically dragged my gaze to his.
“Sorry,” I cringed apologetically.
He sighed, “It’s fine. Not like I didn’t know what I was getting into.”
I chose to ignore that comment and grabbed his forearm. “Let’s get a drink.”
“Another?” he asked as he let me drag him through the room. “The bottle of wine at dinner wasn’t enough?”
“It was half a bottle,” I corrected.
“You’re one edge, and it doesn’t take a keen observer to figure out why.”
We reached the bar where I helped myself to two flutes of champagne and spun around, offering one to Hunter. “Sorry, were you saying something?” I asked through a tight-lipped smile.
“Not at all.” He took the flute and set it right back on the bar before grabbing my hand and tugging me in the opposite direction, nearly causing me to spill mine.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Hell if I know anymore, but what I’m not going to do is watch you pine after Captain America. You’re Riley Fucking James. You don’t pine for anyone. Unless it’s me.” He winked, and I stopped resisting and allowed him to steer me away from James and blondie, who was still gabbing away at him. My eyes met James’ for just a breath of a moment, before I tore mine away.
I wanted to tell Hunter that while yes, I was Riley fucking James, I was also still a regular girl with regular girl insecurities, and regular girl jealousies, and regular girl neurotic tendencies. I want the guy, I don’t want the guy, but I don’t want him to want anyone else.
A Taste of Pink (Shades Book 4) Page 23