by Lexi Ryan
“Don’t shut me out. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“Why? Because you’re going to comfort me? Stand by my side and hold my hand?”
“I would.” He sounds so sincere, but his eyes dart to the door. I guess he wants to make sure no one is listening to what he has to say. He’s an idiot if he thinks there’s no one on the other side of that glass watching everything that happens in here. I should care about that. I should bring it to his attention. But I stay silent.
“If only everything weren’t so complicated right now,” he says. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.”
Don’t believe him, I lecture my gullible heart. But it’s hard to hear lies for what they are when you want them to be truth.
He glances to the empty doorway again before settling his gaze on me. “I miss you more than you could possibly understand.”
I flinch. “Stop fucking with my heart.”
“This is because of your police officer, isn’t it? Because of the story you want everyone to believe?”
“What?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I saw the pictures.”
Shit. I’ve been so caught up in the break-in and Courtney’s disappearance that I completely forgot I have another mess waiting for me. In the light of the last twenty-four hours, losing the part as Trista seems so trivial.
Tom’s studying me. “The world might believe those pictures, but you forget that I know you better than that.”
“Some days, I don’t think you know me at all.” I feel like I physically shrink when I say it. It’s one of those truths I never dared utter during our marriage. It hurt too much to say it out loud.
“I know you, Elle. And I know you wouldn’t have let me kiss you if there’d been anyone else in your life.”
He’s right about that, at least. “That kiss was a mistake.”
Tom ignores me and continues. “And if things are so serious between you two, where is he now? No man who is serious about you would make you sit here alone. He’s not the one that’s here. I am. So either he’s a piece of shit and doesn’t know your worth when you’re so obviously way out of his league, or . . .”
I fold my arms. “Or what?”
“Or the pictures were staged.” He holds up a hand before I can reply. “I don’t blame you for playing the game. I never meant to cost you the role. But don’t pretend he means something to you when we both know—”
Tom jumps out of his seat as Bella walks in the door.
She’s a beautiful mess, her makeup smudged lightly around her eyes, her long blond hair tied into a knot at the base of her neck. She’s equal parts worried friend and beauty queen.
Tom rushes forward and wraps her in his arms, then presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.” But there he is. By her side, comforting her. Again. Always.
“They found her.” Bella’s voice shakes. “She’s okay.”
Tom strokes her back. “I know. The officer just told us.”
Bella catches sight of me over Tom’s shoulder and blanches. “Janelle,” she says, stepping from Tom’s embrace. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”
That makes two of us. But every time I try to leave, they have another set of questions for me and another reason I need to stay. I haven’t pressed the issue because I’m scared enough to not want to leave the safety of this room. “I’m sure I’ll be leaving soon, but I want to see Courtney first.”
“Surely you’re not staying at your condo,” Tom says. “Where will you go?”
That’s a good question. My stomach falls. I could stay at my brother’s empty house outside of town. He hasn’t lived there since he moved in with Hanna, but the idea of being in that big place alone terrifies me. As for local friends, I don’t talk to any of them enough anymore to ask any of them to let me stay.
“Who will you stay with?” Bella asks.
I’ll have to find a hotel somewhere. Alone. My skin crawls. “I’ll—”
“She’ll stay with me.”
I jerk my head around at the sound of the deep, familiar voice. Cade Watts strolls into the room. Hopping out of my chair, I open my mouth to say something—though I have no idea what—but before I can, he steps closer.
He slides a hand behind my neck and lowers his mouth to mine. “Hey, baby.” Then he kisses me right there in front of my ex-husband and his trollop of a wife.
* * *
Cade
Janelle has the sweetest mouth, and I swear she must have magical powers, because no one smells this good after a night sitting in a police station.
I mean to kiss her hard and fast and then get her the hell out of here, but once our lips touch, my plans change. I want more, and I take it.
When I slant my mouth over hers, her hesitation lasts only a fraction of a second before she melts into me. Her hands slip around my neck, and she presses her body against mine, surrendering to me right there in front of her fucker of an ex.
Tom clears his throat, and I break the kiss and lean my forehead against hers. She keeps her eyes closed. I’m not sure if she’s trying to steady her breathing or gather her thoughts or both. She looks so fragile—feels so fragile in my arms—and after what I just saw from the other side of the glass, it would be easy to tell myself that she’s different than Cara. Different than everyone in this city.
“I got here as quickly as I could,” I say.
I flew in on a redeye and spent the entire cab ride to the station on my cell making arrangements. When I arrived, I came in through the back and had Gormong debrief me first thing. I needed details before Janelle could object to me getting involved. Not that I expect her to argue. In fact, having some psycho obsessed with her right now works nicely with her plans. Looks like she found the perfect way to get me on board with lying about our relationship to the world.
Tom clears his throat again, trying to remind me he’s there. As if I could fucking forget. I came to LA with a lot of doubts—about this case, about Janelle, and about my decision to jump in the middle of this mess. But if I had any doubts that Tom Comer was a selfish, manipulative son-of-a-bitch, the last ten minutes obliterated them.
“Stop fucking with my heart.”
I stood on the other side of the one-way glass and listened as he told her he wished he could hold her. I listened to his theories about the pictures from the costume party. And then I stood there and watched as Tom shifted all of his attention from Janelle to his new wife.
But I saw what Tom didn’t. I saw what seeing them together did to her, the way she straightened her spine and lifted her chin even as the light in her eyes retreated. I recognized her determination to keep a strong façade as everything beneath her crumbled.
She pulls back a few inches, opens her eyes, and looks up at me, confusion all over her face. I stroke my thumb along her jaw and smile for my audience. “You look tired. Let me get you to bed.”
She cuts her eyes to Tom then back to me. “I want to wait and talk to Courtney.”
I shake my head. “It’s going to be a while. Come on. Let’s get a shower and a nap.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “We’ll come back later to talk to your friend.”
Confusion still swims in her eyes, but she nods and takes my hand. “I should find Officer Gormong and make sure it’s okay that I go.”
“It’s already taken care of.” I nod to Tom and his wife and lead Janelle out of the room.
“Nice to, uh, meet you,” Tom’s wife says to my back, and I lift a hand in acknowledgment, not bothering to turn around.
Janelle is silent as we leave the station. Sunrise has tinted the horizon in amber, and the clatter of the city is muted in the early hour. I direct Janelle to the black Lincoln SUV waiting for us in front.
“The Beverly Wilshire,” I tell the driver after we climb in. That earns me a raised brow from Janelle, but she says nothing, only buckles in and stares out her window.
“Gormong called me last night. I used to work at that precinct,” I say, as if that really explains my one-eighty from yesterday morning. “We’ll talk later.”
She skims her lips with two fingers, then stops herself. Her gaze shifts to the driver then back to me. “Okay. Later.”
We ride in silence, and I try to focus on our next steps. I only have plans through tonight, and I need to figure out the best way to keep her safe after that. But no matter how hard I try to concentrate, I can’t stop picturing her face when Tom pulled Bella into his arms, can’t stop hearing her words to him before Bella arrived. “Stop fucking with my heart.”
The broken parts of me recognize the broken parts of her, and it’s so tempting to imagine our ragged edges fitting together, making us each whole where we haven’t been for years.
That’s not why I’m here. I didn’t come to fix her broken heart or make her believe in love again. Fuck that. Maybe I have a weakness for her eyes, for the way she tastes. Maybe I’m haunted by the way she moaned when my mouth was between her legs. But I’ve learned from my mistakes. I don’t trust her. I’m only here because the only way I know she’s safe is if I’m holding her close. Despite her flaws, her safety is more important than my pride. I won’t be able to live with myself if she gets hurt and I could have prevented it. Maybe keeping this woman safe will allow me to forgive myself for the one I failed.
When we get to the hotel, I instruct the driver to drop us at the service entrance at the back. I’ve arranged for a bellman to meet us here. Though I don’t care if they take pictures of us together at this point, I don’t need the press leaking her location. I’ll need to set up a complete security detail before I’ll risk this creep knowing her whereabouts. Even then, I’d rather keep it secret.
“Mr. Watts, I’ll lead you to your room,” the bellman says as we file in the back. He takes us up a service elevator and down a back hallway to our room. “There should be plenty of privacy here,” he says as he opens the door for us and hands me a pair of key cards. “Please let us know if we can be of service.”
I slip him a couple of fifties. He leaves as Janelle spins a slow circle to take in the room. She looks a little awestruck, which would be understandable for most people, but Janelle Crane comes from Hollywood royalty. She is Hollywood royalty. The Beverly Wilshire is her Holiday Inn.
I drop my bag in the closet and tug my shirt over my head. I need a shower and a few hours of sleep.
“We’re sharing a room?” she asks, her eyes on my bare chest.
I take a deep breath and do my best to remind my body that I’m not here for fun, that this relationship is nothing but a ruse. But there’s nothing fake about the way she looks at me. The chemistry between us is real. “That’s the plan,” I say, stepping forward. I can’t help myself. When she’s in the room, I need to be closer.
“Were you going to let me in on this plan at any point?”
I grunt. “Yeah, that must suck, having someone plan something that involves you and never let you in on it.”
She folds her arms and her face hardens. “I don’t have any patience for your tender ego right now. I’ve had a fucking shitty day. You need to start talking or I’m walking out that door. I don’t care what kind of favors you called in to make sure no one saw us together.”
“There’s the spoiled princess,” I mutter.
“What did you just call me?”
“I’m just pointing out that you’re awfully demanding for a woman who owes me a little gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” She shakes her head, obviously trying to make sense of my motivations.
I sympathize. I can’t even process how I quickly I picked up and flew across the country for a woman I barely know—a woman who I wanted nothing to do with twenty-four hours ago. Any analysis makes me seriously question my own judgment, so I’ve chosen not to think about it at all.
“What do you want me to thank you for, exactly?” she asks. “For kissing me?”
“Sure.” I take another step closer, and she has to crane her neck to look up at me. “Start there.” My gaze drops to her lips. Goddamn, but I want to touch her again. And not for an audience this time. Just for me. For us.
“You want me to thank you,” she says slowly, emphasizing each word, “for. Kissing. Me?”
My lips twitch. “Isn’t it proper to thank a person for giving you something you enjoy, princess?”
“Fuck you.”
I shrug. “That wasn’t in my plans, but it could be arranged.”
Her nostrils flare, and she presses a hand to my chest. If she intended to push me away, something stops her. Instead, she just rests it there as her gaze dips to my mouth and her lips part. “You’re an asshole.”
“Sorry, was that not in the script? Next time, tell me how your fake boyfriend is supposed to act. I’ll try to do better.” I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m being a dick, all because I don’t trust myself around her.
“You have one hell of a chip on your shoulder,” she says, and when I open my eyes, she’s leaning closer. “Can’t say that I blame you for that.”
I could kiss her now. I could lead her to the bed and put my hand between her legs, seduce her with soft touches until we both forget what we’re here hiding from. Maybe she’d let me fuck her, and I’d find out if her moan is as deep and throaty when I’m inside her as it is when my mouth is between her legs. The sex would be hard—fast and greedy and so fucking good.
Maybe it’d be better to get it out of our systems. Maybe it’s inevitable.
I’m calculating the best way to get her to the bed when she lifts her chin and whispers, “Thank you. Thank you for kissing me like that in front of Tom.” The words are full of sincerity and vulnerability. They’re a sucker punch to the gut.
“You’re welcome.” I draw in a deep breath, trying to remember all the reasons I shouldn’t touch her. There were reasons. I’m almost sure of it. “I should get in the shower.”
She steps back and lifts her shirt a few inches. The movement is hardly brazen, but it exposes her navel and the jewel pierced into it. The jewel I sucked into my mouth only two days ago. Christ.
“You want company?” she asks.
My gut knots and my cock is rock hard in an instant. Fuck yes, I want company, and not just any company. I very specifically want the company of the woman offering it. I want her naked and wet against the marble tile, squeezing me tight as I make her come under the spray. And while I do it, I want her eyes to look like they do right now. Vulnerable. Open. Trusting.
I swallow hard and nod to the bed. “You need some sleep. You should nap. We’ll talk later.” I turn and close the door before I can change my mind.
If I’m going to protect her, I have to think of her as the Hollywood princess who’s cold and manipulative to her core. Because a vulnerable Janelle melts the ice I’ve carefully erected around my heart.
I strip the rest of my clothes and turn the shower as cold as it will go.
Chapter 6
Janelle
When the bathroom door clicks closed behind Cade, I mime hari-kari then collapse onto the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Well, fuck.
I don’t even know how I feel. There are way too many emotions swimming through my head for me to keep up. I’m turned on, pissed off, scared, confused, and exhausted. Okay, so exhaustion isn’t technically an emotion, but when mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion peak together like this, fatigue becomes a force all of its own.
How can I feel so tired and so alive all at once?
Cade’s eyes were on my lips, his mouth so close to mine. I was sure he was going to kiss me again. More than kiss me. I thought he might devour me. And what I wouldn’t give to be devoured right now. To surrender myself to his touch,
his mouth, his scent, until the terrifying previous day was washed away by the pleasure he’s proven his hands can bring. One second, I thought I’d get my wish, and the next he was responding to my offer to join him in the shower by telling me to take a nap.
I squeeze my eyes shut and knock my head against the mattress in frustration. Why does he have to be so sexy? Why does he have to be so bitter and broody? Why did Cara have to break his heart and make him hate all actresses?
I shoot up to sit on the edge of the mattress and glare at the bathroom door. “And why is he even here?” I mumble.
The sound of water hitting tile softens, and I imagine him stepping under the spray, water sliding over all that hard muscle and bare skin.
I am so pathetic that if there were a village of pathetic people, they would honor me as their queen. I just invited myself to shower with a guy who has made it very clear that he detests everything I stand for. I just offered myself to a guy who is so fucking old school that he swooped into town unannounced, kissed me in front of my ex, and brought me to this hotel without any explanation. Seriously, to act any more like a caveman, he’d have to start dragging me around by my hair.
Not that I wasn’t grateful for his impeccable timing at the station, but the asshole didn’t even offer me the first shower.
I shudder. I’ve been in these clothes for a flight across the country and a night in the police station. I don’t think I can stand them touching me for another minute, unless it’s to throw them into a fire. But since Mr. Caveman didn’t think about stopping to get me clothes, it’s not like I have anything to change into.
I open the closet and find one of those big, fluffy robes. Sold. I strip out of my dirty clothes and slide into it. My skin practically sings at the touch of the clean, soft fabric. After my shower, I’ll call the front desk and ask them to do a little shopping for me.
My phone rings, and I fish it out of my purse. It’s my agent.
“This day keeps getting better,” I mutter, before swiping the screen to accept the call. “Merriellen!” I chirp in greeting.