Second Act
Page 7
“It’s not the first time I’ve slept on a dog bed, and it won’t be the last.” She shrugged out of his grasp. “If you could just take me home, that would be great.”
“I’ve ordered chocolate croissants from room service. There’s a bathtub the size of a lap pool. You can watch the boats go by on the Hudson River while you bathe.” He decided not to mention the enormous bed, even though he genuinely had no intention of joining her in it. He shifted forward so that she would look at him as he softened his voice. “Jess, you take care of all those animals but not of yourself.”
She always had. The generosity of her caring was one of the things he had loved about her. However, it also took its toll on her.
“Chocolate croissants?” she repeated, and he knew he had her. “It’s not fair to play on my vulnerabilities.”
“You know better than to expect me to play fair.” He smiled. “So you’re going to let me treat you?”
“No strings attached.” She gave him a direct look with her clear, gray eyes.
He spread his arms wide in a gesture of innocence. “Just one old friend helping out another.”
“We’ve gone past being friends,” she said.
She was right, in a way. The attraction between them had been too strong to stop at mere friendship. They’d gone from working together to being lovers. Friendship had blossomed later. “No reason we can’t be now.”
“Huh” was her cryptic response. She stood at the bottom of the steps for a moment. “I guess I’ll leave my medical bag here, in case I have to come back, but I need to get my purse from Emily’s office.”
“I’ll get it for you so you don’t have to climb any more stairs.” He wanted to put his arm around her waist to help her up these steps, but they were too narrow for two people to walk abreast, so he contented himself with walking close behind her.
“No staring at my butt,” she said.
He grinned at her show of spirit. “It’s covered by a giant sweatshirt, so there’s not much to see.”
She harrumphed.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Emily was waiting with a large purse in her hand, which he guessed was Jess’s.
“Khonsu is out of the woods,” Jessica said to the director. “Shaq’s doing fine, too.”
“Diego told me. That’s wonderful news,” Emily said. “Thank you so much for caring for them through the night. We’re so lucky to have you.”
“It’s just my job,” Jess said. She swayed a little, so Hugh stepped closer and slipped his arm around her.
“I appreciate your telling me where to find our dedicated doctor,” he said. “Now it’s time to make our exit.”
Emily held out the bag with a wide smile. “I had a feeling you might want this.”
Jess reached for the bag, but Hugh snagged it first, slinging it over his shoulder. Emily’s smile turned approving. “I like a man who can handle a purse,” she said.
Hugh winked and steered Jess out the front door. Anticipation flickered through him as they walked down the steps to the limo. Being with Jess reminded him of a time when everything seemed possible, even love.
Jessica slid onto the leather seat of the limo, making a quick scan of the opulent wood paneling, the thick gray carpeting, and the heavily tinted windows. She knew she was loopy from sleep deprivation, so she went back to debating whether she should really go to a hotel with Hugh. The thought of eating food someone else fixed for her and taking a long, luxurious bath had tempted her beyond resisting. But there was more to it than that. There was Hugh himself.
When she’d awakened to find herself cradled against the hard, warm wall of his chest, held by the tensile strength of his arms, it had felt . . . wonderful. He had smelled good, too, something she appreciated after a night with sick dogs. She had turned her head into the place where the soft cashmere of his black sweater stopped at his throat to inhale the combination of sandalwood and clean man.
She groaned as she wondered what odors she was exuding.
Just then the car door opened, and Hugh settled onto the seat beside her. As the limousine glided away from the curb, he smiled. “I promise you won’t regret coming with me.”
The slightly crooked slant of his lips was so familiar and so tempting. She shook her head. “I’m confused. It’s only ten o’clock in the morning. Aren’t you supposed to be shooting blanks at bad guys?”
“We had some permit problems, so my scenes got canceled for today.” There was a funny note in his voice that she couldn’t quite pin down. “I decided it was the perfect opportunity to spend more time with you.”
She ignored the flutter of gratification that gave her. “How did you even find me?”
He barked out a short laugh. “It wasn’t easy until I got hold of Aidan.”
She sucked in a breath when he took her hand and twined his fingers with hers, his touch on the sensitive Vs between her fingers setting off a tingling awareness. He looked down at their hands. “Thank you for spending your day off with me.”
His words pinged against her heart. How could this man at the pinnacle of his world feel gratitude toward her for agreeing to spend a few extra hours with him? Yet she could tell he meant it. “I may spend most of it sleeping, so don’t be too grateful yet,” she said.
“Well, I would recommend a bath first,” he said, his turquoise eyes lit with amusement.
That stung, even though she knew it was true. “I was taking care of two sick dogs. What do you expect me to smell like?”
The amusement left his face. “I know all about it. Emily is a staunch admirer of yours. She says you’ve saved more than one of their rescue dogs.”
“That’s what veterinarians do.” But she couldn’t help the flicker of pleasure it gave her that Hugh had repeated Emily’s compliment.
“Not all of them. You’ve always been extraordinary in your commitment to your patients.” She wasn’t sure if he considered that a good thing or a bad thing, since it had caused much of the friction in their past, but then he continued. “That passion is what makes you a great vet.”
His grip tightened, and the press of his palm against her skin sent licks of heat up her arm. She slipped her hand out of his grasp and spread it open on her thigh. She didn’t want Hugh to affect her that way.
“I appreciate the endorsement.” When she glanced up at him, his smile was gone and he had folded his arms across his chest. Did it bother him that she had withdrawn her hand? “Do you have any pets now?”
The tension eased in his body language as he stretched out his long, black-denim–wrapped legs and crossed them at the ankles. “My lifestyle isn’t conducive to keeping animals, except maybe goldfish. Too many lengthy absences in foreign countries.”
“You were never much of a dog person, anyway.”
“Ironic, given how we met, isn’t it?” The shadow of hurt had left his eyes. “I didn’t encounter any dogs at your house when I stopped by to persuade Aidan to tell me where you were. I assumed you’d have several, probably three-legged, blind, and missing an ear.”
Jessica laughed at his jibe about veterinarians’ propensity for adopting animals whom no one else would. “Same problem as yours. Too many hours away from home. Although we have an office cat who tolerates very few people other than me.”
“Because you’re an animal whisperer. That hasn’t changed,” he said.
“I’m the same as always. You’re the one who’s become so different. A superstar. Famous the world over. Meeting kings and queens. You even have my office manager, Carla, awestruck, and she’s almost impossible to impress.”
“You of all people should know that’s just the outward trappings. You told me often enough.” Something twisted in her chest at the melancholy in his voice.
“Aren’t you happy? You’ve succeeded beyond anything we dreamed of.”
She saw the old, familiar darkness in his eyes as he said, “I never thought success would make me happy.”
No, he’d thought it would prove that he was
n’t worthless, the way he’d so often felt as a child. “But you should be. The entire world has acknowledged that you’re brilliant and talented.”
The angles of his face took on a stark edge. “I’m no longer much interested in the world’s opinion.”
“Because you’ve won, so you don’t need it anymore.” But she wasn’t sure that was true. Hugh had been abandoned by his parents when he was too young to remember them. It sometimes seemed like nothing could ever fill the void left by that ultimate rejection. Not even her love.
“You should go to sleep until we get to the hotel.” He shifted to the seat facing backward, signaling an end to that topic. “Stretch out and make yourself comfortable.”
Opening one of the limo’s compartments, he pulled out a pillow and a blanket. She couldn’t help admiring the way his muscles flexed under the fabric of his sweater or how his inky hair curved against his temples. He pinned her with his striking eyes. “Lie down. I’ll make sure someone takes good care of your patients while you’re sleeping.”
His words somehow sent exhaustion spiraling through her, so she slid down on her elbow and curled her legs onto the seat. He leaned forward to position the pillow under her head. His face was close enough so she could see lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there when they were engaged. But those marks of maturity only made him more magnetic. When he brushed a strand of her hair off her cheek, just that tiny contact made her shiver with delicious sensation. She slammed her eyes shut to ward off any further reactions.
But he wasn’t finished. She felt the blanket drift down over her before he pulled it up around her shoulders to tuck it in with little strokes of his hands. Heat rolled through her body.
Hugh had had that effect on her from the first time he’d touched her under the dog tent. All he’d done was lift her ponytail off the back of her sticky, sweaty neck and blow a breath against her skin, but the graze of his fingers had vibrated all the way down between her legs. She had been glad he was behind her and couldn’t see her eyes close or hear her stifled gasp. In fact, the one thing all their problems had never lessened was Hugh’s sexual pull on her.
But then, millions of women felt the same way about him.
Chapter 7
Jessica had been sure she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with the fraught tension of Hugh’s presence in the enclosed space of the limo, but once again she awoke to the sound of his voice. “We’re here.”
She bolted upright, knocking the pillow to the floor. “You’re not carrying me into a hotel.”
He raised both hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said as the passenger door swung open.
She scrambled out of the car to find they were parked in a narrow alley, the car drawn up in front of an undistinguished metal utility door. The driver trotted over to knock, and it opened to reveal a woman in a dark suit. “Welcome, Mr. Baker, madam.” The woman smiled as she nodded to Jessica.
“This is the antipaparazzi entrance,” Hugh said, putting his hand on the small of her back and moving her toward the door. The warm imprint of his palm in that particular spot brought back their times on the red carpet when his career had begun to take off . . . and she had begun to think she was the wrong woman for him.
She shook her head to banish the memories.
“Please follow me,” the woman said, leading them along a corridor illuminated by sleek, modern crystal sconces. She stopped in front of an elevator door, where she pressed a card against a square black pad before pushing the call button. “Your key, Mr. Baker,” she said, turning to offer the card to Hugh. “If you need anything, touch the concierge button on any of the phones in your suite. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
The elevator door slid open, and Hugh ushered Jessica into the steel-and-wood-paneled car. “Where are we?” she asked, once again feeling the unsettling quiver of attraction caused by Hugh’s presence in a small space. It was counterbalanced by the equally unsettling sense of his wealth and prominence, as evidenced by the private entrance, the personal concierge, and the understated elegance of the hotel that reeked of money.
“The Wooster 44 in Soho.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“That’s why I like it. Most people haven’t.”
Because it was so exclusive only movie stars and their ilk frequented it.
The elevator stopped, and the door slid open to reveal a huge room with windows for two of its walls, allowing the late-morning light to wash through the space. The steel canyons of Manhattan stretched away in one direction while the other side displayed the parade of boats and ships plying the Hudson River. “Wow!” she said, stepping out onto the patterned stone floor.
A faint aroma of bacon wafted through the air, making her stomach grumble, so she pushed aside her sense of not belonging in this place. “I smell more than chocolate croissants.”
“You need some protein, too,” he said. “Would you rather eat or bathe first?”
“Bathe! Where’s the bathroom?” She was desperate to wash off the stink and dirt of her night’s labors.
He pointed to a curving staircase off to the side. “Next floor.” He scanned her face with a frown. “You should leave the door unlocked. I’m afraid you’ll fall asleep and drown.”
“I caught up on my sleep in the limo.” She didn’t want to even think about having him near a tub. She’d seen the famous bath scene in Best Laid Plans. It had made cinematic history for being the hottest love scene that didn’t involve sex.
His frown remained. “At least answer if I call out to you. For my peace of mind.”
His worry seemed genuine, and she felt a guilty delight. “The tabloids would have a field day with that story, wouldn’t they? ‘Actor’s Ex-Fiancée Drowns in Penthouse Suite Tub: Did she ignore the warning and take the hair dryer in with her’?”
Amusement chased away Hugh’s frown, but he shook his head. “It would be a lot more lurid than that.”
“Then I’ll make sure not to die there.” She headed up the stairs, gliding her palm along the gleaming polish of the banister’s highly grained wood. Starbursts of crystal and chrome lit the stairwell.
Oddly enough, even in this opulent setting, Hugh seemed more like the man she’d loved eight years before. His desire to feed her a proper meal, his concern that she would fall asleep and drown all brought back the early days of their time together. He’d massage her feet when she got home from work. He’d go grocery shopping and pick up her favorite brand of cookies without her asking for them. He’d inquire after the progress of the patients she was particularly concerned with, even remembering their names.
Hugh had noticed everything about her in a way no one else had. She’d been alone and independent for so long—working like a dog to get into and then graduate from vet school, moving far away from Iowa to work—that it felt delicious to be cared for so tenderly. Her heart had melted and opened to him, absorbing his attention like a thirsty sponge. He had made her feel worthy of being loved by someone like him.
But all that had faded away when he’d become Julian Best. So which person was Hugh now?
She had no answer, so she kept walking up the stairs.
On the next level, the floor was carpeted in a velvety taupe that her sneakers sank into. She padded down the hallway to find a huge, double-height bedroom bathed in winter sunlight. Sliding doors opened onto a terrace dotted with large pots and chaise longues that would have been inviting if the temperature had been higher. But it was the king-size bed that made her stop . . . because Hugh’s smoky voice and slanting smile and honed body made her think thoughts she shouldn’t. She told herself that the bed looked seductive only because she wanted to fall onto it and sleep, not because she could picture Hugh laying her back on it and coming down on top of her.
As liquid fire ran through her veins, she averted her eyes from the expanse of inviting cream linens. Giving the bed a wide berth, she discovered a bathroom that made her gasp.
An enormous oval tub was set in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the river. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being naked in front of all that glass. Then she saw an elegantly lettered sign set on the edge of the tub that explained the glass was mirrored on the outside so no one could see in. She was not the only person with exposure issues.
Turning on the faucets full force, she inspected the toiletries in their elongated bottles lined up on the tub’s ledge. She picked the bath salts marked “relaxation” and tipped them into the steaming water, releasing a cloud of geranium-and-bergamot fragrance. Stripping out of her smelly scrubs, she eased down into the embrace of the swirling water with a happy “ahh.”
When was the last time she’d taken a long soak in a tub instead of a quick, practical shower? It had to have been several years.
She lathered up her hair with a rosemary-and-mint-scented shampoo, which reminded her of the times Hugh would join her in the bathtub at their apartment, sliding down behind her in the soapy water, his long, muscular legs framing hers on either side. He’d start out with his clever fingers working suds into her hair, but she’d feel his erection against her backside and things would progress from there, leaving the bathroom floor puddled and Jessica nearly boneless with pleasure.
As though she’d conjured him up with the power of her thoughts, a knock sounded on the door. “Are you still breathing?” Hugh’s perfectly modulated voice carried through the heavy wood. “I have a glass of champagne for you.”
She jumped, creating a small wave that sloshed against the bathtub’s sides. “You can’t come in. I’m in the tub.”
His velvet chuckle seemed to ripple through the water and over her skin. “How about if I swear not to look? I’ll just hand you the glass and exit.”
It seemed stupid to be modest with her ex-fiancé, but she found herself feeling shy. She’d put on a few pounds over the last eight years, and Hugh rolled around half-naked with gorgeous, rail-thin actresses in front of the camera—and undoubtedly in private, too.
On the other hand, sipping champagne in the giant bathtub while she watched the river traffic sail by seemed like a decadent experience not to be missed. “Just a minute.” She snatched a towel from the pile by the tub, wetting it so she could wrap it around her underwater. “All right.”