by Laura Ward
The door shut, and I slipped into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. I looked over my shoulder and saw Reynolds was still by the front door, watching me. Turning off the faucet, I went back into the foyer and away from the boys before we spoke.
Reynolds placed his hands on my shoulders and met my timid gaze. “Liz, I’m sorry she came here—to your home. Please don’t take anything she said to heart. She was trying to get to me. She’s wrong in so many ways.”
I laughed and shrugged out of his grasp. “Almost everything she said was true. I am old, and I am a single mom, but I’m not a trollop. That was a lie.” I gave him a weak smile and looked at the floor.
Oh shit. Now he knew I heard everything. Reynolds closed his eyes, no doubt replaying what he had said and how he could retract it.
“She obviously has the wrong idea. We are friends. Why would she think otherwise?”
Reynolds sighed deeply and when he re-opened his eyes, his expression was wary and uncertain. “She’s a jealous and insecure person. She assumed I would come crawling back to her, but I didn’t. She has no idea what I am up to, so she assumes I’m having a fling with you. There’s also the fact that I don’t have any female friends back in L.A.”
“You don’t have any girl friends?” I asked. This surprised me. Not only was Reynolds sensitive and kind, but he was a rich, famous, actor. Weren’t people knocking down his door, trying to be his friend?
“I don’t have friends, period. My work has kept me too busy, and the people I’ve met haven’t been the most trustworthy. I have a few people I would consider friends, but no one I would call to talk about what had happened with Kylie. I’ve only talked to you and to my parents about that.” Reynolds looked embarrassed as he stared into the kitchen.
“You’ve been so open and honest with me. I never had that, not even with Kylie.” Reynolds stared into my eyes, and my breath quickened. His face showed both strength and vulnerability, and it was a sexy as hell combination. It was pure hotness and raw emotion. My gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips, and I wondered if he kissed with that kind of intensity. I inched closer to him, my eyes mesmerized by his mouth.
Stop this right now.
I rubbed my neck and looked away. Reynolds made a soft grunt and put his finger under my chin, forcing me to look at his blazing eyes. What was that look? Affection over our project and friendship? Or, maybe, something else?
Reynolds leaned closer to me, and his breath brushed against my face. His scent overwhelmed my senses and the heat emanating from his body warmed my skin. I closed my eyes and took everything in. For a split second, I thought about leaning forward and pressing my lips against his. My thumb rubbed against my wedding rings and I snapped my eyes back open. What the hell is wrong with me?
This. Could. Not. Happen.
“Mom, the game started. Are you guys coming? We want nachos!” Grayson called from the family room.
I stepped back. “Be right there!” Then, I turned back to face Reynolds, straightening my shoulders. “I think you should go. This is a lot for me for one day, and I think we should pick up writing tomorrow.” Changing plans on him felt wrong, but I didn’t think I could sit in the family room, watching him eat nachos with my boys right now. Something had shifted, and I needed to bring us back to reality.
“Okay, Elizabeth. I’ll go.” His voice was low and husky. “But I meant every word I said before. I didn’t think you could hear me, but I’m glad you did. I was being honest. Kylie doesn’t deserve to be near you. She doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air.” He let out a deep sigh and pulled at his messy hair. Then he turned and left. I leaned back against the door as it closed and shut my eyes.
Holy effing shit.
“Pass the popcorn, piggy.”
Cindy shook her head, grabbed another huge handful of popcorn, snorted, and then shoved it into her mouth.
I, ever the classy friend, chugged my glass of wine instead. Once the boys were in bed, I had caught her up on my weekend.
“Desirable, huh?” Cindy waggled her eyebrows. “Nice.”
“Cindy, he was trying to make his ex-girlfriend jealous. Nothing more.”
“Ha! Keep telling yourself that.” Cindy put down the bowl of popcorn and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “The man chose to visit my own personal form of hell, Hydes Field, on a Saturday morning, and then come back the next day for brunch with your parents and games with your boys? Dudes like Reynolds Carter don’t eat brunch with the elderly, no offense to Pat and Jim, to make someone back in California jealous.
I took another drink of wine.
“He’s spent time listening to your story, he’s eaten your food, gotten to know your family, and called you desirable. He’s making you feel like a woman again.”
“I feel drunk around him. Wrecked. Intoxicated by his presence. I can’t think straight and everything is happening so fast. I need to clear my head.”
“You can’t sober up around a man like Reynolds. And why would you want to? Enjoy this.”
“Enjoy what? Flirting with a man who will be leaving here as soon as our work is finished? Nothing is happening and nothing will happen.” I sat back and closed my eyes. “Okay, maybe there’s been a little innocent flirting, but that ends right now. I need to get it the fuck together.”
We were rushing to finish a section of the screenplay before Reynolds left for L.A. Two weeks had passed since Kylie’s visit, and we had focused on nothing but work. Now Reynolds had to make a short trip home for a few meetings.
“What if we end this scene with Elwood opening the door to his new apartment?” Reynolds was typing, holding a pencil in his mouth, and talking at the same time.
“Oh! I like it. That would be a powerful way to wrap up that section. His new beginning was starting, but there were so many others left without any hope.”
Reynolds nodded and kept typing, and then flailed his arms outward, knocking over his coffee. “SHIT. Aww damn. I’m so sorry.” He scrambled to lift his notes, phone, and laptop up off the table as I sprinted to the counter to grab paper towels.
“I live in a house with three wild boys. Spills are an hourly occurrence. No worries. Is your laptop okay?” I wiped up the pool of coffee on the table and then knelt on the floor and sopped up the mess there.
“Give me that. Stop cleaning. It’s my fault.” Reynolds tried to take the towels from me as I crawled farther under the kitchen table to mop up the dripping liquid.
I handed him his own bunch of towels, and we cleaned quickly, until we turned at the same time and bumped heads.
I moved back and up, smacking my head against the metal bars on the underside of the table. I gasped as the sharp pain radiated through my head, causing me to see stars for a minute. “Ow. That freaking hurts.” I rubbed the top of my smarting head as Reynolds moved closer to me under the table. He took my dirty towels and dragged me to him.
“Let me see, I want to make sure you aren’t bleeding.” He pulled my head closer to his lap, moving my hair aside.
“I’m fine! I’m just a big baby.” Lifting my head, I stuck out my lower lip in a mock pout as I massaged the sore spot. We sat knee to knee, our faces just inches apart, in the strangely shaded privacy under my table.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he placed his finger on my outstretched lip whispering, “Not a baby, Elizabeth…You are…”
I froze. We were close. Intimately so. His finger on the soft part of my lip made me gasp. Our breaths merged, and I watched his face to try and understand his reaction, but all I could pick up was heat.
Reynolds leaned closer, and I could smell his shampoo and soap. It was a different scent than I was used to, but it was mouthwatering nonetheless. Wait. No. No. No. No. No.
I scrambled backward and smacked my head once more as I got to my feet and moved to the kitchen sink. At this point, my lack of coordination was the least of my worries. A few silent moments passed, and I wondered what he was thinking. He was, by nature of his profession,
a flirt. It was what he was used to. It was casual and fun. This had to all be in my head. Had I led him on? Was my attempt at friendship misconstrued?
“All done. I think I got it all cleaned up.” Reynolds murmured, standing behind me. I turned around, and he glanced at his watch. “Look at the time. I’ve got to go. My plane takes off for L.A. in a few hours, but I’ll be back Monday. If you need anything, give me a call.” He scraped his hand through his hair. “Okay, well, bye, I guess.”
“Oh, yes…sure…goodbye. Safe travels.” I sounded unsure and awkward even to my own ears. What did I want to say? I’d miss him? I would. I loved every minute we had spent together. The past two weeks had passed as if Kylie’s visit had never occurred. Everything had been fine until just now. Before today we had worked together every day writing, editing, and revising. We ate lunch together, and Reynolds stayed for dinner more often than not. The boys played soccer, video games, and had ridden horses with him several times.
And I continued to pretend everything was fine. I was not attracted to him. Nothing was happening.
Because I am a damn coward.
Part of my thought process was that there had been no more close calls between us. No more flirting. Nothing more than an accidental brushing of hands. Did it say something that I knew exactly how many times that had happened?
No, of course not.
Four. We had touched hands four times. Twice he had moved a stray strand of hair from my face. One time he had stood so close behind me as he read over my shoulder, that his warm breath left a trail of goose bumps along my neck.
My counting meant nothing. Just like I knew those encounters meant nothing to him.
“I’LL TAKE A vodka on the rocks, please. And you can keep them coming.” I was sitting on the penthouse level club bar at Soho House, waiting on Paul. I liked the fact that Soho House in West Hollywood was private. Membership was limited to those in television, movies, and media. You came here to mingle and be seen, and Paul liked nothing more than to be seen.
“Where the hell have you been hiding?” Paul sat next to me and snapped his order at the bartender. He was a fucking asshole.
“Seriously? Do you need to be so rude? You just sat down.”
He winked at me and spoke with an arrogant sneer. “You getting soft on me, Carter? Did your sad ass story in Baltimore make you all warm and fuzzy inside?”
I ignored him. He was not worth the energy, but he was a decent manager. He had gotten me far in this business, and I owed him something for that. “What did you want to talk about?”
Paul held up one finger and pointed to his phone. He turned away from me to talk semi-privately, and I downed the rest of my cocktail. The amount of vodka was not nearly enough to bring me the answers I was looking for. I motioned to the bartender, but he was already placing my next round on the bar top.
I swirled the fresh drink in my hands. Number two was ready to go down. I didn’t know what to do. Liz had heard what I said to Kylie. Every single fucking word. I let out a deep sigh and took a long swig. The chilled liquid coated my throat and for a second, the tension eased, but then it was back. She had shot me down. Hard. She had said nothing when I told her I meant every word, except that I needed to leave her house. For the next two weeks, I acted like it hadn’t happened. I would act my fucking face off to keep the project going. Especially if it meant that I’d still get to be around her and the boys. That was an added benefit I hadn't expected when beginning the project.
Looking around the noisy bar, I was relieved I didn’t recognize anyone. I was not in the mood to talk. Instead, I thought about the times I’d been physically close to Liz. Twice I had touched her hair, and then her cheek and her ears as I had tucked her hair away. It was twice I know, because one time was the left ear and one was the right. Both equally irresistible. I used a considerable amount of self-control to keep myself from leaning down and following the touch with a kiss. Her skin was soft, and I could only imagine the sounds she would make if I kissed her.
The room was too hot, so I unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled up my sleeves. My throat was dry, and I took another long drink. Jesus. What is happening to me?
One time I hovered behind her, breathing on her neck, teasing her to see her reaction. She had one all right. I brought my nose closer to her neck, only trying to read the screen closer up, of course. I smelled her light, sexy floral smell, and she motherfucking shivered….well, hell. I had never seen anything better. My heart had raced, and my hands had clenched in a reminder that I could not push her. I think it took me twenty-four hours and three cold showers to lose that hard-on.
I was having an effect on her. I knew when a woman was aroused. I knew all the signs and Liz was definitely showing them. Her face would flush, her breathing would speed up, and then she’d lick her bottom lip. God, I want to lick her bottom lip. I adjusted on my stool.
Yesterday, when I thought she was ready for me to make a move, and we were close enough to kiss—she panicked. What the fuck? I may be her number one Hollywood crush, but it didn’t mean she wanted to act on that attraction. For the record, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to act on it, either.
Looking around the club, I knew this was my world. I shook my drink, the ice rattling in the glass, and the bartender appeared instantly. He cocked his head to the side, and I nodded, our non-verbal communication perfect for my mood. My eyes shifted when the stool next to me moved. A young woman with legs that went for miles sidled up to me.
“I’ll have what he’s having.” She glanced over at me after the bartender got her order. Her red hair fell along her shoulders. I knew what she wanted. I could read her signs, too. Normally, I’d smile and wink. Maybe we’d make a little small talk and well, one thing could lead to another.
Today, I only focused on the rows of bottles lining the back of the bar. A fresh vodka was placed in front of me, and I nodded in thanks. I took a drink, thinking that there wasn’t a chocolate milk, cookie, or toy train in sight. That was a good thing, right?
Liz was absolutely sexy to me, but she wasn’t the type of woman you could casually date. She came with strings attached. Those strings happened to be completely awesome little men, but still. If Liz wanted to date me…if she could admit our attraction was real and see if we would work together, then I needed to think this shit through. If I wasn’t ready to take on her whole family, I needed to stop flirting with her.
Hopefully lucidity would be mine after a few more of these vodkas.
“Sorry, Reynolds. That was Kylie.” Paul eyed the redhead and winked. Being the idiot that I was, I had encouraged Kylie to sign on with Paul as her manager as well. Now it was just another connection between us.
“It’s fine. What’s up?” I took another sip and felt a welcoming buzz flow through me.
“I’ve got a huge, HUGE movie prospect for you and Kylie. You’d play the romantic interests. It’s a movie based on a wildly popular set of e-books. I’ll send you the script. Starts shooting in two months. They’re fast tracking the auditions, and the author wants the two of you. Can you come in for the readings next week?” Paul was texting someone as he talked.
“Paul!” My face tightened and I clenched my hand into a fist. He looked up and realized I was pissed. “Have you been listening to me at all the past few weeks?” I spoke louder, my agitation growing. “I’m not working on this project in Baltimore for shits and giggles. I want to make this happen. I’m pouring my heart and soul into this. Besides, Kylie and I are over. I won’t work with her again!”
Paul shook his head and finished his drink. “You have no idea if anyone will have any interest in the Baltimore project. You’re banking everything on a screenplay about a guy no one has even heard of. For what? Sympathy for a widow? That’s more important than moving forward with Kylie, one of the sexiest actresses alive? What the hell?”
My fist banging on the bar caused his martini glass to fall sideways. He jerked his head up, waiting for my impending explosion.
>
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” My blood boiled, and I forced myself to not leap up and punch him. “You might not give a shit about this story, but I do. That’s all that matters. It’s on me to make other people care about it, not you. I told you, I want to try this. If it fails, it fails. But I’m not giving up on it just because you have a big movie deal in the works. There’ll always be a big movie deal in the works.”
Leaning in close to his face, I grabbed a fist full of his shirt. “And don’t ever speak about Liz again. Kylie means nothing to me anymore. She’s not worth my time. But Liz? Liz is different, and if you don’t respect that, you don’t get to say her name. Feel me?” Paul was a successful manager, but he was a small, scared, piss-ant. He did not want to be hit.
“Yeah. I hear you.”
My vodka buzz was teetering on the verge of drunk. Paul had finally left and I had to order dinner, or I would never be able to drive home. So while I waited for my food, I sat in silence, replaying the last few weeks of my life. Before I knew it, the server set my steak in front of me. I looked down at the best West Hollywood had to offer. Shaking my head, several thoughts ran through my brain. One, this steak had nothing on Liz’s. Two, I wished we were sharing a bottle of her favorite Cabernet that paired perfectly with rib-eyes. Three, the fake amusement and club music was nowhere near as entertaining as the laughter and jokes from those three boys. And four, I got mighty pissed at Paul over a small comment about Liz.
Clarity, table for one?
I think I had my answer.
“THAT DRESS IS slamming hot on you. Buy it!” Cindy hollered out as she fanned herself.
I stared at myself in the dressing room mirror. The skintight purple mini dress was so not me. Right now, though, I wanted to be anyone other than me.