No Nice Girl
Page 17
Keeping herself out of the limelight was the only way to keep safe. To stop the people who had hurt her once, who held the evidence of that hurt over her like a threat, from publishing those photos and making their cruelty complete.
It wasn’t because she was naked in the pictures that she feared them. A body was just a body, after all, and she was certain that there were others out there far more interesting to look at than hers. It was the fact that they’d been taken without her knowledge; without her consent. She’d shown up for that audition with the hope and excitement she did for all of them. She’d not given the camera in the room a second thought—why would she? But then she’d woken up hours after sipping that bitter cup of coffee with no idea what had happened to her.
Those pictures were more than just a few titillating shots of a naïve young actress, they were evidence of her exploitation by people who wanted nothing but to humiliate her for profit.
Now she was counting on that weakness—the need to profit from her abuse—to save her. She wasn’t their first victim; she’d learned that when she’d planned to go to the police. Others had fallen for the same fake audition, the same bitter cup of coffee, and their claims that they hadn’t consented to the photos had been laughed at in blogs and magazines, by Twitter trolls and Facebook friends.
The one constructive thing Abby had learned was that the photos had only emerged when the women hit the big time. When they’d signed the contract on that summer blockbuster or become the face of a beauty brand. The photos had been squirreled away by their enterprising abusers; saved for when they could do the most damage. Fetch the highest possible price.
“I need to talk to you,” Ethan said. “What are you doing working here, of all places? It’s been almost impossible to find you. Is this some sort of research?”
“No, it’s not bloody research, it’s my life. Did it ever occur to you that there might be a reason why I’m so hard to find? That if I wanted to meet people I’d list a phone number, or an address, or retain an agent?”
Ethan stared at her, no doubt unused to such blatant rudeness, but it wasn’t anger she saw in his eyes, it was something more dangerous. He was looking at her—really looking. Studying her features. Taking in every detail. His eyes had barely left her face since she’d dragged him into the alley, except the one time that they’d dropped to the hem of her skirt, down her legs, and back up again. Blood rushed to her face.
“I’m sorry, but I have nothing to say to you, and I don’t think you could have anything to say that might interest me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
She had turned back towards the street when she heard him speak her name, his voice raised slightly, not in anger, but the tone of a man who is used to getting his own way. When she looked at him, the expression on his face confirmed that he had never had a woman, never mind an actress, walk away from him.
“Miss Richards, I am sorry to bother you at work,” he said, without sounding the least bit sorry, “but I need to talk to you. If there’s a problem with your boss, I can pay him for your time.”
She walked back over to where he was standing and tried to keep her voice low, convinced that anyone passing in the street might be watching them.
“You don’t understand. I can’t talk to you. Not here. Not anywhere. I cannot be seen talking to you. I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to leave.” She was angry at him for showing up here, but she was also terrified. He had to leave—right now. Because Ethan Walker drew publicity like a true A-lister. One innocent snap of a cameraphone could have her picture in the paper by tomorrow, and her gossip-value rising in the eyes of her attackers. But even as she was sending him daggers with her eyes, fighting him off with her body language, she could feel a very small, very rebellious part of her brain willing him to take no notice. Abby wondered if that part of her brain was having a bigger influence on her than she’d thought, because Ethan looked anything but put off. He smiled at her indulgently, his look of supreme confidence not slipping for a moment.
“Well, if you can’t talk here, I’ll send a car for you later. We can talk at my place. If you give me your address, I’ll leave right now.” And if you don’t, I’ll cause a scene. He didn’t have to say it aloud for Abby to hear the threat.
The winning hand. He knows I’ll do anything to get rid of him. Part of her was impressed that he’d read the situation so quickly and calculated how best to get what he wanted. She couldn’t afford to hesitate. She scribbled on her order pad, thrust the piece of paper into his hand, and walked away without looking back. He could send as many cars as he liked, it didn’t mean she had any intention of getting into them. Hopefully then he would get the message.
Safely back inside the diner, she watched him walk to his car and she wished, more than just about anything, that she hadn’t glanced at his backside. Because now she couldn’t look away. Thank God he hadn’t turned back to look at her; she was standing there like some seedy voyeur. It wasn’t until she heard the car turn the corner at the end of the street that she walked back into the kitchen.
“And where did you disappear to? Apparently some guy walked in here and you took off with him?” Candy asked, eager for something to liven up their morning.
Despite her pin-up girl looks—she was taller than Abby by a good six inches, and had been blessed with perfect California-blonde hair and killer curves—Candy showed no interest in the Hollywood movie scene, which was why she was the only person Abby could currently count as a friend. But Abby knew how gossip and rumors could spread almost by accident—a casual remark, a careless comment—and trusting anyone with her secret was too great a risk.
Lying was second nature to her now, and she’d been working on her excuse from the minute she’d recognized Ethan. But just because it came easily to her, it didn’t mean she had to enjoy it. Abby cringed inwardly as she spun Candy another story. “Oh, he’s a friend of a friend back home. My friend told him I was living out here and he promised him that he’d call in and see how I’m doing. I didn’t want to look like I was slacking, talking to a friend at work.” Okay, she and Ethan had both worked in the same business. It wasn’t completely impossible that they had a mutual acquaintance in London. Abby was pretty sure that this could be filed under stretching the truth rather than bare-faced lie.
“So, will you be seeing him again?”
“Oh, I doubt it. He was just doing his friend a favor really, looking in on me.” It was fortunate she was a good actress. The last thing she needed was Candy knowing that, yes, ninety-nine percent of her brain was telling her that she never wanted to see him again, but that irritating one percent was getting louder by the minute. Especially now that the danger of Ethan being recognized had passed.
Anyway, she didn’t think that he’d be that easy to shake. She’d seen the look in his eyes when she said she wouldn’t talk to him. And not only did he look like he wouldn’t be giving up on her, he didn’t think he’d have to. He seemed sure—probably with good reason—that he could make anyone do exactly what he wanted just by asking them.
• • •
Ethan slowed the car to a stop and tried to work out what had just happened. It had taken him weeks to track Abby down to the diner. When he’d found the address and seen what neighborhood it was in, he hadn’t believed it. In fact, he’d gone back and checked the information. Twice. But there she was. Working in a diner in the worst part of the city.
Before today he hadn’t given much thought to why Abby was waiting tables. It wasn’t like it was an unusual situation for an actress new to LA. True, from what he’d seen from her work in England, he hadn’t expected that she would be short of roles. Her starring role in the UK’s biggest soap opera had made her the nation’s sweetheart. Most of the men in the country had fallen in love with her bright blue eyes, messy blonde curls, and innocent expression.
But the business out here could be pretty harsh. A sharp word or two in an audition, the suggest
ion that an actress might need to lose a little weight, have a little work done, were by no means unusual, and would knock the confidence of even the most seasoned professional.
Not that Abby needed any work, of course. Anyone who suggested it was an idiot. The girl was perfect. He thought back to the time he had first seen her face. Stuck in a hotel in London, flicking through cable channels to pass the time, he had come across reruns of a soap opera. Not the sort of thing that would usually catch his attention, but the screen was filled with this mesmeric face, and he found that he couldn’t change the channel; didn’t want to. The scenes she was in were lit up by her presence. Her talent would have been remarkable even without that face, that petite, elfin body, but all together as a package, she was perfect.
As soon as he’d seen Abby on TV, he’d known that he’d found his lead actress. He couldn’t see anyone else holding a scene, speaking the words, like Abby would. The moment the credits had rolled on screen he’d called his assistant and given the details of the show.
“I want to see this girl before I go back to LA. Find her and set up a meeting.”
When his assistant got back to tell him that he couldn’t find her, he’d been furious, though of course hadn’t shown it. He had personally called Abby Richards’ agent and demanded that he send her for an audition immediately. But Marcus hadn’t seen her for two years, not since she’d left England for LA. Ethan did some more digging—it seemed as if no one had seen her for two years. That was when he’d hired the detective.
Whatever was holding her back, Ethan could overcome it. He had to, because if he couldn’t persuade her to make this movie, his career was as good as over. The script had been in preproduction for years, waiting for the right team to be put together. It had been rewritten endless times, and all the big-name directors had had their name attached to the project at some time or another. He had finally got the script just right; the team just right. Everything but the lead actress. Everyone he had auditioned and screen tested had been okay, some had even been excellent, but no one was perfect and now the financiers were talking about pulling out. If that happened, the movie would never get made, and it would be no one’s fault but his own. Even if rumors about financial problems got out, it was ruined. Any threat of money trouble and people would start pulling out left, right, and center. The considerable financial stake he’d invested would be gone, but more importantly, his reputation would be ruined. He might never get another movie off the ground again.
He needed Abby. She had changed, yes, but the changes were all for the better as far as he was concerned. He doubted that many people would recognize her if they walked into the diner. He wasn’t sure what it was—there was no disguise, no drastic change. It was more an accumulation of subtle changes; her hair slightly fairer, her skin glowing more. Most of all, she looked like the least vulnerable person he’d ever met. There was a fierceness in her eyes that hadn’t been there on screen.
And she was beautiful. That first time he’d seen her on screen he’d been instantly attracted; his whole body had seemed to come alive when he saw her. He’d expected that after weeks of looking at her on screen—watching reruns and showreels—the effect would have weakened. But nothing had prepared him for how he felt when she’d dragged him down that alley. The way his arms had ached to pull her close to him. The spark of heat where she’d held his hand in hers.
Her reaction to him had been unexpected, admittedly. She hadn’t just been uninterested, she’d been furious. Well, that might be a minor stumbling block, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Once she knew what he was offering her, there was no way she could say no.
If he’d thought she was perfect for the role before he met her, he was certain of it now. She was enchanting. Utterly mesmerizing. And he had to have her.
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Copyright © 1946 by Arcadia House; renewed 1974.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 10: 1-4405-7560-6
ISBN 10: 1-4405-7560-6
eISBN 10: 1-4405-7559-2
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7559-4
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