by Anthology
Especially when Jackson was in the room.
Stop thinking like that, I told myself. He would probably be leaving for some glamorous movie star party soon.
To my great relief, the dancing actually allowed me to put my Jackson obsession on pause for a little while. First Samuel asked me to dance, followed by his twin brother Matias. That was a nice thing about the Medina boys—you could always count on them to be good dance partners whenever there was music present.
After I danced again with Matias, I went in search of some water, trying not to think about how sluggish the pregnancy was making me. A few short months ago I could have danced the night away without pause. Now, three dances in and I needed a break.
I drank my water in peace, trying to keep my eyes from searching for Jackson. He didn’t seem to be on the dance floor or in his seat—had he left? The thought made me feel much more disappointed than it should have.
But then Maria’s son, nine-year-old Jose Junior, stepped in front of me. He looked adorable in his little suit, and I grinned at his almost shy smile. “Mama said I should ask you to dance.”
I raised an eyebrow. “She did, huh?” Across the dance floor Maria gave me a little wave. When JJ held out his arm for me, I couldn’t help but laugh. She was training him to be a charmer, just like his uncles. “Thank you, JJ.”
It was cute, really, the way he put one hand on my waist and the other in mine. Someone must have been practicing with him. I saw Matias give him a large wink from a few feet away and stifled a laugh.
For the first few minutes of our dance, JJ didn’t speak at all, his eyes firmly glued to his feet. I thought I saw him mouthing the count. “Hey there, buddy,” I finally said, shaking his arm a little. “Loosen up.”
He looked up at me, grinning sheepishly. “I don’t want to step on your feet.”
“Don’t worry about it. This is salsa music—it’s all about the beat. And you can feel the beat better if you stop thinking about it.”
His chin dipped again and I shook his arm harder. “Nope. Look up here.”
So he held my gaze, grinning shyly. Right away he seemed less awkward—even though he did step on my feet a few times.
“That’s much better, JJ,” I encouraged, trying not wince as he stomped on my toe.
“My mom says I should be a natural dancer,” he told me, his grin growing, and I marveled at how smug a nine-year-old could sound. Once again the spoiled Medina boy syndrome appeared to be rearing its head. “Says it runs in the family.”
“Your mom should know,” I told him. “She’s the best dancer I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” a velvety English-accented voice said behind me.
I spun in my spot, barely noticing his yelp as I paid JJ back with a stomp on his toes in my haste. Sure enough, Jackson Coles stood behind me, a positively dangerous smile on his face.
I opened my mouth and no sound came out, so I closed it again quickly. If he was put off by my weirdness, Jackson didn’t say anything. Instead he looked at JJ. “You’re doing very well, young man. Do you mind if I cut in?”
I didn’t hear if JJ responded, I was too busy pushing him away. This must be what shock feels like, I thought, completely unable to wrap my brain around the idea that Jackson wanted to dance with me. Luckily, my body seemed to not need directions from my whirling brain, and I automatically stepped right into Jackson’s arms when he held them out. He grinned, pulling me a little closer and turning us out onto the floor. Out of the corner of my eye I could see JJ standing where I had left him, watching us in confusion.
Sorry, kid, I thought, but Jackson is super hot. He would understand in about six years.
“It’s Sofia, right?” Jackson asked, that velvety voice sending a thrill down my spine. He had found out my name! Granted, it was listed right in the program, but still!
“Yes,” I murmured. Well, I tried to murmur. In actuality it came out much more like a hysterical yelp. “But everyone calls me Sofie.”
“I’m Jackson.”
Again I had to bite back a mad giggle. He was introducing himself to me. Did he not realize that I had spent countless hours of my life watching him on a movie or TV screen? When I was in high school I’d had a notebook with his face on it.
“I know.”
He smiled, but it seemed a little weak to me. Had he hoped I wouldn’t recognize him? But then it seemed to brighten as the song changed to something a little slower. Was I imagining that he was pulling me slightly closer?
“I have to tell you, Sofie. I’ve been watching you all night.”
His words sent little sparks of shock through me. So I hadn’t been making it up. But why? Before I could stop myself, I blurted out that very question.
“Why?”
He smiled that movie star smile of his and I swear it was enough to make my knees weak. He was close enough that I could smell his aftershave, could see the darker flecks of blue in his icy eyes. His arms around me were strong and steady—a good thing, because I was feeling distinctly unstable.
“Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face as expressive as yours.”
Hmm. Expressive. I would have rather he would have used a word closer to beautiful, but I supposed expressive wasn’t too bad. At least he hadn’t said he’d never seen someone as gigantic as me.
“I couldn’t look away during the ceremony,” he went on, his voice lowering a little bit, making my heart beat faster. “I watched you watching your cousin, and then her parents. And I could see it—the love you felt for them, the happiness in your face. Something like… relief, maybe? And then you looked at someone else and your expression completely changed—you were angry and frustrated… ” He trailed off, looking down into my eyes. I was holding my breath, completely under his spell. “But you also looked fierce. Unapologetic.” He laughed and I finally let out my breath, feeling like expressive was a pretty good adjective after all. “I kept thinking that if I could somehow replicate that kind of pure emotional expression I’d be an Oscar winner in no time.
“Wow,” I whispered, completely overwhelmed. He hadn’t just noticed me during the ceremony, he had studied me.
“And,” he went on, that dangerous smile deepening, “I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you are.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, staring up at him with what I was sure was an attractive expression of slack-jawed disbelief. He laughed and the sound made the little hairs on my arms stand up. How could something so simple as a laugh be so sexy? And how could someone so sexy think that I was beautiful?
Suddenly I had a flash of memory—Lizzie rolling her eyes while talking about Jackson. He’s a terrible flirt, she had said. Totally full of himself.
“I mean it,” he said, pushing on my waist gently so I would start to move to the music once more.
“That’s… I mean… it’s ridiculous,” I stammered.
It was Jackson’s turn to stop dancing to look down at me, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you say that?”
Suddenly, I felt sick, Lizzie’s dismissive attitude about Thomas’s co-star fresh in my mind. What had she said? He flirts with anything that moves. Was this a game for him? Find the most desperate girl at the party and hit on her?
“I should probably get back to my family.” I started to pull away but the look of disappointment on Jackson’s face was so strong I paused. He’s an actor, I reminded myself. You need to be careful.
“Please, finish the dance with me.”
“I… Okay.”
He was quiet for only a moment. “Why did you say that it was ridiculous? For me to call you beautiful?”
“Because… look at me!”
That grin again, just a hint now playing around his mouth. “I am. I have been.”
“So you clearly see a bloated, pregnant, waddling, klutz who—”
“Hey.” He looked honestly upset. Again I tried to remind myself that he got paid to make people think he felt a certain way. “Don�
��t say that about yourself. It’s not true, first of all—”
“It is true,” I countered. “I’m more than six months pregnant.”
“But that doesn’t make you any less beautiful.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t give me the whole pregnant woman glow thing. I really can’t take it.”
His frown disappeared. “There it is again. That fierce look I saw in the church.”
“Well, I mean—”
But he cut me off. “I don’t know about a glow, all right? But I do know that you’re beautiful. And I’m somewhat of an expert when it comes to beauty.” He winked. “People make kind of a big deal about it in my line of work.”
“Yes, well, that’s my point!” It was the most surreal thing—arguing with a movie star. “You spend all day with some of the most beautiful women in entertainment. Thin, perfect actresses who look nothing like me.”
“That’s a good thing.”
I shook my head, convinced more than ever that he was playing a game. “This is silly.”
“Look, most of the people I know are completely fake. Plastic. All hard edges and blank faces.” He shook his head and suddenly he didn’t look so much like the perfect movie star I had always known him to be. His face was softer, somehow. Like the facade he normally wore was a bit more transparent. “Everyone hides behind their little masks and no one ever says anything real.” He paused, swallowing, looking almost embarrassed. “In five seconds of looking at you I knew you weren’t hiding anything. And in five minutes of talking to you, you’ve said more to me that’s real than any of the actresses you think are so perfect.”
His eyes met mine and the intensity in them made my heart beat faster. I believed him, stupid as it might be. Actor or not, I believed him. “Wow,” I whispered, completely at a loss.
He laughed, looking more like the smooth version of himself I would see in magazines and on TV. “Does that mean you’ll stay and dance with me?”
I should have probably said no. I should have probably trusted Lizzie and believed him to be a self-absorbed, insincere flirt. I should have walked back to my family and tucked this little memory away to tell people about later. The night I danced with a movie star and he called me beautiful.
Instead, I stepped a little closer into his arms. “I’ll stay.”
I danced with Jackson for an hour. At least I thought it was an hour. It was kind of hard to keep track of time with my head spinning so thoroughly. Being this close to him, the sound of his voice in my ear, the scent of him—it was overwhelming. I could study every detail of his perfect face, pick out the tiny imperfections I had never noticed on the screen. His left eye, slightly off-center. The minuscule scar beside his ear. The way his hair seemed somehow less mused when he ran his hands through it—something he did often while talking.
And talk he did. He told me all about the movie he was about to wrap, about his plans for work in the new year. Another Darkness movie was scheduled to start shooting soon, and he was both excited and slightly annoyed by it. There were so many other things he wanted to devote his time to, other projects and different characters.
Mostly I watched his face while he talked. At first he looked just the way he did in the films—I realized that this was the mask he mentioned. The smooth, perfect veneer he had to wear in public. But as he got more excited about his projects, as his hands went to his hair more frequently, flattening it out from its previous perfectly tousled finesse, I started to notice a difference in him. The public Jackson fading away to be replaced by the softer, less perfect version.
It was strange—I think I liked the less perfect version better.
And when he asked me about my life, about my job and my family, he actually seemed interested in what I had to say. He asked a million questions about my cousins and our family get-togethers, about my thoughts on the baby and my plans. When I told him how nervous I was, how terrified I was that I’d be bad at it, he smiled.
“I know we’re pretty much strangers, Sofie, but I would put a lot of money on you being a great mom.”
It was strange that a compliment like that could make me feel so much better—he was, after all, a stranger like he said. And people who knew me much better—Lizzie, my cousins, my parents—had been saying the same thing to me for months. But somehow, coming from Jackson of all people, it felt real.
My happy little bubble seemed to finally pierce when Lizzie danced past us, arms around Thomas. Both of their gazes lingered on us. Both of them looked concerned.
Jackson sighed a little, his features hardening back into the movie star facade.
“I have a feeling your cousin isn’t too happy about me dancing with you.”
I laughed. “She probably thinks you’re going to take advantage of me because I’m so star struck.”
His face hardened further. “She has good reason for thinking that.”
I felt a little cold at his words. “Really? Is that what you plan to do? Take advantage of me?”
He looked down at me, his eyes wide. “God, no. Of course not, Sofie. I just… she would have reason to think that because it’s what normally happens.”
I didn’t know how to react to that. So he was admitting to using his fame to take advantage of girls but saying he wouldn’t do that with me? “Oh,” I finally said, for lack of anything better.
Jackson sighed. “I just mean… I haven’t always handled it well. The fame thing. I’ve let myself become… shallow, I suppose. I get too carried away in the adoration and the praise. I let myself think it’s real.”
“Jackson—”
“But it’s not real,” he went on, his voice low. “If it were real, I wouldn’t feel so lonely all the damn time.”
I stared up at him, completely at a loss. He sounded so bitter. So… defeated. How was this the same man who had flashed flirty little smiles at me all night?
“I’m sorry,” I finally said, not able to handle the sadness in his eyes any more. “I’m sorry that you’re lonely. I think… people probably don’t realize how isolating your job must be. I know how much Thomas works… ”
He nodded, his expression turning hopeful. As if he thought maybe I might understand. “The work makes it hard. But even more than that… it’s the division, you know? People put you on such a pedestal. How can you ever make something real?” His gaze followed Thomas and Lizzie. “Thomas found something real in Lizzie.” He sounded… envious. Again I felt cold.
“You sound jealous,” I blurted out, expecting him to deny it. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully.
“I suppose I am.”
I thought of the recent gossip headlines regarding Jackson and Lizzie—they’d had coffee together a few weeks ago and the tabloids had all tried to paint it off as a clandestine meeting. Lizzie had laughed about it like it was the most ridiculous thing imaginable. But maybe it was only ridiculous for her…
“Do you… do you have feelings for my cousin?”
His eyes snapped back to mine. “God, no! Lizzie and Thomas are perfect for each other, I would never… Besides, she had no idea who I was when she met Thomas.” He winked. “I said I wanted something real, but that doesn’t mean my ego is going to be attracted to someone who isn’t at least a little bit impressed with me.”
I laughed at his honesty before I could stop myself. “But you said you were jealous.”
“Of the kind of relationship that they have. Not that he gets Lizzie.”
“So you thought… you could to hook up with her cousin? See if it’s a family thing?”
He sighed and I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. “You know, I thought the whole fierce and sassy thing was cute before. But now I’m second-guessing that assessment.”
I smacked his arm without thinking, exactly what I would have done to any other guy who made a joke like that—but then realized that he wasn’t any other guy. He was a rich and famous movie star that most women would give anything to dance with. And I had just smacked him.
/> Before I could apologize he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against mine. In shock I stood absolutely still. Was Jackson Coles kissing me?
I don’t know how I thought he would react to me hitting him, but it certainly wasn’t like this.
He pulled back, his blue eyes searching mine. “Sorry,” he murmured, though he sounded anything but. “I should have asked first. I just… you smacked me.”
“Did you always kiss people who smack you?” I squeaked. “That sounds like kind of a weird reaction.”
He chuckled. “No one ever smacks me. No one ever does anything but compliment me and kiss my arse.”
My heart was racing and I was flooded with a mixture of disbelief and regret. I had just been kissed by the hottest guy I had ever seen and I’d been too shocked to even enjoy it. Without much thought, I took a step closer. “So what you’re saying,” I whispered, hardly believing my own daring, “is that you’re attracted to girls who are mean to you.”
He grinned, his eyes on my lips. “I don’t know if I would put it quite that way.”
“But if I smack you again you might kiss me again?”
His eyes—now a shade darker blue than I had ever seen them—never left my lips. “I don’t know, Sofie. Why don’t you give it a try?”
Chapter Three
“Where are we going?” Jackson whispered, his hand tight around mine in the darkness. “Sofie, I can’t see a thing!”
“Hang on,” I muttered, my hands flying over the wall for a light switch. I had led Jackson into the darkened back hall by the kitchen in search of the store room where we had stashed the wedding gifts. Though I helped stack up the gifts only a few hours ago, I was far too overwhelmed by all things Jackson to remember the layout back here. Finally my hand closed over a door knob. “This is it.”
Before I could swing the door open, his lips were on my neck, making me shudder violently. I should have just stayed on the dance floor, I thought. Family audience or not, at least then we would be kissing right now.