She frowned. “What? You’re not making a lick of sense.”
He glanced at her. “A lick of sense?”
“It’s a figure of speech. We say things a little differently in the southern states.”
He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “This is what I want you to do. Pack a bag for a few days. I’m kidnapping you.”
She sat up, swinging around to face him. “And where are you taking me?”
He walked toward her. “It’s a surprise. Are you game?”
“Of course I am, but what about the press?” She indicated the window.
“They’re not invited.” He grinned.
“But how . . .?”
He leaned over, touching his forehead to hers. “You’re going to have to trust me.”
Her pulse skipped. “Just give me a few minutes.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
Her lips twisted. “You could’ve done that earlier.”
His smile was wide. “Yeah, but my way was so much more enjoyable.” He opened the bedroom door, striding out.
~ ~ ~
He was gone for five minutes before Nicole jumped into action. Could this really be happening? Was he actually going to take her away for the weekend? Where were they going?
She threw an assortment of clothes in her backpack, along with her toothbrush, hair brush, comb, and bath paraphernalia. She added her laptop, iPod, and wallet to the mix before sprinting down the stairs. She glanced around the hall but couldn’t find him.
“Hey, where’d you go?”
“I’m in here,” he called down the hall to her.
She followed the sound of his voice, entering the office. “I see you’ve found my writing nook.”
The room had a large picture window, a window seat, and was situated at the back of the house. It was bright, airy, and she absolutely loved it. Her desk was positioned in a strategic corner, catching the best light. Reece’s poster was hanging directly above it.
He was silent as he looked at the walls; his face was everywhere.
“What do you think? Isn’t it great?”
He turned to her at last. She took a small step backward at the look on his face. He was angry. “What do I think?” he asked, gritting his teeth.
“Reece, what’s wrong?”
He closed his eyes, raking his hands through his hair. “I thought you were different.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
He waved his hands at the walls. “All of this. You’re just like the rest of them,” he accused. “What do you want from me?” He bent over at the waist, breathing deep. “Did you plan it? Did you purposely throw yourself in front of me at the airport?”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
He scowled at her. “You heard me.”
“Is that what you think? That I’d purposely throw myself in harm’s way to meet you?”
He waved at the walls. “How can I not after seeing this shrine?”
Of all the stupid, egotistical . . . Yes, his pictures were the most predominant throughout the room, but they were hardly the only posters on display. There were pictures of assorted men tacked all over the walls, including other movie stars and models.
She planted her feet in a fighter’s stance; her hands were on her hips, and she was glaring back at him. “Conceited much?” Stomping over to the poster above her desk, she ripped it down, tossing it at his feet. “It’s called visual inspiration.”
She yanked a drawer open, pulled out a stack of manila folders, and threw them down on the desktop. “I have folders packed with pictures of men. Their lips, eyes, smiles, torsos . . .” She pointed at each folder as she named it. “This is what I do. I’m a writer. I use all of this for my writing, you stupid, self-centered jerk!”
Reece’s entire countenance changed in an instant. He stepped toward her. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. You’re a self-centered jerk.”
“No, I mean . . .” Speechless, he ran his hand through his hair.
Nicole rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Do you honestly believe I liked having my face slammed into the ground or my foot nearly ripped from my body? I’m not a masochist, Reece. I don’t enjoy pain. I had no idea you were going to be on that flight. The only reason I was late is because I have a serious problem with procrastination.” She crossed her arms in a defensive position. She was so angry, she wanted to hit something—him mostly.
“Nicole, I . . .”
Her lips were pursed. “I think you should go now.” She wouldn’t look at him.
He could see she was angry. “I’m sorry. I suppose I overreacted.”
She snorted. “Understatement.”
He chuckled. “Yeah.” He glanced around the room with new eyes and a new perspective. It wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought. “It’s just . . . I’ve met people like that—people who’ll contrive a way to meet me. I’m surrounded by fame suckers, so to think that someone I thought was genuine turned out to be just as phony, well, it threw me.”
Nicole rubbed her chin against her shoulder, still managing to avoid looking his way. “Do you know I met a lady at the pub today who said she’d love to be knocked down by you? I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at her.” She finally glanced at him. “I’m not like that, Reece,” she said, her voice calmer. “I wouldn’t objectify you that way. Despite my initial reaction on the plane, I think I’ve treated you pretty normal.” She shrugged. “I thought you were a great, down to earth guy. I really liked you.”
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
Her eyes widened. “Why are you thanking me?”
“Because you treat me like a normal person and call me a jackass.”
Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t call you a jackass.”
“No, but you wanted to. Admit it.” He grinned his one-sided grin.
She couldn’t resist, the last of her anger draining away. She smiled back at him. “How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Get me to stop being mad at you?”
His grin widened. “It’s a talent.” He bent down, retrieving the poster from the floor. “Do you want me to hang this back up for you?”
“That would be great.” She watched as he leaned across the desk and stretched to put the poster back, enjoying the view of his butt.
He studied the picture. “I don’t know why you like this one.”
She raised her eyes from his backside. “Have you ever looked in a mirror? You’re freakin’ gorgeous. Face it, my friend, you’re eye candy for all females between the ages of thirteen and eighty.”
“Does that include you?”
“Well, duh.”
He was still staring at the poster. “It’s not even one of my best roles.”
She opened the desk drawer, returning the folders to their proper place. “You’re right. The movie sucked, but you were great.” She began to blush. “Besides getting to see your body, you did a wonderful job of portraying the character. Watching you was like living the part, experiencing everything you were feeling. I think that’s the mark of a good actor.”
He turned to her. “And a writer too, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. There’s nothing worse than opening a book and finding the characters have no depth or feeling. It would be like reading an accident report—just the plain hard facts.”
“Well, lucky for us, you don’t write that way.”
She dipped her head. “Thank you.”
He glanced around the room one last time. “Are you ready to go?”
She picked up her bag. “I’m good.” She moved toward the door, but he stopped her.
“Nicole?” He reached out, taking the bag from her shoulder. She glanced over at him, a question in her eyes. “I know I put my foot in my mouth earlier. I’m sorry.”
She was suddenly blinking away the extra moisture in her eyes. “I could say I’m okay with it, but you hurt my feelings.”
He slung her pack over his shoulder and stepped close, cupping her cheek with one hand. “My lady,” he drawled like the finest courtier, “I will endeavor to never again be so insensitive.” He leaned down and placed his mouth, soft but firm, against hers.
The kiss was gentle, sweet, and too short to her way of thinking. When it ended and they were on their way out the door, all she wanted to do was kiss him again, and again, and again.
Chapter 3
Reece opened the front door, glancing up and down the street before taking Nicole’s hand, leading her out of the house.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, dragging her feet and scanning for the nosy paparazzi.
“What?”
“Should we be seen together? The furor from the last story has barely begun to die down. Why stir it up again?”
He stopped walking. “Do you want to go with me or not?”
“Of course I do, it’s just . . .”
He lifted their entwined fingers to his mouth, lightly kissing her knuckles. “You have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.” He knew they were being watched. He’d seen the camera flashes in his peripheral vision. He was used to his every move being documented and was trying to be extra careful with what he did or didn’t allow the photographers to capture.
He knew what being in the spotlight did to your life and the lives of the people around you. He didn’t want her to suffer unduly because of their association.
Association wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what was growing between them. A budding friendship, a flirtation . . . He would describe them this way, but the paparazzi, which he knew well, could take the most innocent of actions and turn them into something scandalous. And his adoring public would believe it all as if it was the gospel truth.
He led her down the street to the corner where he’d parked his car, a 1985 Toyota Corolla.
Nicole stopped at her first sight of the vehicle. “Dude, with all your money, this is the car you drive?”
Reece held open the passenger side door. “I like to keep things on the down low.”
She snorted. “Yeah, very down low.”
He laughed. “Don’t hate on this car. My mum says I was conceived in it.” He held the passenger door open for her, noticing her silence at his statement.
“Where are we going?” she asked, just before he shut the door.
“I’m not telling you,” he said, walking around the front of the car and getting in the driver’s seat.
“Why not?”
He smirked over at her. “The word surprise means leaving things in the dark until the appropriate moment.”
She stared out the window in sudden apprehension. Why was he being so mysterious? Was she making a huge mistake going off with him?
“Would you like to listen to some music?” he asked, turning on the radio.
She turned back. “Sure. Do you want to listen to anything in particular?”
“No. Find something you like.”
She pressed the seek button, skipping over rock and rap stations. The dial rested a moment on a classical station before being turned again. She finally settled on an easy listening station. “Is this okay?”
Reece looked at the dial. “This station is dedicated to love songs—all love songs, all the time.”
She giggled. “You sound like a commercial.”
“You couldn’t find anything else?”
She pointed at the radio. “I happen to like this stuff. Corny love songs are the best thing to keep me in the right frame of mind.”
“Mmm,” he replied.
“If you want me to change it . . .” She reached for the dial, but he stopped her.
“The song is fine, but I’m not a fan of sappy music.”
She tilted her head toward him. “What is your type of music?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I like a little of everything. I guess it depends on my mood.”
“That’s the way I am, too. When I’m happy, it’s pop; angry, metal; sad, emo. I love classical music, hate rap, and absolutely adore soundtracks.”
He glanced at her, chuckling. “Are your parents children of the eighties too?”
“Absolutely. Any time Dirty Dancing or Grease comes on TV, my mom is glued to the screen, even though she’s seen each one about a billion times. And actual movie musicals—forget about it. I grew up with The Sound of Music, Singing in the Rain, and Oklahoma.”
“What about your dad?”
She shrugged, her mood turning sour. “Typical male stuff: buddy movies, T and A, action, horror . . . not much else.” She crossed her arms. She didn’t want to think about her father just now. Their last argument was still ringing in her ears.
“He’s not big on chick flicks, huh?”
“Nope.” The word came out with a big pop.
“So, you’re telling me if your book was turned into a movie, he wouldn’t go to see it, even to support you?”
She reverted to staring out the window. “I’d like to think he would, but it’s doubtful.”
“Why not? Don’t you think he’d be proud of you?”
“If I were a doctor or a lawyer . . . even if I married a doctor or a lawyer, he’d be proud, but a romance writer?”
“If you’re successful . . .”
“I’m never going to be successful if I don’t sit down to get some actual writing done.”
He glanced over at her in puzzlement. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve been in England for over a week and haven’t accomplished anything? What have you been doing?”
She ducked her head. “There have been too many distractions and interruptions.”
“Such as?”
Nicole continued to study the passing landscape. There was no way she was going to admit to him that he was the biggest distraction of all; all six foot three inches of him. “I’ve already told you this. The press has been hounding me wherever I go. The phone rings constantly. Reporters have been showing up on our doorstop at all hours of the day and night wanting interviews. It’s a wonder I can recall my name, let alone get anything completed on my manuscript.”
He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re making excuses.”
“No. I’m not.”
“You are. You’ve got a laptop. Why don’t you research off the internet?”
“It’s not the same as being there.”
He snorted. “That’s codswallop! You’re procrastinating.”
“I am not.” Her voice raised an octave. How dare he say such a thing?
“You are,” he said, mimicking her tone. “Do you want to become a published author or not?”
He was beginning to annoy her. He had no idea how hard she tried to work on her story every day, but life kept getting in the way. “What are you, my mother?”
He clicked his tongue. “No, I’m trying to be your friend and don’t want to watch you squander your talent.”
“What if I do? It’s not like it matters”
“Of course it matters,” Reece snapped as he slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road, his flashers blinking.
“What are you doing?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder, fearing they were being followed.
He didn’t look at her. “I’m turning around and going back to London.”
“Why? I thought you were taking me away for the weekend.”
He cut his eyes to her for a second and then rolle
d them away. “I’m not going to waste my time trying to help you, if you’re not willing to help yourself. I’ve got other things I could be doing with my time.”
Her jaw dropped. “So why aren’t you then? I didn’t ask you to invade my life and whisk me away to only God knows where.” Wait a minute. Was she really arguing with Reece Collins?
He sat in the driver’s seat, staring out the windshield with his jaw clenched. “Is that how you really feel?”
Nicole looked away, unwanted tears building in her eyes. She bit her lip to keep them from falling. “I don’t know how I feel,” she mumbled.
They were treading into deep water now, and they both knew it. Whatever was building between them was either going to blow full steam ahead or crash and burn; it all depended on the direction he steered the car.
Reece watched her reflection in the glass and the abject misery in her eyes. He had wanted to nudge her in the right direction, not shove her off the damn cliff. He pulled back on the road, still traveling away from London.
Nicole released the breath she’d been holding, leaning her head against the headrest and closing her eyes. Her brain hurt from all the ups and downs today.
“Are you hungry?” he asked quietly, not wishing to startle her. She shook her head but didn’t answer.
He let her be, driving down the winding road. His thoughts were deep and troubled, the music on the radio blending into the background. He thought he caught the sound of an occasional sniffle, but he didn’t want to disturb her if he was wrong.
He hadn’t meant to get so angry. There was no justification for it. One moment they were getting along, laughing and joking, and the next, they were at each other’s throats. What happened to cause the argument?
He thought back on the conversation at least twice but couldn’t pin down the exact element which started the downward spiral. Was it when he accused her of making excuses? Or when he told her that procrastination would be her downfall? Was that what made her so angry?
An Accidental Love Affair Page 4