Hollywood Scandal

by Rowe, Julie

  “Your parents must have been very proud of you.” Alex pulled into his garage.

  She looked around, a frown on her face. “I thought we were staying at the hotel.”

  “MacKay found us at the hotel. He’s not going to get into my house so easy.”

  He led her into the house where she stopped to take off her shoes inside the kitchen. He put his briefcase on the floor next to the wall, took off his suit jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The way she watched him made him hungry for something other than food.

  She met his gaze with a blush. So, he wasn’t the only one suffering from intense attraction.

  He pulled open the fridge and took out a package of steak. “You can judge for yourself.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Nope.”

  He glanced at her with a frown. “When was the last time you took some time off, went on a vacation?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Years, I guess. Ever since my parents died and my brother was injured.”

  “Then it’s long overdue. Would you like some wine?”

  She smiled. “I think I’m in heaven.”

  “My wine cabinet is on the other side of the island.”

  She hopped off her chair and opened the small cabinet. “Do you have a preference?”

  Alex glanced over at Calla’s butt, a perfectly curved creation he’d love to get his hands on. “Whatever you’re having.”

  She chose a bottle and held it up for inspection.

  A red cabernet sauvignon.

  “Perfect.”

  She looked relaxed and happy, a condition he was determined to see her in more often. “Would you mind pouring for both of us? There are glasses in the cupboard next to the wine cabinet.”

  “Not at all.” She pulled out two glasses and poured the wine.

  Alex took his and saluted her with it.

  She sipped hers and closed her eyes. “Very nice.”

  Calla settled on her stool and observed as he set up the grill on the stove, then added the steaks.

  She watched him like he was on the menu and she was starving, and it was making him sweat. If she didn’t tone it down, he was going to offer her something quite different than steaks. If he was reading her wrong, he was going to have a problem. One he might have to take care of all by himself. God, he hoped not.

  “Are you sure I can’t help?” She asked.

  “Absolutely certain.” He glanced at her. “How do you feel about grilled corn on the cob?”

  “I’ve never had it.”

  He couldn’t keep a grin off his face. “I think you’ll enjoy this.” He reached into his refrigerator and pulled out a couple of ears of corn with husks intact. He placed them right on the grill as is.

  She looked at them like they were alive. “Won’t they catch fire?”

  “Not likely, they’re too moist. Grilling them in the husk is the best way to cook them in my humble opinion.”

  She sat and watched him for a few minutes, the silence between them as comfortable as talking.

  The doorbell rang.

  Alex turned down the heat on the stove then went to answer it. He came back a few moments later with a bouquet of pale pink roses and set them down on the kitchen table. “They’re for you.”

  “Again?” This was getting odd. “Who delivered them?”

  Alex shrugged. “Some dude.”

  “Did he say who bought them?”

  “No, he was just the delivery guy.”

  Alex handed her the card from the bouquet.

  She read it silently as he went back to work on the food.

  “Everything okay?” Alex asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You look worried. Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know.” She frowned. “This is the third time I’ve gotten flowers from an anonymous person. He doesn’t sign the cards, yet he writes very personal messages, and always what I needed to hear. I think it’s Dr. Lazarus. I sent him a card in return. I guess he’s keeping up on what’s going on with Helen.”

  “Sounds a little creepy to me.” He needed to tell her he was the one sending the damn flowers, but now wasn’t the time. For them to make this relationship work, and for MacKay to go away, they needed to be a team.

  He wasn’t going to do anything to upset her, even though he wanted to tell her he was her secret admirer. Somehow, his feelings went from admiration and liking to emotions that ran much deeper, and he didn’t know how she was going to receive that bit of news. He’d find a time to tell her when so much wasn’t riding on their every move, word, and expression.

  Besides, he needed to find a way to show her he could come up with all that poetry. At the moment she thought him too macho or something.

  “That’s because you’re a guy. It’s actually very sweet.”

  “Well, let’s hear it, then.”

  “Thanks are often too few. Please know that your work and your kindness are appreciated by many. May the beauty of these blooms bring you as much pleasure as your beauty brings to those around you.”

  “You still think it’s Dr. Lazarus?”

  “I hope so, I sent the man a thank you for the flowers.” She poured more wine into her glass and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be horrified if it’s Jeff MacKay.”

  He hid a wince. She wasn’t going to be happy when she found out it was him. “I don’t think MacKay could come up with his own prose. Not something as kind as that. Try not to worry too much. Jeff MacKay would never think to send flowers anonymously. He’s too narcissistic.”

  “I suppose.” She shook her head and downed some more wine. “Right now you’re the only man I trust outside of my brother.”

  He hadn’t lied, repeatedly, like this for years. And now she tells him she trusts him. He was going to go to hell for sure.

  As soon as MacKay was dealt with, he’d sit her down and explain his deception. That way, if she wanted to scream at him, punch him, or take a tire iron to his car, she could do so without the press taking pictures of it all. He made himself smile. “Excellent.” He turned the corn on the grill, because if she saw his face, she’d know something wasn’t right.

  “Oh God, I just remembered.” She took an extra big gulp of wine. “I have no car.”

  “Don’t panic. I’ve got it covered.”

  “You do?” she asked, letting her forehead rest on the cool granite countertop.

  “I’m going to act as your chauffeur until your car is back on its tires again.”

  Her head came up. “Alex, you don’t have time for that.”

  “Who says I don’t?”

  “I do. You’re a practicing lawyer with a thriving business if this house is any evidence.”

  “So?”

  “So, I won’t allow you to let your other clients down. Especially since I’m not paying you in actual money.”

  “Calla, I’m a big boy,” he said seriously. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know. I don’t want to cause you anymore trouble than I’ve already caused.”

  “You’re not causing trouble. That idiot MacKay is.”

  He moved from the stove to grab two plates and began dishing up the food. “Grab some cutlery from the drawer over there and join me at the table.”

  She did and sat down next to him at a small bistro-sized table at the far corner of the kitchen. She took a bite of steak and closed her eyes.

  “This is wonderful,” she said on a sigh.

  “Thank you.” He nudged her shoulder with his playfully and said, “Try the corn.”

  They ate and talked about wine and food and restaurants. He poured them both another glass of wine and led the way to a large living room. It was furnished with butter-soft leather chairs and couches in a rich brown, with a few throw pillows added for color.

  “Did you decorate this yourself?” Calla asked, settling herself in the opposite corner of the couch he was sitting on.

  Having her that close,
relaxed and content, gave his hands naughty ideas. “My grandmother picked out most of it. If she hadn’t been a movie star I think she would’ve been a decorator.”

  “I like your grandmother. She surprised me.”

  Hardly anyone used the word surprise when talking about his grandmother, at least not in a good way. “Surprised you how?”

  “I’d heard she wasn’t very approachable, but I found the opposite. She was funny, curious, and she obviously loves you very much.”

  “Obviously?” Why did hearing the L word out of Calla’s mouth make him sweat?

  “She’s quite protective of you, Alex. She made a point of finding out my opinion of your job and how you conduct yourself when your attention was elsewhere.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “The same thing I’ve told everyone else who brings it up. I like you. I like the way you operate.” She sipped her wine. “It really irritates me when people criticize you for being honest.”

  She liked his honesty? “Why?”

  “Because it’s part of who you are, a person you’re comfortable with. Most of the time, I see people who don’t like themselves, so they seek to change or alter their appearance, which is an insidious sort of lie. Reshaping their nose or chin or lips is the easy way, but it doesn’t really work.”

  “No?”

  “No. The only changes that matter are the ones we make on the inside.” She pointed to her chest. “And those kinds of changes take time and a lot of hard work. You can’t cheat and have someone cut it out or paste something over it.”

  “You’re not what I expected, either,” he said, letting his gaze linger on her curves and expressive face. Should he tell her he wanted to spend hours naked with her so he could run his hands over every inch of her skin? Discover every pleasure point and place that incited her lust? “When I first met you, I thought you were just one more, shallow, money-hungry doctor who panders to the whims of celebrities and the rich. You’re not that person at all.”

  “I need money, you know that, but I don’t pander to anyone.”

  “No, you don’t. You champion the helpless and lost causes. You give more of yourself to others than anyone I’ve ever met. You don’t hesitate to tell someone they’re stupid when that’s what they are.” Watching her do it was damn near erotic. Alex raised his glass. “A toast to you.”

  She mirrored his move.

  “I think you’re a little crazy, Dr. Roberts, but I like it.” Boy did he have it bad. He wanted her, but he should pull any thoughts on having her right out of his head. Despite the image they were portraying to the world, she wasn’t his girlfriend—she was his client. The line between the two was one he never wanted to cross again.

  …

  The expression on Alex’s face, a full-blown, no-holds barred, sexy smile, transformed him into the most attractive man Calla had seen in years. It hit her in the pit of her belly like a hot branding iron. “I like you, too,” she said, staring at his mouth.

  His only response was the surprised lift of his eyebrows.

  She put her glass of wine on the coffee table next to the couch, then took his glass from him and set it down, too. “Notice I didn’t say the other L word. Once burned was enough for me, but you’re the first man since my ex-fiancé walked out that I trust enough to want to…”

  She scooted closer, leaned forward, and when he didn’t back away, kissed him.

  “I like you a lot,” she whispered against his lips. Her mouth clung to his and the heat in her belly spread like a wildfire through her.

  “I like you, too, but maybe we shouldn’t—”

  She kissed him again. She didn’t want to hear maybes or shouldn’ts, she wanted to feel special and wanted. She was so tired of being alone, of not having someone to hold her.

  But… Damn it, if he didn’t want her she should be running for the front door, not trying to seduce him.

  She pulled away abruptly. “I’m sorry.” Standing, she moved a couple of feet away from the couch, her arms around her middle. “I think I had too much wine.”

  Looking him in the eye wasn’t possible.

  Her feet were moving toward the front door before she could think of anything else to say. What was there to say? He had rejected her in the nicest way possible, yet she went ahead and kissed him again. What kind of woman does that?

  Desperate and dumb, that’s what kind.

  Chapter Twelve

  She shoved the front door open and stumbled outside, only to discover that it was pitch black and she had no idea where she was. She plopped herself down on the step, pulled her knees up, rested her crossed arms on them, and stared out at the street lights that were distant enough not to make a difference in the darkness.

  “Hey.”

  Her shoulders tensed up as Alex sat down next to her.

  “Hey.” The rest of the words she wanted to say got stuck in her throat. She cleared it, but still came close to chewing on the next few words. “I should call a cab and go home. What’s the address?”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, and her stomach tightened up so much she thought she might throw up.

  “Don’t go.” He didn’t say anything else.

  She might as well paint a giant L on her forehead. “Why not?”

  “I didn’t mean to stop you.”

  A bark of laughter almost had her choking, and she put her head down on her arms. “Lie.”

  “No, no really. I just wanted to slow down, to make sure you really wanted to… I didn’t want you to have regrets later.”

  She turned her head so she could see him. “You think I’m too drunk to make an informed decision?”

  “From a glass and a half of wine?”

  She lifted her head and gave him her full attention. “Do you…want me?”

  He met her gaze squarely. “Yes.”

  God, she felt ridiculous. “I’m not usually like this. I’ve never taken the initiative before.”

  “Then I’m even more sorry for stopping you.”

  “You were right to.”

  “Was I? Because right now I feel like an idiot. What man stops a beautiful woman from kissing him?”

  “I think there’s only one kind of man. A gentleman.”

  “A gentleman, huh?” He leaned over, caught her chin with one hand, and angled her face toward him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his head.

  By the time his lips touched hers she was breathing fast, her hands clutching his shirt, mouth eager to rediscover the drugging pleasure of his kiss.

  Their mouths touched, gently, softly, and with the tenderness of a man confident enough to take the time to be sure of his welcome.

  She followed when he retreated slightly, running her tongue along his bottom lip. All tentativeness in him disappeared as he took over the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, his teeth nipping at her. By the time he pulled away, they were both breathing fast.

  His voice took on a deep, dark quality as he said, “I’ve been called many things, but never that.”

  “Really, well now I’m curious,” she said on a happy laugh. “What else do people call you?”

  “In school I was known as Beak. I’ve also been called Big Bird, Big Mouth, and Honest Abe—none of which were compliments.”

  Though the name-calling was years before, she could see the hurt the memory caused him in the tightening of the corner of his eyes. The possibility of pain was very real for both of them in the here and now. “I know my staying here is a good idea legally, but emotionally I’m really, really confused.”

  He studied her for several moments, then asked, “What do you want?”

  The answer was an easy one. Saying it out loud was hard. “You.”

  He stared at her, tiny frown lines appearing on his forehead.

  Calla gathered up every scrap of courage she could find inside herself and asked, “May I speak bluntly?”

  “Please.”

  Her heart hammering in her ears, she threw cautio
n as far away as she could. “I find you very attractive.”

  His frown lines dug in deeper.

  “Look, beauty isn’t only skin deep. I should know, it’s my job to know. You’ve got everything I want in a man and a few things I didn’t know about until…”

  “Until what?”

  “Until you kissed me.” She shivered. “Your lips are…amazing. They make me want to rip my clothes off and your clothes off and do hot, sweaty things to you.” Her laugh was shaky as she hands ran up and down her arms. “Just thinking about it is making me want to kiss you again.”

  He cleared his throat. “Will I sound like a moron if I say the feeling is mutual?”

  “That would be a relief.”

  “Come inside with me.” He stood and held out his hand to her. “Please.”

  She put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. Inside the house, Alex led her upstairs to a large, masculine bedroom. No time to process the décor or anything else, because he pulled her close and kissed her.

  This wasn’t one of those tentative touches. It was serious, deep, and for her. Only her. His lips showed her things about herself she’d never known before. How fast her heart could beat, how boneless the right man’s kiss could make her, how much she could want his touch.

  His hands pressed her to him, one behind her head, the other at the small of her back as he took her mouth the way she prayed he’d take her body. His teeth nibbled and nipped at her lips, her jaw, her neck, and her earlobe.

  She shivered and groaned, clutching him closer. Her hands spanned his wide shoulders and she petted the lean muscle. She wanted to stroke all of him.

  He hummed under his breath and pulled away long enough to unbutton a couple of buttons and pull the shirt over his head.

  She did the same, then unhooked her bra and let it slide down her arms.

  He stared at her breasts, and then his hands came up and cradled them, his thumbs teasing the nipples.

  “So beautiful.”

  “When you say it, I actually believe you.”

  “That’s because I don’t lie.”

  “Look at all this muscle,” she said as she stroked his well-developed chest and abs. He was beautifully formed. A mouthwatering specimen of male perfection.