by Noelle Adams
“You caught me in the middle of making my bread,” Vivian said as she bustled back into the kitchen. “Come on in and you can help me knead the dough.”
“Viv, she’s here to see Deck, not make bread,” Harlan said as he opened the fridge and took out a bottle of beer. “Besides, Jane’s a big star. She doesn’t do her own cooking You want a beer?”
“Sure,” Jane said. She wasn’t much of a beer drinker—too many carbs—but maybe the alcohol would take the edge off the tension that had ratcheted up about fifty notches at the prospect of seeing Deck.
Harlan started to offer her a bottle of Budweiser. “Give her the good stuff,” Vivian admonished
Harlan shook his head and put the Bud back and offered her a bottle from a local micro brew, muttering something about Deck and his fancy Hollywood tastes.
Jane took a long swallow of the cold, pleasantly bitter beer.
“Deck’s over at his brother Damon’s—Damon talked him into helping rebuild his deck while he’s here but they’ll be back around supper time,” he said helpfully.
“In the meantime, you can help me knead and get the bread into the oven. Here,” Vivian said and handed her an apron. “I’d hate for you to mess up your outfit, especially since it probably costs more than what Harlan makes in a week at the shop.”
Jane grimaced, conceding that though she was dressed down in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, the shirt was Marc Jacobs and the jeans retailed at over three hundred dollars.
“He’s right,” she said as she slipped the apron over her head. “I don’t really cook. At all. Even before I could afford to hire someone to do it for me.”
Vivian motioned her over, pulled a ball of dough out of the enormous metal bowl and slapped it down on the counter in front of Jane “All you have to do is knead and punch it,” she demonstrated. “That’s it,” she nodded as Jane followed her example. “It’s great for getting your aggression out. Pretend it’s one of those photographers out there.”
Jane smiled and gave the dough a punch, pretending it was a TMZ reporter’s nose.
“See? Very therapeutic,” Vivian said, “and I can say from experience a lot less problematic than a shotgun.”
Jane let out a startled laugh. As the time slipped by while she drank beer, kneaded dough, talked and laughed as Deck’s parents grilled her for information about their favorite actors, she found herself almost wishing that Deck wouldn’t come back. Because she knew when he did he would tell her to leave.
And as long as he stayed away, she could cling to the fantasy that there was still a chance for them. Not only for them to be together, but for Jane to get the unanticipated bonus of becoming part of his family.
***
Deck followed his brother Damon through the door of his parents’ house, intent on a cold beer and a hot shower. He made a beeline for the fridge, grabbed two bottles and gave one to his brother. The TV was off, and there was no one in the kitchen or living room. Which was odd considering it was Saturday and the Bobcats game was on soon and Dad never missed the pregame show.
He exchanged a puzzled look with Damon and followed the sound of voices coming from the back patio. He opened the screen door off the kitchen and started to step through it, but stopped short as a familiar, feminine laugh curled down his spine and through his belly, coming to rest heavily between his thighs.
It can’t be, he thought, barely registering as his brother’s not insubstantial bulk slammed into his back. Even with her back turned away from him, he recognized the slope of her shoulder, the curve of her neck, left exposed with her hair pinned up in a haphazard knot.
And that laugh… from the first time he heard it, that low, throaty chuckle had never failed to pull at something deep inside him, make him feel like all he needed to be happy for the rest of his life was to hear that laugh every day.
There she was, sitting at his parents’ worn plastic picnic table like she belonged there, sipping a bottle of his microbrew and laughing like she didn’t have care in the world. How many times, he wondered, had he fantasized about seeing her exactly like this? Casual, laid back, slipping into his world like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Something surged in his chest. Warmth, hope, happiness, and every cell in his body demanded that he grab her up in his arms and never let her go again.
“What is she doing here?”
Damon’s bemused voice over his shoulder knocked him out of his daze. In a rush, Deck remembered the last time he had spoken to Jane. Her reaction to the story about his mother. Her utter selfishness and lack of sympathy for what the publicity might do to his family.
Jane’s head snapped around at the sound of Damon’s voice. Deck steeled himself against her wide, wary green eyes and tentative smile, even as the sight of her in the flesh was nearly enough to send him to his knees.
“Hey, Deck.”
He couldn’t give in. No matter how much he loved her, he couldn’t ignore the truth. The only reason she could possibly be here was to work an angle for her own benefit. To stage a photo op to show how she could hang with “normal” people, or some shit.
There was no way it was just about him.
His mouth pulled into a tight line and he folded his arms across his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Her smile faded at his harsh tone. She’s probably so used to people falling at her feet and doing her bidding, she thought I’d take one look at her and all would be forgiven, he thought. When hell freezes over.
Still, he felt something pinch in his gut at the sad resolve that chased away the spark in her green eyes.
She stood, wiping her hands nervously on the front of her jeans. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here,” she said and made a sound that sounded like half laugh, half sob. “I didn’t plan to—I just, it suddenly became imperative that I see you and your family. Apologize in person for everything that’s happened.”
Her teeth closed over her lush bottom lip in a way that made him ache to suck it between his own. And the way she twisted her slender hands in knots, her shoulders hunched in defeat, made him want to take pull her close and promise he’d never let anyone hurt her again.
“So you’ve apologized. Now you can go.”
***
Jane felt like her rib cage was cracking wide open as she looked at Deck’s cold, flat stare. There was nothing there, no trace of the heat, the love she’d seen burning in those amber depths just days ago.
“Daniel, I raised you to have better manners than that,” Vivian gasped. “Jane came all this way, and she’s been nothing but sweet. You apologize for being so rude.”
“No, it’s okay. He doesn’t have to apologize.” Jane held up her hand, her mouth pulling into a tight smile like she wasn’t dying inside. You knew this was going to happen. You knew how this was going to go.
Yes, she’d known going in the likely way this was going to turn out. But until this moment she hadn’t realized that buried under all that common sense, an ember of hope had flared to life. That Deck would see her and feel the exact same way at first sight as she felt the second she saw him.
That no matter what happened, he missed her, he loved her, and he’d do anything to be with her. Including forgive her for being such a self-centered bitch.
“I’m the one who’s rude, barging in here unannounced.”
“And probably tipping off the paparazzi that she’s here so they can show her making nice with my poor trashy family,” Deck said snidely.
Pain knifed in her chest so sharply she gasped and clutched her shirt over the spot. “I’m afraid a couple reporters did see me come in. I didn’t think to look for them when I got here,” she replied in a tight voice. “But I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here.” She met Deck’s stony stare with her own, willing him to see the truth.
She pasted a smile on her lips and turned back to Deck’s parents. “It was really lovely to meet you.”
Ignoring Vivian’s protests she started for the screen door,
pausing to offer hand to Deck’s brother. He had a slightly puzzled look on his face, as though he wasn’t sure this was actually happening.
“Goodbye Deck,” she said softly as she passed him. She searched his face, looking for anything, any sign of a crack in his stony exterior.
Nothing.
She stepped inside the house, ignoring the din of voices coming from outside. Blinking back tears, she waited for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the dimness and tried to remember where she put her purse.
She heard the screen door open and shut behind her, and didn’t even have to turn know it was Deck who’d stepped inside. She knew from the scent of him, soap, shaving cream, and his own man smell. She knew from the energy that seemed to crackle off of him and bring every cell of her body to awareness in away no one else ever had.
And no one else ever would.
“I’ll be out of here in just a minute,” she said hating the way her voice shook. She couldn’t fall apart. Not yet. Not in front of him. “I just have to find my bag and call the pilot to get the plane ready. I don’t know if he needs to refuel or what but I feel like I should give him some warning.” She was babbling, she knew, but the nonstop chatter was the only way she could think to prevent herself from bursting into tears.
She circled the kitchen but didn’t see her purse on the counter or the tiny kitchen table where she thought she’d left it. “George—the pilot—he works for the studio so he really didn’t want to deviate from the flight plan. Afraid he’d get fired,” she said, careful to give Deck a wide berth as she darted around him to look on the coffee table in the living room.
“I was supposed to go to Vancouver,” she said, though he didn’t ask, and from the hard look on his face he didn’t look like he cared. “But as soon as I got on the plane, I knew I had to come here.”
“And you always get what you want, right?” he said in a voice that could have ground glass.
“Not always,” she said through the lump in her throat. “But it helped that I offered to pay him double what the studio paid him to fly me up to the set.”
His brow furrowed, the first chink in his impervious demeanor. “You were supposed to start shooting two days ago.”
“Yep, and now the studio is officially very pissed at me.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure Hal can smooth things over for you.”
“I’m sure he could if I hadn’t fired him.” Jane’s gaze darted around the room. She was getting a little desperate now. She couldn’t leave without her purse, and she didn’t know how much longer she could last under the arctic blast of Deck’s stare without crumbling into a humiliated heap at his feet.
He flinched at that. “You fired Hal?”
“And Hailey too, after Malcolm sent me the bank records that showed TMZ paying her nearly a million for leaking the stories and the photos. Thanks for that, by the way.”
His only reply was a curt nod. “You should sue her ass off.”
Jane shrugged. Not long ago she would have felt the same way. Now it didn’t seem worth the energy. “My own fault for trusting the wrong people.”
She paused as a familiar trilling filled the air. It was her phone. She followed the sound to the hall closet. Inside she found her purse, where Vivian must have put it away. She pulled her phone out and gave a mirthless chuckle as she read the text message her business manager had sent her.
“Why is the studio fining you two million dollars?” Deck said from over her shoulder.
“Delaying production They already did all the shooting they can without me, and me being here instead of there is costing them two million a day.”
She tucked her phone back in her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder. This was it, her cue to go. Straightening her spine, she lifted her chin and offered Deck one last smile. “You take care, Deck.”
***
It took Deck several seconds to process everything she’d just told him, and by the time the truth hit him she was already halfway to her car. He sprinted out after her and caught her by the arm just as she was about to step off the curb and cross the street.
She stopped, startled, and seemingly oblivious to the flashes of the photographer who was eagerly documenting the moment.
Deck didn’t waste time on him either, he was too intent on figuring out if what Jane had said really meant what he thought it did. “So you’re telling me you totally blew off the studio to come here, and they’re pissed enough to fine you?”
Jane shrugged. “Like you pointed out, it’s not like I don’t have enough money. It’s not like I can’t cover it. And I needed to see you.”
He felt his head swim as he absorbed that she was willing to write off two million dollars a day to come out here. But that wasn’t what made him feel like something inside him was cracking wide open. That wasn’t what made him slide his hand down her arm to catch her hand in his and tug her closer.
“Stuff like that will get the press going. They’ll say you’re being a flake, unreliable.”
Her breath caught as his fingers tangled with hers and her throat bobbed as she swallowed convulsively. “They probably will. So what.”
“You really mean that?” Deck said, trying to keep the hope at bay, unable to resist its unrelenting force. “You really didn’t think about how all this would play out?”
“I didn’t think about anything but seeing you again, apologizing to you and your family.” Her gaze drifted away from his. “I know it makes me look crazy—honestly, I kind of feel crazy. But I don’t care.” Her eyes drifted back up to his face, and what he saw there made his heart feel like it going to burst out of his ribcage. “I don’t care about anything but you.”
The truth was there, in her big green eyes, in the way her fingers clutched tightly at his. And it was in the way she blurted out, “I love you Deck, and I hate that you and your family were hurt. Nothing matters more than that,” without so much as blinking an eyelash at the reporters standing a foot away, one snapping frantically with his camera while the other captured every second on video.
Still, he needed to be sure. “Then I guess you don’t care that all of this is going to be up on E!‘s home page in about five minutes,” he murmured as he brought his free hand up to cup her cheek and bent his head close to hers.
“Couldn’t care less,” she said, smiling shakily as she rose up on her toes to meet his lips. Heat exploded through him at the first touch, the first taste. And along with it, the gut deep knowledge that this was it, she was it. No matter how crazy her life was and his became by association, he couldn’t escape the fundamental truth that unless he wanted to walk through the rest of his life feeling like he had a gaping hole where his heart should be, he needed her.
“I love you,” he murmured, catching her gasp between his lips as he pulled her even more tightly against him.
“I love you too,” she said shakily. “So much. And I’m sorry I was so selfish and worried about myself. What I have with you is so much more important than any stupid gossip. I’m going to do whatever it takes to show you I mean that.”
Deck lifted his head from hers and gave a reluctant grin to the camera popping inches from their faces. “I think I have all the proof I need.” He bent his head so his mouth brushed her ear and whispered, too quiet for anyone else to hear, “And I’m afraid if I don’t get you somewhere private, in about thirty seconds there’s going to be a sex tape out there that will make Pam and Tommy Lee’s look like a Disney cartoon.”
***
Ten Months Later
What a difference a year makes, Jane thought as she stared at her reflection in the mirror mounted on the far side of the bedroom.
“I can’t believe how gorgeous you look,” Mira raved as she handed Jane the jewelry Neil Lane had sent over for her to wear to tonight’s Golden Globes ceremony.
Jane oohed and ahhed at gems. Rubies, to match the rich crimson of her dress, and diamonds of course to give her a little sparkle.
Gorgeous as th
ey were, they couldn’t hold a candle to the two carat solitaire set in pave encrusted platinum and the matching pave band that encircled the ring finger of her left hand.
“I know your hair, your skin. You barely need me for anything,” Claud, her make-up artist, said with a mocking sigh, “You stay this happy you’re going to put me out of a job.”
“I’ll consider it my mission to make you obsolete.”
Jane smiled at Deck in the mirror as he approached from behind. Just like last year Deck was here to take her to the Globes. But this year she thought with a little thrill, he was going as her husband and date instead of merely her bodyguard.
His perfectly tailored tux emphasized the powerful lines of his shoulders and chest, somehow making him look even more powerful, a warrior ready to shake off the confines of civility.
Just the sight of him was enough to sent a shimmer of warmth through her, and when he came up behind her and pressed his lips into the curve where her shoulder met her neck, that warmth took root deep in her core.
Not that she’d be able to do anything about it for a while, she thought petulantly.
“You look gorgeous,” he whispered against her bare skin making her wish—
“Don’t touch the hair!” Claud said sharply, pulling Jane’s thoughts back from the inappropriate path they were starting on.
Deck shot him a sidelong glare but kept his hand away from the cascade of gold waves tumbling down her left shoulder and slid it around her waist. Well, what was left of it anyway.
She watched his reflected gaze slide down, watched it heat with approval as it took in first the generous amount of cleavage displayed by the dress’s deep v neckline, then the front hem that ended just above her knees to show off her toned calves.
He frowned when he got to her feet. “You can’t wear those shoes.”
Jane turned away from the mirror and looked at him like he was high. “Of course I’m wearing them.”
“Alexander McQueen designed them especially to go with this dress,” Mira chimed in as she gestured at the ruby red pumps with their three inch platforms and six inch heels.