Catch a Falling Star (In Love in the Limelight Book 3)

by Geralyn Corcillo

  “Please,” she said again. “I know how the media circus works. I know what I'm doing.”

  He looked bleak then, and sort of sad. “You have no idea.”

  Wendy's heart stuttered. What did he mean? Was he saying she was doing something bad to him? And suddenly she remembered that in her publicity stunt with Arlen, she'd stepped into a wasps' nest she knew nothing about. Her lack of understanding had almost destroyed Arlen. “I—” But her voice trickled out as a whisper. “Colin, if I've wrecked something for you, if I've hurt you, I can undo all this.”

  “No, you can't, actually. The damage has been done.”

  Damage? What was he talking about? “Colin,” she rasped. “Colin, what did I—”

  But Colin cut her off. “I'll help you, Wendy. I won't rat you out.”

  “Colin. No. Not if—”

  But Colin had morphed into Coach Scott, directing the conversation away from his secrets. “I'll do it. We're engaged. Fake-engaged. Done.”

  Wendy took one look at Colin's guarded scowl and nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

  Colin didn't say anything.

  Finally, Wendy stood up. “Well.”

  Colin looked up at her. “Well, what? Uh, do you want some breakfast? Coffee?”

  “What? No! I have to take off.”

  “Take off?” Colin sprang up from where he was sitting, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “You can't. Not now that we're fake-engaged.”

  “I can't stay here. I can't even be seen here. I'll sneak off. If your players disperse with some spectacle, let's call it, I can sneak back out.”

  “You're leaving? You drag a load of mines into my galaxy and now you hyperdrive back to yours?”

  “Colin, you are the stoic fiancé. Just smile and ignore everybody. You can come to the Emmys with me in a few months—”

  “Whoa!” Colin put up both hands. “Let me get this straight. You didn't really come here to explain. Or even to ask me to go along with you and all your lies. You really showed up here to inform me of the strategy you've already figured out.”

  “Colin, I know what I'm doing.”

  “No, you don't! You just told me you're in survival mode.”

  “And I am pretty darn good at surviving,” she said. “Let me handle this. Unless you can't cope with a strong woman in charge.”

  “Seriously?” He practically snorted out a laugh. “You've met Lola and Charlotte, right?”

  “Well,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “You need to step back because I am better at this than you are.”

  “Better at what? My life? Because that's what you're fucking with.”

  “You said you'd help!”

  Colin opened his mouth to yell at her, but then his shoulders slumped, just a fraction. In defeat. “Fine,” he snapped. “We fake it, your way. Now go put your disguise back on so you can get out of my real life ASAP.”

  Wendy grabbed her bag off the kitchen table and dashed back into the bathroom, reminding herself the whole way that this was exactly what she wanted—a hasty exit after securing Colin's help.

  She was just sliding one rubber plate along her top gum when she heard the front door open and close. And then she heard … nothing.

  A hush. The reporters had gotten quiet.

  “Son of a—!” Wendy bolted out of the bathroom with the velocity of a bullet.

  “Andre.” Colin stood at the top of the porch stairs and called across the patch of front lawn.

  The team captain turned around and looked at him, his young face and too-ancient eyes giving away nothing. “Coach.”

  In that one word, Colin heard the kid's fierce combination of command, resolve, and a quick readiness for whatever came next.

  Perfect.

  His players had done this on their own, bless 'em, but they were all set to take orders. “Part the formation to give the media a good view. I have a statement to make.”

  The reporters and TV personalities with microphones started shuffling and jimmying to push forward.

  “Hey!” Colin's voice got everyone to freeze. “Calm DOWN. Unless you are one of my players, you do not come any closer. And you do not dare touch one of these kids with even so much as the edge of your sleeve.”

  Everyone settled, seeming genuinely chastised.

  “Andre.” Colin gave the go-ahead, and the boys moved into the yard toward the edges, giving the reporters an unobstructed view of Colin.

  “Okay,” Colin said, smiling to the crowd. “That's better. No need to panic. Wendy and I aren't going to disappear like a puff of smoke.”

  “Wendy and you?” a reporter called.

  Colin focused on the voice that'd thrown the question his way. Mark Stephens, sportswriter from the Tribune.

  “Mark,” he acknowledged.

  “Wendy and you, Coach? Are you saying that she's here?”

  Colin let his smile unfurl, just the tiniest bit. “She's here,” Colin assured him. “She'll be here for the next three weeks while her show is still on summer hiatus.”

  As the buzz from the crowd escalated, the boys tried to stay redoubtable even as their eyes were popping out of their heads.

  Becks Astie stepped forward, holding her mic from Channel 5 Action News. “She's hidden way?” Becks asked. “In your house? Right now?”

  “She's been hidden away, in my house, several times over the past few months. But with the statement she made in Los Angeles last night, all that's changed. We don't have to hide anymore. Wendy's here to, well, to meet my life. Come to practices with me, meet my players, go to all my favorite hangouts with me. She'll live my life with me for the next three weeks.”

  “Live your life with you,” Becks called. “Is Wendy moving here? Will you both live here after the wedding? Is the wedding going to be here in Rocheforte?”

  Squeeeeek.

  Right on cue. Right on fucking cue. Thank Christ. The wedding? A wedding in Rocheforte?

  Colin turned a fraction towards the front door as Wendy made her grand entrance. The smile he forced to reach all the way to his crinkled eyes almost dropped right off his face when he saw her. Wendy looked like Wendy … but … holy hell, it was as if she'd just tumbled right out of his bed.

  Cameras flashed as she stepped into view. Her hair was just unkempt enough for her to look sensual beyond belief. Her tiny bare feet peeked out from her jeans cuffs … and … she'd changed her shirt. She greeted the circus engulfed in one of his Rocheforte High T-shirts. Holy mother of God.

  And his feet were bare, too.

  Chapter 13

  ANDRE

  Coach is gay. My God, Coach is gay. He must be. Oh, my God, he must be. Coach is gay.

  I'm trying not to let even a flicker of anything show in my face or in my eyes. You can tell a lot by looking in someone's eyes, and I don't wanna give away Coach's secret. Coach is gay. It's the only explanation. Coach comes on to his front porch and tells the world Wendy Hunter is in his house? Tells the world they've been sneaking around fuckin' for months?

  I believed Wendy Hunter last night when she said she loved Coach but that Coach didn't want anyone to know. That's Coach. Always talking about respect and dignity.

  But now? Wendy Hunter walks onto Coach's porch sportin' the most obvious JFL on the planet? That's not Coach. That's not real.

  Wendy must be gay, too. That must be why they're doing this. But why'd she pick Coach? Aren't there, like, tons of gay dudes in Hollywood?

  Chapter 14

  THE STORY OF WENDY AND COLIN

  Wendy stepped onto the porch and closed the screen door with a definite click. She was giving everyone time to see her, to take their pictures. She never looked like this for the media. EVER. Un-adorned. Un-combed. Un-made-up.

  Undone.

  It could be career suicide in a different situation. And she had no doubt enough people would take potshots at her for this. But she needed to be convincing. And running upstairs to ransack her way into one of Colin's shirts had been flippin' geni
us.

  She knew what she needed to do. She needed to turn away from the cameras and look at Colin, connect with him in that scintillating way that would make social media light up with snaps of her and him. Together. Kismet. Give them all what they wanted so desperately—Wendy Hunter, star of so many love stories, melting in the middle of her own love story.

  She would eviscerate Colin later.

  She looked down, demurely. Then she looked up from under her lashes, aiming her molten gaze right at Colin.

  But ...

  Wendy's breath caught and her pulse started thumping in her neck. The way Colin was looking at her when her eyes found his made her … uh … wait … what's happening?

  He smiled at her then, slicing right into her heart. The barest movement of his hand, a come hither gesture, as if he were waiting for her, as if he needed her by his side, and she was gliding across the porch and into his wingspan. As he tucked her against his side, their eyes never broke contact. She wanted to kiss him. But he resisted, and she could barely stand it.

  When he tore his eyes away and turned to the crowd, Wendy remembered who she was and what she needed to do.

  “Hi everyone,” she greeted, smiling to them as though she had missed them oh so much. She slid her crinkly warm gaze to the football players on the lawn. “Guys,” she said, her voice humming with secret adoration for everyone of them, her appreciation palpable. “I'll be seeing you all later.” She smiled at them then, making them feel as singled-out and as special as she could.

  And good gracious, the way they smiled back at her! Except the tall kid. The really tall one Colin had called Andre. He just looked confused. And he should, right? This was all so weird!

  “Everyone,” she said again, focusing on the reporters. She tried to tamp down a surge of delight that none of the California paparazzi had made it to Rocheforte yet. She was one up on all of them, dealing with local reporters. Small town media. She waved to them all. “I'm wrecked after flying all night. Colin and I aren't ready to announce any plans yet. We're just crazy happy to be together whenever we can swing it. But we'll keep you posted.”

  “But what about a ring?” Becks Astie called. “You're engaged, but I notice there's no ring. Where's the ring?”

  Wendy kept her smile bright even as the pod of reporters started murmuring their excitement about The Ring. She laughed as sweetly as wind chimes on the breeze as she leaned into Colin. But what was she going to say?

  “It's simple,” Colin announced, kissing her on the head. “I'm—”

  “He's going to make me one!” And Wendy gave a little hop of glee. “Isn't it too exciting?”

  “Make you one,” one of the reporters echoed. “You mean, like, out of scrap metal? Or wood?”

  Wendy managed to turn her hysterical giggle into another trill of laughter. “No, I mean he's going to design it himself. Nobody knows this, but Colin loves to design jewelry. It's how he relaxes.”

  Wendy braced herself for a pinch or a poke from Colin, but he just pulled her closer. “It's true,” he said, smiling like a goofball as he squeezed her shoulders. “But Wendy is so into Hello Kitty that is a challenge getting the whiskers just right. And I still haven't decided on the best stones for the bow.”

  And the front sidewalk erupted with queries.

  “Really, Wendy?”

  “You're going to have a Hello Kitty engagement ring?”

  “Coach, can you post your designs online?”

  “Has Wendy worn your jewelry designs before, Coach?”

  Wendy turned to Colin and looked at him with a cutesy-fake-mad face. “Colin ...” She turned to the crowd, smiling her million-watt smile. “This guy is such a joker. He's designing the ring to look like my favorite flower.”

  Becks Astie piped up. “And which flower is that?”

  “Why, the magnolia, of course.”

  The crowd bubbled over with elation and Mark Stephens shouted a question above the fizzy commotion. “The Louisiana state flower, Wendy? Has it become your favorite since meeting Coach?”

  She pulled Colin's arm around her as she moved into the center of his body. Then she ran her fingers along his other arm as he hugged her from behind. Man, he was good at all the lovey-dovey pretending.

  “It's how we met,” she cooed. “I was wearing a magnolia in my hair the day of the wedding. Colin noticed it, came over to me … and that's how it all began.”

  “So, how's the magnolia ring coming along, Coach?”

  “What stones are you going to use?”

  “Do you know any other coaches or players who like to design jewelry? Or do other crafts?”

  “Do you think it's important for all male athletes to get in touch with their feminine side?”

  “What about Super Bowl rings? Do you dream of designing those?”

  “Wendy's ring first,” Colin said, tucking her more snugly into him and kissing her cheek, making the cameras go wild.

  “Thank you for coming, everyone,” Wendy called, as if wrapping up an event she'd invited them all to. “But I've been flying all night. I need a major nap.”

  Laughter. Smiles.

  Gosh, these people were nice compared to the barracudas she usually dealt with. She wanted to take them all to lunch.

  “I'll be seeing you,” she said, turning toward the door, but Colin still held onto her and would let her go only so far.

  “Thanks,” Colin called to the media, like an absolute natural. “And Andre, take all the players down to Sammy Jo's, breakfast on me. All you can eat. We'll talk later.”

  Then he turned with Wendy and went back into the house.

  The second he closed the front door behind them, Colin thrust Wendy away from his side as she launched herself off him. The combination of momentum sent her clear across the front hall. Damn, she was tiny. But like a dart, not a feather.

  “I DESIGN JEWELRY TO RELAX?”

  “It was the first thing I could think of,” she shouted back as she turned to face him. “Give me a break! I thought it was pretty good, considering I've been up all night.”

  “Pretty good?” Colin felt ready to tear his hair out. “I'm suddenly a jewelry-designing coach with a Hollywood fiancée and I'm a shoo-in to do the rings for next year's Super Bowl! Wendy, if you're so damn tired and fuzzy-headed, why didn't you just let me say what I was going to say?”

  “Let YOU field the questions from those vultures? Yeah, like I want the industry and all my fans to know you gave me your class ring to wear forever. Was your plan that I'd wrap yarn around it to make it fit or wear it around my neck?”

  Colin pulled back. “I wasn't going to say that.”

  “Really? What incredibly embarrassing thing were you going to say?”

  “That I was giving you my Gramma's ring but it's getting re-sized.”

  “Oh.” Then she gave her head a little shake and stepped back from him as she crossed her arms. “Okay, but I couldn't risk letting you take the lead.”

  “Wendy,” he thundered. “This is NOT going to work if I'm just supposed to shut up and act like your airhead boy toy. I still have to live my life. And coming off as your pussy-whipped worker bee would be disastrous for me.”

  “So you want me to just let you say whatever comes into your head? Like I'm staying here for three weeks?” She marched right up to him. “ I cannot stay here for three weeks!”

  He angled his head toward the front door. “Okay. Go tell them that.”

  “Rrrrr! How dare you talk to them about me in the first place?”

  “You are smart enough to realize how ridiculous and hypocritical that sounds.” Colin turned back to lock the front door.

  Wendy lifted her chin and stood her ground. “Colin, I can't take three weeks off.”

  “This isn't a vacation. You have a lot of work to do, convincing everyone in my life that you're no sort of threat. Now stop whining about it and make it work.”

  “Do NOT talk to me like I am one of your football players.”


  “I'm not. I'm talking to you like you're my selfish bitch fake fiancée who deserves some payback.”

  “I do not deserve payback. I was trying to do the right thing by three kids. That's all. And now I'm supposed to—to—”

  Colin took a step towards her, closing the distance between them so they stood inches apart. “To be my girl. For three weeks. While the world watches.”

  He could see her start to huff and puff, and he had no idea whether she was going to deck him or—

  “You total creep! You want me to stay here, with you, for three weeks. And what? You expect me to hop right into your bed?”

  “Whoa! Jesus, Wendy, back up.” And Colin quite literally backed away from her. “I never said anything about what we do when no one's watching.” He met her eyes. “That is completely up to you.”

  “Completely up to me?” she tossed back. “And you'll fall in line with whatever I decide? No pressure? You don't want me even one little tiny bit?”

  Colin threw back his head and laughed. “Don't want you? Of course I don't want you. You're rich and spoiled and clueless and no matter how good you think your intentions are, your plans end up in chaos. You're tiny and skinny and bony and liable to break in two if I ever really got a hold of you for more than an hour. So no,” he said, “I don't want you.”

  Her gaze didn't flicker. “Must be nice,” she said softly. “To not want somebody who's no good for you. Done and done.”

  That caught Colin off guard and he couldn't remember what he'd been about to say. “Uh … yeah. No, I don't.” He took a step closer. “I don't. Except when …” He took another step closer and ran a hand up her neck into her hair. “Except … this.”

  He leaned down to kiss her, and the second he got close enough, she was arching herself into him and kissing him with such fiery intensity that he almost passed out.

  He wrapped his arms around her as she plastered herself to him. God, she just … fit.

  “Colin,” she gasped, pulling away and catching her breath. “We can't let this get complicated.”

  He nuzzled her neck with kisses and bites. “It's already complicated. This is just making it really, really enjoyable.”