Home to You

by Robyn Carr

  They wanted her picture as badly as his, and that was an experience she’d never had before. “As ready as I can be. I don’t know how you put up with the loss of privacy.”

  “Part of the territory,” he said. But she knew it bothered him more than he was letting on. She’d heard him make statements about “being hunted.” He might have elaborated, but the restaurant manager darted into their path to thank Simon for his patronage.

  “I hope you found each dish to your liking,” he said, all but bowing in deference.

  Simon gave him a stiff nod. “Everything was delicious.”

  Knowing the man must have noticed that Simon had eaten very little, Gail jumped in. “It was wonderful,” she gushed. “The best!”

  Relieved, he thanked her profusely and begged them to come again.

  “What I said wasn’t enough?” Simon muttered as they moved on.

  Had she irritated him? “He was so...hopeful.”

  “That’s how they all are.”

  The constant attention would get tiresome. She could see that. She could also see that being a celebrity was exhausting. Tonight that was more obvious than ever. Simon could never give enough to the people he encountered because there was only one of him and so many of them. He never got to feel he’d met others’ expectations.

  “There’s no break,” she said as they stepped out of the restaurant and into a sea of flashing lights.

  Gail had told herself she’d smile and hold her head high whenever she encountered the paparazzi, just as she advised her clients to do. Make them think you enjoy it, that you have nothing to hide. After all, what were a few pictures? It was better to pose and get good ones. That was her classic line.

  But because of the crush, there was a much greater sense of urgency than she’d ever seen or experienced before. And acting as if this was an unwelcome surprise was part of the campaign. She turned her face into Simon’s chest to avoid being blinded by the strobelike effect and felt his arm tighten as he sheltered her from the most aggressive of the cameramen.

  “Car’s right here,” he said.

  One of Simon’s bodyguards, who’d been waiting with their driver, had created a path. Relieved to have a safe resort, Gail slipped inside the same limousine that had picked her up at her house. Simon rarely traveled in vehicles like this, unless it was Oscar night, a premiere or some other special event where it was expected, but there hadn’t been any point in holding back on the accoutrements for this date. Tonight he’d planned to dive into the shark-infested pool of celebrity obsession—and he’d taken her with him.

  The silence that met them as soon as the door was shut felt odd, oppressive. But it didn’t last long. The stereo went on, playing classical music, as the driver inched through the crowd, most of whom were still vying for photographs—from the curb, the street, anywhere they might gain advantage.

  “Wow,” Gail breathed. This was what she had to look forward to. Could she keep up the charade?

  She thought Simon might be as talkative on the drive as he’d been in the restaurant, but he didn’t say a word. Back to his laconic self, he stared out the window.

  “So? How do you think it went?” she asked as they glided around the corner like a slow-moving parade float.

  “Good.” His response was clipped, perfunctory. Apparently he’d been acting a lot more than she’d realized. Maybe that vulnerability that appealed to her was part of the character he’d decided to play. She hoped so. It made her too eager to defend him, whether he deserved it or not. She’d always been an “underdog” kind of girl.

  But a movie star of Simon’s caliber and success could hardly be considered an underdog; she had to remember that.

  They merged into traffic, finally leaving the scrambling photographers behind. “I played my part well enough?” she pressed. “It was convincing even though I’m not an actress?”

  He didn’t turn to look at her. “You did fine.”

  “Did it come across as natural when I reached for your hand?”

  This seemed to pull him out of his brooding. “That was smart. It made you appear confident of my feelings for you and suggested that we’re comfortable touching each other.”

  “Great.” Especially since nothing could be further from the truth. Although it was easier to touch Simon in public than anywhere else, even that simple gesture had given her pause.

  “But surprised the hell out of me,” he added.

  “Why?” He’d taken her hand earlier.

  “Because you think I’m the big bad wolf.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re afraid to make even accidental contact.”

  Knowing him the way she did, she should’ve expected his candor. He always said what he thought, regardless of whether it put her on the spot. “I’m not afraid.” She searched for a better way to explain her reaction to him. “I’m just not groveling at your feet, dying to get a piece of you, like most people.” Because she knew how superficial his attention would be, how quickly it would pass. “You should find that...refreshing.”

  The panel between the front and back opened before he could answer. “Boss?”

  Simon’s gaze cut to the rearview mirror and the reflection of his chauffeur’s eyes. “What is it?”

  “Where to?”

  “My place.”

  “Your place?” Gail echoed. “You mean, after you drop me off, right?”

  “We’re being followed,” he said. “Might as well let them think you’re staying the night. We’ve already put this much into it.”

  She twisted around to look behind them. It made sense that the paparazzi who’d staked out the restaurant would want to know where they were going next and follow in hopes of another photo op. She couldn’t pinpoint any specific driver as one of the people she’d seen outside the restaurant, but she hadn’t looked at them as individuals—only as a pack. “Okay, but...won’t they hang around for a while?”

  Simon’s gaze returned to the buildings whipping past them now that they’d picked up speed. “Some of them will probably camp out.”

  “How will I get home without them noticing?”

  “You won’t.” His lips curved into a challenging smile. “I guess you’ll just have to share my bed.”

  Eleven

  Once they got inside the house, away from the photographers’ prying eyes, Gail suggested she sleep in the room next to Simon’s, where they’d each have some privacy. She didn’t want to worry about brushing up against him during the night, and she didn’t see how having her own room in such a big house would hurt. With her hair mussed and her clothes wrinkled, she’d still be able to put on a good show for any media that had the tenacity to wait until morning.

  But he said he had too many domestic workers who might notice and would, no doubt, find the arrangement odd enough to mention to others. So Gail relented. They had to look like lovers, which meant she’d probably be the first woman to spend the night in Simon’s bed without taking off her clothes.

  Actually, she did undress—but in his expansive closet, with the door closed. She borrowed a T-shirt and a pair of boxers so she could at least be comfortable. Then she climbed into bed beside him, propped some pillows behind her back as he’d done and watched an indie film he’d been meaning to vet on his big screen.

  “You’ve got a nice setup here,” she said when the credits began to roll. She was wondering what they’d do next. Even if he could go to sleep, she couldn’t. Ever since they’d closed the door to his bedroom, she’d been trying to pretend that spending time with him was no different from hanging out with any other platonic friend. She and Joshua had shared a hotel room at various PR conventions, hadn’t they?

  But this didn’t feel the same. Besides the obvious difference in Josh’s
and Simon’s sexual orientation, Simon was sitting only a couple feet away from her wearing nothing but his boxers. She’d asked him to put on some pajamas, but he’d given her that look of his, the one that said he’d do as he damn well pleased.

  His stubbornness on that point should’ve bothered her more than it did. She had a long list of complaints about his character, but she couldn’t fault his looks or his sex appeal.

  “It’s not hard to have a nice setup when you’ve got money,” he said, and used the remote to start flipping through channels. “It’s the things you can’t buy that are difficult.”

  Even in the dark, with only the glow of the TV screen to light the room, his bare chest drew her gaze. She knew most women in America would give anything to trade places with her, but all she wanted was to go home. Being here, feeling what she was feeling—it wasn’t good. She was the one who’d insisted on the “no sex” mandate, and yet having sex with Simon was suddenly all she could think about. No doubt he’d been hoping that would be the case when he brought her home.

  “Are you talking about peace of mind? Or personal relationships?” Using all the self-restraint she could muster, she shifted her attention back to the TV.

  “Both.”

  She nodded. “You do need some help in those areas.”

  With a withering glance that said he didn’t appreciate her comment, he switched to the Golf Channel.

  “Golf? Really?”

  “Wow, this is like being married.” He kept surfing, but what he chose next didn’t make her any happier.

  “Oh, this is perfect,” she said. “I’m equally interested in basketball.”

  One dark eyebrow slid up. “It’s SportsCenter. And they’re talking about the Colts. They’re a football team.”

  She hadn’t really been paying attention or she would’ve known that from following Matt’s career. “Whatever. You sure know how to entertain a woman.”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “You’re the one who tied my hands.”

  “Sort of makes you appreciate all those women who’ll put out, doesn’t it?” She manufactured a yawn.

  “Sort of makes me mad you won’t,” he grumbled.

  She couldn’t help laughing at his surliness. Their date tonight hadn’t been bad. As a matter of fact, she’d enjoyed it. Despite some of his comments since, she was beginning to believe they might actually get along. “We could always watch the shopping network.”

  “I’d rather stick a fork in my eye.”

  “But it’s time I started spending your money.”

  “Who says?”

  “Isn’t that what wives of movie stars do?”

  “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you won’t really be my wife.”

  “And you’ve made it clear that I could still have some decent pocket change.”

  He got up. “Fine. I don’t care. Just shop on your own time.”

  She pulled the blankets higher. “Whose time is this?”

  “Mine,” he said without looking back.

  “According to who—you?”

  “It’s part of your contract.” He went into the bathroom and shut the door.

  “I didn’t sign anything that said I had to watch TV with you,” she called after him.

  He poked his head out. “You don’t. You only have to share my bed and pretend to like it. So feel free to roll over and go to sleep.”

  She tried. But she was too aware of every move he made.

  A few minutes later, he was back in bed, surfing stations again. “How long are you going to be up?” she asked.

  “It’s still early.”

  “In which country? Because here it’s after one o’clock.”

  “One more program.”

  “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “But I’m going to sleep.”

  His hair stood up as he raked a hand through it. “Does that mean I can finally watch what I want?”

  “Of course,” she said, and flopped over, but she’d expected him to choose something sports-related, like before. She had no idea he’d settle on a skin flick.

  Male and female moans immediately drew her attention back to the screen, where a woman with obscenely large breasts was having sex with a man whose body parts were equally exaggerated. It was low-budget, down and dirty, but it was effective. Gail hadn’t been with a man in so long, a sight like this couldn’t fail to trigger a deluge of hormones. “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  He blinked innocently at her. “Watching TV.”

  “That’s pornography!”

  “You just said you were going to sleep. I said, ‘Does that mean I can finally watch what I want?’ and you said, ‘Of course.’”

  “But that’s cheating! You’re trying to get me interested.”

  He raised his hands as he shook his head. “Not my plan at all.”

  Then he was after revenge. No doubt he thought it was funny to arouse her, since she was the one who’d taken physical satisfaction off the menu.

  When the woman threw her head back and cried out in ecstasy, Gail felt her face flush. “I don’t want to watch this!”

  “Fine. Then choose something else.” Tossing her the remote, he scooted down and closed his eyes.

  Gail selected a news channel for a few minutes, then a cop show for a brief time, then an old rerun of CHiPs. She’d won that skirmish, she told herself, satisfied that she’d gained control of the remote. But as the minutes lengthened and Simon’s breathing grew regular, she couldn’t help going back to see if the show he’d chosen was still on. And then she couldn’t seem to pull away from it until it was over. By the time she turned off the TV and put the remote on the nightstand, she was far from sleep. As a matter of fact, she was so hot and bothered she wanted to slug Simon.

  “Something wrong?” he asked when she couldn’t get comfortable.

  He hadn’t moved in some time. She’d assumed he was asleep. “No, why?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to watch Here Comes Pussy.”

  She could hear the laughter in his voice and felt a certain amount of embarrassment. “I didn’t really watch it. I was just...surfing around.”

  “Sure you were.”

  He’d caught her and he knew it. “It was your fault!” She threw a pillow at him, which he batted away.

  “You were in charge of the remote.”

  “I told myself not to go back to it, but...”

  “But?” he challenged.

  She stopped searching for an excuse he wouldn’t believe, anyway. “It was sort of fascinating,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  This seemed to startle him. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Damn, you really are straitlaced.” He didn’t sound pleased.

  “And you’re already corrupting me,” she muttered.

  “Just living up to my reputation.” He covered a yawn. “Anyway, if I’d known it was that great, I would’ve watched it with you. What was so fascinating about it?”

  She couldn’t find the words to explain, but having those images on TV while he was lying next to her, all but naked, had been erotic. Which went to show how poor her sex life had been so far. He hadn’t even touched her and it was still the best sexual experience of her life. “It just...was.” Since he’d played the male lead in her fantasy, she decided she’d be much better off to let it go at that.

  “Good to know you have a libido,” he said.

  She shot into a sitting position. “Was that some sort of test?”

  “It was a joke.” He reached out and took hold of her chin so that she had to look him in the eye. “But since it was a little more effective than I expected, I’ll do right by you if you want.”

  She might’ve gone fo
r it. There was a small part of her that was urging her to take what she could get. But he was laughing at her again. She could feel the bed shake with his mirth.

  “You are so bad!” she said.

  Dropping his hand, he sobered instantly. “I know.”

  * * *

  These days, Simon slept only in snatches and giving up alcohol wasn’t making getting through the night any easier. His mouth was dry, his hands felt shaky and he was nauseous. It was nothing for which he needed a doctor; just his body’s way of trying to demand he return to his earlier habits. Maybe it was more of a psychological craving than a physical one. Regardless, he woke up only forty minutes later and couldn’t go back to sleep.

  Shit... He’d hoped by giving himself a bed partner, even one who slept on her own side and wouldn’t let him cross that imaginary line, he’d have better luck, some reason to stay put instead of rambling around the house. But nothing seemed to help. He figured he could take a sleeping pill, but considering his state of mind, he was afraid of where that might lead. He didn’t want to toss away one crutch only to grab another. Ty deserved a better effort than that.

  Rolling over, he scooted toward Gail. He was afraid to get too close for fear she’d think he was making a move. But maybe the steady sound of her breathing and the solidity of her presence would anchor him, somehow ease his insomnia. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend she was Bella and this was before they’d torn each other apart—that Ty was still a baby sleeping in the next room.

  It might’ve worked, but Gail wasn’t asleep.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, slightly embarrassed when he realized she was watching him.

  “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “Not much. Not these days. What are you doing up?”

  “Thinking.”

  He punched his pillow. “Be careful. Don’t do too much of that or it’ll drive you crazy.”

  “Is that what it does to you?”

  “Unless I stop the whole process by dousing my brain with alcohol.”

  “Which you can’t do at the moment.”

  “Or any moment in the next two years.”

  “I’m glad you’re taking that seriously.”