Hollywood Scandal

by Louise Bay

  I should step back but it was almost as if I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say you stepped out on your girlfriend with me.”

  His fingers found mine, linking our hands so our palms were touching. “You know she’s not my girlfriend, right? I can call her if you like, and she’ll tell you herself.”

  I didn’t shrug him off even though I knew I should. I needed to avoid the storm, not step right into it. “You’d call her right now?” Was he saying what he thought he had to in order to get a repeat performance from me?

  “Sure, she wouldn’t mind one bit. I’ve had dinner with her and her fiancé. He’s a good guy too.”

  He dipped his face to mine. “You want me to?” He released my hand and took his cell from his pocket.

  I hesitated, so he swiped the screen and began to tap. Then he put the phone to his ear and smiled at me. My knees fizzed under his gaze, and he let go of my other hand and pulled me tight against him. Instinctively, I pressed my palm to his upper arm to steady myself and as I touched him, memories of the night before last flooded through me. It had been so good. He’d seemed to know my body better than I did.

  “Audrey, hey. I have a rather odd favor to ask you. I’m interested in a girl in Maine that I met. But she thinks we’re dating—” He paused and smiled. “Exactly. We’re very convincing. Especially as we’re hardly ever seen together. Anyway. I guess that’s Hollywood.” He nodded. “Sure, I’ll put her on.”

  My stomach flipped as he handed me the phone. “Hi,” I said as I held the cell to my ear.

  “Hey, Matt didn’t give me your name, but I’m Audrey Tanner.” I’d watched at least two of her movies, courtesy of Ruby, and it was either her or the best impressionist I’d ever heard. “Please don’t tell anyone, but Matt and I haven’t so much as kissed. I’ve been in love with my high school boyfriend since I was seventeen.”

  How on earth was I meant to react? “I appreciate you taking the time to—”

  “And while we’re sharing secrets, Matt has never asked me to talk to a girl he’s interested in.”

  I pressed my lips together to stop myself from smiling.

  “Right,” I replied.

  “He’s a nice guy. Mainly. I think.”

  I let out a burst of laughter.

  “Well, you know. For someone that good-looking,” she said. “I imagine there are women around who think differently. He had a bad reputation back there for a while. But I don’t think that’s who he is. Not really.”

  I stared into Matt’s blue eyes, then down to his full lips. He was too handsome. Like the man factory had made a mistake and put too much good-looking in the mixture. Some other guy had probably lost out as a result.

  His palm flattened against my back and pulled me close. He began to grow and twitch against my belly. It would be so easy to give in to him right now.

  “Thank you, Audrey. Congratulations on your engagement.”

  “Oh, you can’t tell anyone.” She sounded genuinely scared.

  “Of course, I won’t.”

  “If the press finds out, I’ll be crucified in the tabloids for cheating on Matt. You know the women always come off looking like sluts.”

  “I promise I won’t say a word.”

  “Girl to girl, I’m trusting you.”

  I nodded. “Thank you for talking to me.”

  “No problem, good luck with him.”

  I handed Matt his phone, then he and Audrey said their goodbyes and he hung up.

  I braced my hands on his arms. “You need to let me go.”

  “That’s the last thing I should be doing.” He glanced at my chest as I inhaled.

  “I’m serious,” I said.

  “You know that I’m not lying about Audrey,” he said, his grip loosening. “So I don’t understand.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean—you know.” I gestured between our bodies. As much as the sex had been incredible, and he felt so good, I knew that Audrey was right, he was too good-looking. Not to mention famous and bound to attract attention wherever he went. That was a whole pot of crazy I didn’t want to dive into.

  “You don’t want me to fuck you again?” His grin told me he was confident about his skills in the bedroom.

  I rolled my eyes.

  He bent and whispered into my ear. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t the night of your life.” He dropped a kiss on my jaw. “You were perfect.” He kissed me again. “We were fucking phenomenal.”

  I pushed at his chest and he released me, holding up his hands. I didn’t move away. “The sex was …” Better than I’d ever thought possible? “Fine,” I finished.

  “Okay,” he said, nodding as he grinned. “It was fine.”

  “But I’m not here for you to pick up and put down whenever your schedule allows. I’m busy. I have a life. And just because you want something, doesn’t mean you get to have it.” As much as the sex had been phenomenal, I didn’t want to become a plaything for some guy passing through town.

  He shifted his hips as if to give me a taste of what I’d been missing. “Okay. So what about the day after tomorrow? I was wondering if you wanted to drive up the coast with me.”

  I hadn’t expected him to suggest a trip. I’d thought his mind was firmly between his legs. I knew mine was. “Where were you thinking?”

  He pushed his fingers through his hair and I had to fight the urge to reach out and do the same thing.

  “I just want to see some of Maine. Wherever you think best.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was excitement or danger rumbling in my belly, but I wanted to show him my beautiful state. Just as I was about to accept and suggest we go to Bath, I realized there was no way that would be possible. “We can’t just take off up the coast,” I said.

  He pulled me from the counter, turned me and walked me backward. “Why not? Are you working?”

  “You’ll be recognized.”

  He shrugged. “I doubt it. It’s amazing what a hat and some old jeans can disguise. And if I am, I am.”

  “But, what about Audrey? Surely you can’t risk someone spotting us.”

  “I promise not to kiss you, or hold your hand. Outside of New York and LA, it’s rare to get photographed. And even if we do—”

  “No. I want no part of that.”

  He frowned. “Part of what?” he asked.

  “The fame thing. I don’t want anyone taking my picture.” Fear slithered down my spine at the thought of strangers gawking at me. That exposure and lack of privacy were what had sent me running from New York.

  He cocked his head. “It’s really not that bad,” he said. “People are pretty friendly.”

  I shrugged. “You’re not going to get branded a whore and a homewrecker if we get caught.” There was no way I’d risk being seen. It would make life too messy.

  He sighed, pausing in the middle of the kitchen. I could almost see the cogs in his brain crank into action. “What about if we just drive up the coast? We could take a picnic, but not stop anywhere with people.”

  He sounded excited—I hated to let him down.

  “Come on,” he begged. “I really want to get out and explore. You must know the places where there aren’t any people.”

  “No restaurants,” I said, prodding him in the chest.

  “Promise.” A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.

  “No PDA, either.” I stabbed my finger twice against his hard pecs.

  “I’ll try to keep my hands to myself, but you really are impossible to resist.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do you have an impulse control problem?”

  “With you? Yes,” he said. “Do we have a deal?”

  “And promise to keep your hands to yourself?”

  He grinned. “I promise.”

  “Okay,” I said, reaching behind me, removing his arms and backing away from him slowly.

  “Okay?” He followed me as I headed toward the back door.

  “I’ll see you the day a
fter tomorrow.” I turned to grab the brass doorknob.

  “You’re leaving?” he asked, sounding confused.

  “I am.”

  “I’ll let you go on one condition.” He caught the door before it slammed shut.

  “Let me?” I asked over my shoulder, as I headed to the edge of the deck.

  “You heard me. Don’t make me come over there.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Okay, tell me.”

  “Wear a skirt,” he said and my heart tripped. His confidence was a complete turn-on. “I saw you in one. I liked it.”

  Goose bumps scattered across my skin.

  “Deal,” I said.

  “Perfect.” He crossed his arms and watched as I turned and padded down the steps. As I got to my back door, I checked and he was still there, leaning against the cottage, his arms folded.

  I couldn’t help but think I’d just made a deal with a very handsome devil.

  Twelve

  Matt

  My thighs ached as I stepped out of the shower. I’d extended my run this morning. I needed to get rid of as much excess energy as possible because a day in the car with Lana without being able to touch her, kiss her or fuck her was going to keep my balls blue. Just as they’d been since I let her walk off my porch two days ago.

  Blue, purple or fucking orange balls, I didn’t care—I was looking forward to our trip today, even though I really should have cancelled. In fact, I shouldn’t have suggested it at all. I’d had to convince her to come with me and that was a new experience. I wasn’t used to working to get a woman to do what I wanted, but I liked the challenge. And she seemed worth the risk.

  I dried off, then pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing that would attract attention. Most of the women I’d fucked along the way had been desperate to go to the most photographed places in LA—needy for eyes on them and hopeful they’d be discovered just by being seen with me. But not Lana. She’d seemed horrified at the thought of someone seeing us together. Maybe she was just afraid she’d expose my relationship with Audrey, but something in the way Lana’s whole body had tightened at the thought of discovery made me think it went deeper than that. I grabbed my wallet and sunglasses from my nightstand and headed out. I didn’t want to be late.

  My assistant had arranged for a nondescript car to be delivered first thing this morning complete with a packed picnic in the trunk. I hadn’t driven the first one much, but just in case some photographer had clocked the license plate, I’d swapped it out. I wanted Lana to feel completely comfortable. And there was no point in taking unnecessary risks. I didn’t want to needlessly jeopardize my career.

  I took the steps to her porch in two strides and knocked on the door.

  She swore.

  “I heard that,” I said with a chuckle.

  “I just spilled—never mind. Come in!”

  I opened the door and stepped inside. “Lana?” I asked when I didn’t spot her.

  She popped up from the other side of the counter. “Here. I just spilled my coffee.” She held up a cloth as if to prove her point. “I’m not very coordinated in the morning.”

  Maybe not, but she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed and her chestnut hair fanned out over her shoulders. I scanned her body, stopping when I found what I was looking for. “Nice skirt.” I tried to suppress my grin. She might make me work for it, but the reward was well worth it.

  She lifted her shoulder as if it was no big deal. I knew better. I couldn’t imagine Lana was the type of girl who did what men told her very often.

  “You look beautiful.”

  She ignored my compliment. “Ready to go?”

  “Your carriage awaits.”

  She beamed, the warmth of her unrestrained smile radiating out at me.

  I held the door open and she passed by, leaving a trail of ocean breeze and roses. She was like an old-Hollywood movie star.

  “Where’s your car?” She paused at the top of the steps and looked back at me.

  I nodded forward. “Right there. I thought I’d mix it up a little.”

  Her eyebrows drew together a little before she turned back and headed toward the SUV.

  “You had a sports car.”

  “I thought this was a little less conspicuous. That okay?”

  Her shoulders lowered as she approached the passenger side. “Yeah. It’s more than okay.” I unlocked the car and reached for her door. Our hands collided. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I told you, I’m a boy from the Midwest. That’s what we do, so you’ll have to put up with it.” She dropped her hand and I took over. I wasn’t sure if she liked me in charge or whether she relented out of politeness. Either way, it felt good.

  She slid into the seat as if she weren’t subject to the same rules of gravity as the rest of us. Fluid. Graceful.

  I shut the door and rounded the trunk, spinning my keys on my forefinger. Yeah, today was going to be a good day.

  “Holy crap, was I meant to pack the lunch?” she said, slapping her palms on her pleated skirt, the fabric riding up her thighs.

  “I got it covered,” I replied, trying to pull my attention from her legs to the rearview mirror so I could reverse out of the drive.

  “You do?”

  “In the trunk. I didn’t make it, but it looks pretty good.”

  “That’s so sweet of you.”

  “Hey, I can’t exactly ask a girl on a date and then expect her to make the food.” I pulled onto the street and glanced at her when she didn’t respond.

  “A date?” she asked, watching my face carefully.

  “Yeah, a date.” I hadn’t really thought about it, but what else was it? I’d fucked her. I definitely wanted to fuck her again, and we were going to be spending the day exploring the coast alone. I was pretty sure this was a date.

  “I thought I was just showing you my state,” she mumbled.

  I chuckled. “I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but some girls might not be so downbeat at the thought of going on a date with me.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m not some girls.”

  “Well, that’s for damn sure.” I grinned as I turned onto Main Street.

  “I just … I thought we were friends is all.”

  “We are friends. Doesn’t mean we can’t be more.”

  She took a deep breath. Would she deny it? She’d worn a skirt at my request, which didn’t exactly scream “friend zone.” How much of a fight was she going to put up?

  “Where are we headed?” she asked, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes and slouching in her seat as we drove down Main Street.

  “These windows are tinted. No one can see in.”

  “People are staring,” she said.

  “No, they’re not, but even if they were, who cares? Why are you so uncomfortable with a little attention? You’re gorgeous. I’d have thought you’d be used to it.”

  “I don’t like people knowing my business.”

  “So you decided to live in a small town?” I chuckled, turning out of Main Street and onto the main coastal highway. “Aren’t you better off in a big city?”

  “Worthington is my home. I told you I went to college in New York.” Her voice trailed off and when I glanced at her she was staring at her lap. “It didn’t suit me.”

  I loved New York—the buzz, the ambition, the complete melting pot of people. It seemed so exciting compared to Gary, Indiana. Places like Worthington existed in the glossy pages of magazines and books, but I found it hard to believe people actually lived there. Not because it wasn’t beautiful—it was too beautiful. Almost manufactured, it looked so perfect.

  “What didn’t you like?”

  “In college, everyone is in everyone else’s business.” Her hands were folded across her chest and her answers were clipped. She was clearly uncomfortable talking about this and I wanted to know why.

  “I think you get that wherever you go, though. People love to gossip. And the bad is outweighed by the
good.”

  “Really?” She loosened her seatbelt and turned to face me. “Don’t you hate people constantly taking pictures of you, regardless of what you’re doing? Even if you’re just coming out of the gym or going to a restaurant?”

  “It gets old, but success as a Hollywood actor comes at a price.”

  “Isn’t that too much of a sacrifice?”

  “I can’t really complain. It’s like wanting to become a lawyer but not enjoying reading or becoming a baker but hating cakes. No job is perfect. And if I want to be successful in Hollywood, being recognized is just part of it. I just have to put up with it. It’s my choice, and the upside is I paid off my dad’s mortgage, bought each of my brothers a house. I mean, there’s a lot to love about this acting gig.” I grinned, and thankfully she smiled back.

  “Must be a nice feeling, providing for your family like that.” She rested the side of her head against the seat back.

  I reached out, found her hand and laced our fingers together. “It is. And if I have someone taking pictures of me leaving the gym, well, I can handle that. It’s not the photographs themselves that are a problem. The thing that bothers me most is how people in the industry think they know me because they’ve seen my picture. Or a movie I’m in. Or because I used to be a model. They make assumptions—people have opinions about me before they’ve even met me.”

  “I get that,” she said. “People can judge. But that’s true whoever you are.”

  “I guess.” I sighed. “You’ve never wanted to be famous?” I asked. “Even as a kid?”

  She shook her head. “Never. I’ve always loved jewelry and design. I thought at one point I’d want to do really high-end, exclusive pieces for the wealthy and fabulous.”

  “What changed your mind?” I asked.

  She shrugged and turned back to face the windshield, pulling her hand from mine. “Dreams change. I wanted to be in Worthington, so the shop made sense.”

  I nodded. “I get it. When I left Indiana, I headed to Wall Street. I thought I was going to be some kind of finance whizz kid.”

  “Really?” she asked, turning back to look at me. “So you haven’t always wanted to be an actor?”

  “God, not at all. I wanted to wear slick suits and talk about options and trading and be a king of Wall Street. I really thought I was going to be a stockbroker.”