Heartthrob (Hollywood Hearts, #1)

by Belinda Williams

  My phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from Arabella. I’d been wondering when I’d hear from her. We hadn’t been in contact since I’d left to attend the after parties and she was probably dying to hear all about it. I opened the message. Once again I’d underestimated her. It appeared she was already across the latest gossip.

  This is in the news: ‘Could a reconciliation be on the cards for Golden Globe winner Lena Lyons?’ Is it true?

  I tried not to cringe as I read the headline and reluctantly clicked on the link. I sucked in a breath at the image of Lena leaning in and listening to Duncan talk. It had been taken at the after party while I’d had my awkward conversation with the not-so-ex-wife. It had been one hundred percent business, but of course the tabloids made it look like they were having a heart-to-heart.

  “Complete lies,” said Lena.

  I quickly shut the page, not realizing she’d been looking over my shoulder. “Sorry.”

  “What for? In this town a casual conversation constitutes a marriage proposal. Don’t worry about it. I’m not.”

  I nodded, quickly typed ‘All lies’ and dropped the phone into my pocket where it buzzed again. I sighed.

  Good. Duncan is way too old for Lena. What about this one? ‘Does Hollywood heartthrob have designs on fashionista?’

  My finger hesitated as I hovered over the link.

  “Not entirely all lies,” Lena said. “But I wouldn’t bother.”

  In spite of her words, I couldn’t help myself. Being in the media constantly was a normal occurrence for Lena, but it was still new to me. I clicked on the link.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  “I told you not to open it.”

  The article included two photos taken when we were waiting for the car following the after party. And I’d thought I’d been hiding from the paparazzi. I wished. Shot at that angle, there must have been a spy in the crowd of actresses and actors. The images were grainy and slightly blurry, like they’d been taken at close range on a camera phone, but there was no mistaking it was us. Could Faith have done it? Realistically, it could have been anyone. Even one of the reliable-looking bodyguards.

  There was one with Jake almost smiling and me giving him a coy look. Probably when I was teasing him about what car he drove. On the bright side, my dress looked pretty awesome.

  My stomach pitched when I saw the next photo: an image of me climbing into Jake's truck.

  My phone vibrated in my hand with an impatient message from Bella:

  So? Is it true?

  I sighed again, feeling as though I’d aged several years in the last day. I typed a reply.

  Me: He gave me a ride home. That’s all.

  Bella: No way! I don’t believe you.

  Me: Believe what you like. Nothing happened.

  Bella: Argh! I hate you right now, you know that? The hottest guy in Hollywood gives you a ride home and you go all boring Ally. Typical.

  I turned my phone off, not bothering to reply. For once, boring Ally was a good cover. If I’d told Arabella what really happened last night, she’d probably die of excitement or launch an online campaign to find out who trashed my designs.

  “Come on,” Lena said gently. “Why don’t you go freshen up before the others arrive?” Which was her way of saying I had flour, tomato paste or some other ingredient on me. I’d never been able to stay clean in the kitchen.

  Turned out I couldn’t stay clean in Hollywood either. And now I was lying about it to the people I loved.

  Chapter 24

  True to his word, Jake arrived in under an hour. In his Ferrari. The sound of the throaty engine made me walk to the front door to observe his approach.

  I immediately noticed he was alone. Obviously a trip to Lena’s didn’t warrant Chris’s presence. Her house had become like a high-security compound after the events of the previous night.

  “Show off,” I said when he got out of the car, determined not to resort to open-mouthed admiration at the beautiful Ferrari and the beautiful man. The disturbing thing was he’d looked just as damn good climbing out of the truck as he did out of a supercar.

  He grinned at me.

  I gestured to the car. “And red? Don’t you think it’s a bit predictable?”

  He closed the door and walked up the steps to stand in front of me. “It’s a Ferrari.”

  I rolled my eyes. In response, he caught me by the elbows and pulled me to him, his lips deftly putting an end to my criticisms.

  I didn’t resist. Hell, I couldn’t have even if I’d tried. Kissing Jake was like falling into the most exquisite daydream. Hot and sweet, bright and . . . with butterflies. There were definitely butterflies floating around our heads in a Jake daydream. The man made me forget myself entirely.

  When he was done, I found I couldn’t stand properly so I leaned against him, his chiseled chest surprisingly comforting.

  “We’re in the papers,” I mumbled into his T-shirt.

  “I saw.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know. Weren’t we supposed to keep things quiet?”

  He stroked my hair and I was powerless to stop a contented sigh.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Besides, in Hollywood, this is keeping things quiet.”

  I moved back and gave him an incredulous look. “Me getting into your car is keeping things quiet?”

  Jake seemed nonplussed. “Yeah. If I wanted to announce it to the world, I’d turn up to an awards ceremony with you on my arm.”

  “Oh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Jake suddenly stiffened and gripped my arms more tightly. “Oh, man. Is that your lasagna I can smell?”

  “You bet. And here come more reinforcements now.”

  We stepped apart to watch Chloe pull up in a cute little light-blue Prius. Driven by any other star it would have been contrived, but it suited her. She jumped out of the car and ran toward us, pushing Jake to one side and throwing her arms around me.

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe what happened! Lena told me and I’m so sorry. How fucked up. We’re used to dealing with crazy people but you shouldn’t have to, it’s so screwed up.” She eased back, but her grip on my shoulders remained tight. “Are you OK? Of course you’re not OK! Ugh! I wish I could do something to help.”

  I was struck by the similarity between Chloe and Arabella. Not in looks, obviously. Or attitude. Chloe was much sweeter than Bella. It was their tendency to run off at the mouth and get all excited. Maybe it was a young person thing?

  I reached up and removed her hands, catching Jake’s amused look as I did so. The expression he directed toward Chloe was distinctly big brotherly.

  “I’m OK, Chloe,” I assured her. “Really. I cooked lasagna.”

  She blinked. “Is that code for something?”

  Jake chuckled. “There’s no code, Chloe. Valenti cooking makes everything better.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him, impressed.

  “What?” He shrugged. “It’s hardly a secret, is it? You cook when you’re upset.”

  “I cook at other times, too.”

  “Yeah, I know, but this lasagna’s about more than cooking. It’s about bringing people together.”

  “No, it isn’t. That was Lena.”

  “And Lena knows you pretty well, doesn’t she?”

  I studied him for a long moment. “Smart-ass.”

  Chloe giggled. “He totally is, but I’d also say he gets you.”

  She had a point. I’d only known him for a few weeks but Jake did seem to get me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  “Come on,” he said, sensing my discomfort and further proving the point. “I don’t want to keep smelling it from out here. I need to go inside and drool over it.”

  “Ew, Jake,” complained Chloe as we made our way inside. “You’ve been spending too much time with your dog. Drooling is not an appropriate way to show your appreciation for Ally’s cooking.”

&n
bsp; “Alright. I’ll salivate then. Is that acceptable?”

  “Marginally better I guess. It still sounds kind of . . . wet.”

  We all laughed.

  “Oh, and Ally?” Chloe said as we walked. “I totally meant what I said about you designing a dress for me for the Academy Awards. You can’t let this get in the way of that. I won’t let it. No way is this scaring you off. I want to wear a totally kick-ass dress that screams, ‘Fuck you!’ just to make a point.”

  I stopped and stared at her. “You want a dress that says ‘Fuck you’?”

  “Well, not literally. It just needs to be completely gorgeous and classy, and turn heads the way Lena’s Golden Globes dress did. It will be an undercurrent of ‘fuck you,’ not an obvious statement.”

  “That’s quite a design brief,” commented Jake.

  “I think Ally’s up to it,” Chloe replied firmly.

  I grinned. “I’m up for a challenge.”

  *

  The evening passed in a blur of food and laughter and conversation. It seemed impossible that I was happy and having so much fun when, only the night before, my designs had been destroyed by a potential stalker. Home may have been hundreds of miles away, but with these people I almost felt as if I belonged.

  It made me hum to myself as I wrote down Chloe’s waist measurement.

  Chloe groaned. “I think you should take half an inch off that. I’m pretty sure that lasagna went straight to my waist and hips.”

  “Liar.” She was barely out of her teenage years and her ‘hips’ were almost non-existent. A lot like Lena had been in her younger years.

  Lena laughed from her position on the sofa, but there was a note of pain in it. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Inviting you wasn’t fair.”

  “What isn’t fair is that something that delicious is so very, very bad for me.”

  “You two are drama queens,” I announced. “A good meal never hurt anybody.”

  “You’re wrong, Ally,” Jake said. He was lying sprawled on the other end of the sofa like the time I’d cooked him pizza. “I’m in pain.”

  I straightened and stopped writing Chloe’s measurements. “How are you in pain? Valenti lasagna does not give you indigestion. Trust me.”

  “Not that. You’ve ruined regular food for me. And possibly endorphins.”

  “Sorry,” I said, but I didn't really mean it.

  “I’m usually a size 2,” Chloe commented. “If that helps.”

  “It doesn’t. Nobody is a size 2 or a size 4 or a size 6 for that matter. We’re all unique and your dress will be unique to you.”

  Chloe looked over my head at Lena. “Can I keep her? Pretty please?”

  “She’s mine,” Jake mumbled, almost half asleep.

  The other women’s eyes widened in shock and then changed to what appeared to be triumphant glee. I dropped my gaze to the floor, my cheeks burning bright red.

  “We’ll just borrow her, Jake, I promise,” said Chloe.

  I heard him grunt softly. Or it could have been a quiet snore, I wasn’t sure.

  Jay walked into the kitchen wearing his exquisitely tailored suit. He always wore it and he wouldn’t tell me where it was from. I’d considered tackling him to try to discover if there was a label inside the collar, but figured that wouldn’t go well for me.

  “Lena?” he asked. “Can I talk to you for a moment? In private?”

  Lena stood and frowned. “Sure.” She followed him into another part of the house.

  When they were gone, Chloe nodded toward Jake passed out on the sofa. “He’s so sweet,” she whispered. “Just like that beautiful dog of his. Loyal and genuine. It’s partly why he thinks he doesn’t belong in Hollywood.”

  “You’re nice and you were born and bred here,” I pointed out. “Some would even call you sweet.”

  Chloe’s nose crinkled in obvious distaste. “Don’t remind me.” She batted her eyelids at me. “But I’m Hollywood sweet. Jake’s all-American good guy. You can’t manufacture that.”

  “He plays it up, though,” I suggested.

  “Totally,” Chloe agreed. “Wouldn’t you? Everyone laps it up. It guarantees him a paycheck.”

  It reminded me of the conversation I’d had with Jake about how he was tired of playing the same old roles. I tucked the pencil behind my ear and wound the tape around Chloe’s hips. “Can I ask your opinion?”

  “Please don’t let it be about my hips. I told you I wasn’t imagining it.”

  I batted her leg lightly with the back of my hand. “Stop obsessing. It’s nothing to do with that. I was just wondering if you can see Jake playing different roles? Like, what about something darker or more gritty?”

  Chloe’s eyebrows rose. She darted a glance in Jake's direction but he was sleeping soundly. “Like a detective or even a bad guy?”

  “Yeah. Why not? What do you think?”

  Chloe chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “Here’s the thing,” she said after a moment. “I think his talent’s being wasted.”

  I scrawled the measurement down, hiding my surprise. “You do?”

  “Yeah. Completely. He’s cast in all those good-guy roles because it’s so close to his natural personality and he can play it without thinking. He’s been typecast, for sure. Even the studios have bought it.”

  “Because it pays?”

  “Absolutely. But you asked for my opinion and my opinion is that Jacob Swan is one of the most underrated actors in the business.”

  I dropped the tape from her hips and stared up at her. She was so young—and beautiful—it was easy to forget she had been in the industry since she was five years old. The reality was she was more seasoned than a lot of the other big names.

  She took my silence for a question and with a quick glance to make sure Jake was still asleep, she knelt down so we were face to face.

  “Ally, I saw him when we were on set. He was coaching Faith. Faith Martin. And she was listening. One hundred percent. She’s been acting for over thirty years and she was taking tips from Jake. I mean, if I could be like her in fifteen years’ time, I’d die happy.”

  I swallowed, a bitter taste suddenly filling my mouth. I wasn’t about to share my suspicions with Chloe. Jake and Lena had made it clear they trusted Faith, but Chloe’s comment deeply unsettled me. I’d bet Faith was listening, I thought.

  “I know,” said Chloe, reading my non-response for disbelief. “It makes me love Faith all the more. I have such a girl crush on her.”

  “Oh?” I waved my hands for Chloe to stand up and then took her bust measurement.

  “I know. Who wouldn’t, right? She’s beautiful and successful and so talented.”

  “Uh huh.” I noted the figure down.

  There was a pause, and then Chloe spoke. “Why don’t you like her?”

  I resisted swearing under my breath. “Why would you say that?”

  “You’re not a very good actress, Ally.”

  I sighed. “I don’t really know her,” I said carefully. “I’ve only met her twice. She was a bit . . . abrupt, that’s all.”

  Chloe grinned. “Oh, that’s just Faith. Once you get to know her she’s a riot.”

  “Anyway,” I said, keen to change the subject. “What do you think it would take for Jake to be offered some fresh roles?”

  “Honestly? For him to believe in himself. That’s it.”

  I ran the tape along the length of her arm. “Why would you say he doesn’t believe in himself?”

  “He hides it well—because he’s such a damn good actor—but deep down I think he feels like he’s an impostor. He ended up in Hollywood by accident, after all.”

  I let go of the tape. “Do you mean the football accident?”

  “Yeah, it was so sad. Landing that one tackle badly basically ended his life as he knew it.”

  I frowned at her. “He told me his family takes football seriously, but that’s kind of dramatic, don’t you think?”

  Confusion, then surprise, registered on her delicate
features. “You know he was a college football superstar, right?”

  I shrugged. “All I know is that he used to play football. He hasn’t said much beyond that.”

  “I thought everyone knew.”

  “Not everyone’s world revolves around Hollywood,” I said, then quickly added, “No offense intended.”

  Chloe looked more surprised than hurt. “Jake had a whole other life before he came to Hollywood,” she explained. “It was rumored he was going to be drafted for the NFL. Whether that’s actually true or not, I don’t know. You know how these stories morph into legend status when someone becomes well-known? Anyway, before he could declare for the draft, he was injured during a college match. He was in a coma for three months.”

  I stared at her. “In a coma?” I repeated. No wonder Jake had reacted strangely the few times the subject had come up. It must have been some injury. “Well, I’m an idiot,” I muttered.

  “No, you’re not. Jake probably just assumed you knew.”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t googled him.” Chances were if I did, my name would be listed next to his along with some suggestive photos. I’d been deliberately avoiding it.

  “So you don’t know the rest?”

  The rest?

  She gave me a reassuring smile, probably because I was doing my best Bambi impression. “Do me a favor? Google him sometime. It’s not snooping, I promise. It’s publicly available information. Then you’ll see what I mean when I say he thinks he doesn’t belong here.”

  I mirrored her smile, although I didn’t feel like it. Was nothing in this town what it seemed? “Thanks, Chloe.”

  An iridescent smile lit her face and I took a small step back. She was stunning. I was going to love designing her Academy Awards dress.

  “Pleasure. And he does belong here. More than he knows. That man will be winning awards just like Lena within a few years if he can learn to trust his acting ability.”

  I glanced over at the sofa. Aside from his natural good looks, he was unassuming. It seemed that natural quality was restricting him. I wondered what it would take to help him break whatever it was that was holding him back?

  “Hey,” Chloe said. “That applies to you too, you know.”