The strength of his desire dried his mouth. The memory of Cara’s azure eyes staring into his as he’d pulled her close, her chest and firm thighs against his flooded his body with remembered sensation. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Since Aoife, his relationships with women followed a predictable trajectory. Date, bed. Goodbye. Maybe because the women he dated knew Ethan Quinn movie star, rather than Ethan Quinn man. A relationship with Cara would be different. She not only knew his entire history but liked him for who he really was, rather than the faked-up public persona that he lived in Hollywood.
She was the only woman he’d let close. Because there had never been the possibility of involvement between them.
But the sands had shifted.
Having Cara enter his world was going to be dangerous.
Chapter Eight
There was absolutely no reason why she should have worn her sexiest jeans. Or the top that dipped low in the front. Apart from the fact that she needed every last drop of confidence that looking her best lent her. Just keep telling yourself that, Cara thought, pushing out the little voice that mocked she was dressing for Ethan.
In one way, she was. After all, if she was going to be photographed as his current squeeze, she owed it to him to at least look vaguely enticing. Who are you kidding? You want to see that look in his eyes again… The look that heated her blood and made her body all tingly when he pulled her close on the dance-floor. The one he’d never directed at her in all the years they’d known each other.
She’d never questioned her feelings for Ethan before. But then, she’d never felt quite like this about him either. Ethan didn’t do serious. Never flirted with long-term. A quick fling could ruin their relationship forever. But just the thought of him broke her out in goosebumps. Which couldn’t be good.
The fasten seat belts light went on.
“We’ll be landing in the next few moments, please ensure that your tables are in the clipped-up position,” a disembodied voice drawled.
Cara shoved her latest read, a compelling biography of a woman prison warder, in her bag and slipped her feet back into her high-heeled sandals. She pulled her hairbrush out of the bag, and quickly reapplied her makeup.
“Meeting someone special?” the elderly lady who’d been her companion in first class for the last twelve hours asked. Appearances could be deceptive. Rather than an old lady visiting family, Juliet was an octogenarian writer whose thriller was going to be turned into a film.
“My friend is meeting me at the airport,” Cara said.
“A man friend?” Juliet’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Dimples formed perfect dents in her powdery cheeks.
Cara felt her cheeks heat in a flush. “A man friend,” Cara confirmed. “How about you?”
“My agent. My book is being made into a film—I have to meet with the scriptwriter and read through his treatment.”
“It’s so exciting!” Cara leaned closer.
“I never thought I’d see one of my books on the silver screen,” Juliet said. “Especially at my age.”
“I guess you never know what twists and turns your life will take.”
Over the long flight they’d talked about everything. A shared love of writing had formed an unexpected bond, and the enforced proximity had strengthened it.
“Pass me your cell phone.” Juliet extended a wrinkled hand with pink painted nails. “I want to put my number into it.”
Cara handed it over.
Juliet carefully added Cara’s number into her own cell too. After passing it back, Juliet continued. “I’d love to meet you for lunch if you’re in central Hollywood. I’ve enjoyed meeting you.”
“Me too, Juliet,” Cara said, surprised to realize how true her words were. Juliet’s agile mind and quick wit had been a godsend during the flight. She’d confided that she’d lost her job, but hadn’t gone into detail about Ethan. Some things weren’t meant for sharing. “I’m staying with a friend in Malibu, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to join you for lunch, but I’ll certainly try.”
“Do, honey.” Juliet patted her hand in a grandmotherly way. “Oh, and I have something for you.” She reached into her bag, and pulled out a book with a gory picture of a man with a slashed throat on the cover, with the title, Edge of Night, written below it.
“Yours?” Cara’s voice sounded faint. Somehow she’d imagined Juliet’s book to be more cozy than slasher.
“Mine.” Juliet’s head jerked down then up. Pride lit her eyes. “A psychological thriller about a very complex man.” She giggled. “You should see your face!”
Cara smiled. “I didn’t expect…”
“People never do, dear.” Juliet patted her hand. “You should never judge anyone by their appearance, you know. What’s inside may surprise you.”
The lights dimmed.
“Oh good, we’re landing.” Juliet clasped her bag on her lap. Leaned closer and whispered into Cara’s ear. “Don’t worry. This little career break will turn out for the best, you’ll see.”
The plane dipped toward the runway. Cara stowed her makeup bag and mirror in her bag, pulled in a lungful of air. And prepared to land.
****
Leaning against a pillar outside the arrivals gate, Ethan glanced at his Rolex. He hadn’t managed to escape detection; two girls across the concourse had caught his eye with their excited smiles on the way in.
The first trickle of fresh travelers had walked through a few minutes ago. He searched the wave that followed for her face without success.
Around him, reunited families hugged and laughed. His stomach clenched at their happy faces. In the years since he’d been in California, he’d never greeted anyone at the airport. Never persuaded his last living relative, Sean, to make the trip.
Time seemed to stand still as he waited. The tinny voice announced another flight. Then, pushing a trolley laden with bags, Cara appeared. A diminutive, white haired woman walked alongside her, and the two were deep in conversation.
“Juliet!” A tall, dark haired man waved in Cara’s direction and hurried over.
With a smile, the lady introduced the newcomer to Cara, who surrendered the trolley to his care before kissing the lady’s cheek.
Cara looked around.
The moment their gazes connected, Ethan felt as though the air had been forced out of his lungs. Dressed simply in tight, navy jeans and a red T-shirt that showcased every dangerous curve, she was simply stunning.
She smiled.
Ethan struggled for air.
She said something to the lady and her friend—who both glanced in Ethan’s direction—and said her goodbyes. “Hey!” she said, walking toward him. “There you are.”
Ethan shook the cobwebs out of his brain and took the bag from her shoulder. “Good to see you.” His voice sounded gravelly, as though he’d been dragging himself on his stomach through the desert for days without water. He swallowed. “Good flight?”
Somehow, without any prompting from his brain, his body moved closer. She smelled of lemons. His face lowered to hers, and his mouth dusted across her mouth.
She stayed so still she might have been carved from stone.
“Yes, good,” she whispered, her breath warming his lips.
The urge to pull her into his arms, to really kiss her, flashed like lightning.
Her pupils expanded into large black pools.
A breathless voice shattered the spell. “Can we have a picture?”
The girls had made it across the concourse and stood close by. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t registered their approach.
Ethan stepped back. “Sure.”
Both girls giggled as he gifted them with his best movie star grin. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cara rub a hand across her eyes as if to obliterate his image.
“Who’s first?” He stretched one arm out in silent invitation.
“Oh, we don’t want a picture with you, we want a picture of the two of you together,” one of the girls explai
ned. “You’re Cara, aren’t you?”
Cara’s jaw dropped. “I…”
“My friend’s just come off a long flight,” Ethan said. “I’m sure she’d prefer…”
The girl pouted. “Oh, please…”
Ethan glanced around. People seemed to be watching the tableau unfolding before them with interest. They really needed to get out of here as soon as possible.
Cara stepped close, picked up his arm, and draped it over her shoulder. “Yes, I’m Cara.” She smiled brightly at the girls. “I don’t mind being photographed.”
All smiles again, the girls quickly snapped a picture.
“Now, we have to go.” With a glance at the doors, Cara efficiently engineered their exit, leaving Ethan free to follow in her wake.
In two long strides, he caught up with her. “Do you even know where you’re going?”
She shot him a glance beneath long dark lashes. Her cheek dimpled. “I haven’t a clue—I just thought we ought to get out of there before you drew any more attention.”
“We drew any more attention.” Ethan slipped his hand into hers, feeling the familiar jolt as their palms connected. “Those girls were more interested in seeing you than they were seeing me.” He pushed the door open.
“Aw.” Cara pouted. “Feeling edged out of the spotlight?”
The urge to laugh fought with the urge to kiss her senseless. As they were in public, laughter won.
He pulled her along to the silver Aston-Martin waiting at the curb. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.” The mere thought of what dealing with her might entail sent his mind spiraling into unfamiliar territory. Or unfamiliar when it came to Cara. An imagined land of very little clothing, and plenty of heat.
Ethan rubbed a hand over his hair. “Buckle up.”
“I hope you’ve got some food ready for me,” Cara teased. “You know I’m always hungry.”
Hungry for me? Ethan squashed the thought. He’d always been able to tease her without innuendo, why was the first thought that bloomed in his mind such a provocative one? “Yeah, you’re a complete greedy guts.” The powerful car shifted up a gear as they sped through the traffic.
“Well, I’m not a skinny actress, that’s for sure.” Was that a note of defiance in her voice.
“I don’t know where you put it.” He glanced over. “You must have hollow legs.”
Cara’s laughter filled the car, so infectious he couldn’t help laughing too.
“So, rashers, sausages and beans, I reckon,” she teased. “Or have your culinary skills improved since you last cooked for me?”
Sunday brunch had been their thing, and he’d always cooked it because Cara was incapable of doing much more than heating a can of soup. Ethan’s mind flashed back to the hours they’d spent across the pine table in his mother’s kitchen. He’d always made brunch, and she’d always brought the Sunday papers.
The realization hit him that the moments with Cara had been what he’d looked forward to all week, and she’d never let him down. Had been there, rain or shine.
“I’ve expanded my repertoire,” Ethan said.
“Oh, have you?” The teasing tone in her voice hinted at things unspoken. “Well, I guess after so many years…”
“I’ve grown up.” Ethan clutched the steering wheel.
In the years since he left Ireland, he’d had plenty of time to enjoy a different life. Many different women. And from the moment he’d pulled her out of that damned costume, and felt her warm curves, his feelings for Cara had deepened and intensified. There was no way he could deny it to himself any longer. He wanted her with a soul-deep longing that tangled his insides and turned his brain to mush. And try as he might, there was no stuffing that particular genie back in the bottle.
****
Flirting was fun.
And when you knew the person almost as well as you knew yourself, it was darned irresistible. Cara could tell by the glint in Ethan’s eye, the way his body shifted on the black leather seat as she laughed, that he was feeling the tug of attraction too.
She gazed out of the window, tilted her head up toward the blue sky, and felt her spirit soar like a bird high above. She could feel the smile on her face, and with another man, might have felt embarrassed to be so goofy, but with Ethan…
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, you have no idea how much.” She stretched her arms out in front of her, and rotated her wrists. “Being here is wonderful.”
The dark skies and blacker mood that had pressed down on her in Donabridge, had been banished ever since she walked through the doors and saw him lounging against a pillar, waiting for her.
Once, it would have been as natural as breathing to tell him that being with him was wonderful. She would have kissed his cheek, or reached for his hand. But the attraction, slow-burning through her core, sending little tingles through her, stilled her voice in her throat. Saying such things meant more, somehow, now.
She hadn’t wanted things to change between them. But it had. The moment she’d seen him in Donabridge. And right now there was no way she wanted to turn back the clock. “I like your hair.”
Ethan’s dark eyebrows rose. “I can’t wait to cut it,” he growled in a voice so deep that it sent shivers through her. “One more week.”
“Will you leave it long—for me? Just until I go.” She hadn’t given much thought to how long she was staying; the ticket he’d sent was one way. “I’m just going to stay for a couple of weeks. Is that all right, you won’t be fed up with me by then?”
“I want you to stay for longer. At least a month,” Ethan said. “I need you to help get my house sorted. I’m working all next week, so you’ll be alone a lot of the time.” He glanced over, and his mouth tilted in a smile so familiar her heart stuttered.
“So, I’ll be slaving away while you’re out enjoying yourself?”
“That just about covers it. I’m a real slave driver.”
A house on the beach, sun, sand, sex popped into her mind and she shook her head quickly to dispel it.
“Seriously, Cara. I’m sorry everything has gone so badly. I want you to take some time out. To re-evaluate.”
Cara’s mood burst like a balloon full of fanciful dreams striking a pin. She’d been fantasizing about a crazy affair while Ethan obviously felt nothing but guilt and pity for his old friend. Sure, he’d flirted, but he was incapable of not flirting, once someone else started it. He’d bedded all his leading ladies, hadn’t he?
Her mouth dried. Thank goodness, she hadn’t embarrassed herself by throwing herself at him. He was so gallant he’d probably have kissed her too, rather than tell her the truth.
Cara picked her bag off the floor, and made a pretense of searching inside, just so he wouldn’t see her lip quivering.
“I can’t wait for the film to be over,” Ethan continued, staring straight ahead. “I want to move all my stuff out to the beach house. I hate living with half my things in each place. I always want something that’s in the other house.”
“There must be advantages to filming?” Cara asked. “I mean, you love the acting, right?”
“This is my last Crash Carrigan movie,” Ethan said, with a note of finality in his tone. “I don’t want to be typecast. As a character, he’s sort of one-dimensional. I need more of a challenge.”
“Is a different actress playing your love interest?”
She knew the answer, but couldn’t resist digging for information about his latest leading lady, a leggy glamazon who, by all accounts, in life had just as voracious an appetite as the characters she portrayed on screen.
“Dee Macey’s in this one. She’s a good actress.” His mouth compressed into a tight line.
“And she’s gorgeous,” Cara added.
“She knows it too,” Ethan said. “But believe me, it’s hard work lying on top of her all day.”
“Ethan!” Cara’s voice came out as a squeak. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“It’s jus
t fact. I spent the last day on set lying in bed with her.”
“Kissing?” She tried to keep her mouth from drooping at the corners, rolled her lips in, as her stomach clenched at the thought of Ethan and the glamazon in a clinch.
Ethan puffed out air. “Kissing, pretending to make love, the whole thing.” He looked decidedly unhappy about it. “We have lousy chemistry, and it shows. Take after take. It was a nightmare.”
A smile warmed her heart, heated her throat, and finally tilted her lips. “Aw. Hard day at the office?”
“Decidedly not hard.” Ethan grinned. “Definitely limp.”
“You, Ethan Quinn, are a naughty boy.”
Ethan slid a warm hand over her knee. “Damn right.”
Chapter Nine
They drove for miles along the wide highway, beside the azure ocean. Cara cracked the window open, and a warm sea breeze lifted her hair. She could taste a trace of salt on her lips. Being here felt like a new beginning. A new chapter in her life, unopened, unexplored. Unexpected.
The silver Aston-Martin slowed, and the indicator’s tick punctuated the silence. As the powerful car turned, ornate silver gates swung open automatically between high stone walls topped with iron railings.
“Home,” Ethan murmured as a house came into view.
In this obviously wealthy neighborhood, she’d somehow expected a mansion, but her heart fluttered and soared at the simple wooden beach house surrounded by a romantically overgrown garden. She pulled in a lungful of air. “It’s beautiful.”
The car slowed, then stopped. In moments, Ethan was at her side, opening the door wide. “Come and look at the other side.” His mouth curved in that grin that melted women’s hearts, world over. He reached for her hand and tugged.
Bleached wooden steps led from the front of the house steeply down through a swathe of terraces filled with cascading greenery and large succulents. The wooden handrail was hot to Cara’s touch, and she concentrated carefully on the way down, as the soft swoosh of the ocean grew louder. Soon, she was standing on a silver beach. The sea lapped against the shoreline, lacy sea-foam caps on the waves breaking up as they sank into the sand.
The Morning After Page 6