by Alison Kent
But she’d agreed to meet Kit in her office at two to do her makeup for the fund-raiser that evening and needed coffee before she’d be able to pry open her eyes.
Otherwise she was likely to make a mess of her friend’s face.
It would have been nice to wake up and find Quentin still in bed—Shandi had slept right through his leaving.
Especially since Shandi had changed her tune about she and Quentin being together.
Helping to cement her decision was all the talking they had done during the night.
As crazy as she was about him—though she had known him such a very short time—she didn’t want to get used to their sleeping together.
She couldn’t afford to get used to their sleeping together.
Having him here with her now, sharing this one amazing adventurous week, was beyond anything she would ever have imagined.
And she was going to have to convince herself to be content with that. To enjoy this time out of time and expect nothing more.
She was not going to think about his invitation. She couldn’t let herself believe that it was real. He didn’t really want her—or any woman—to get in the way of his plans. She was different, that was all.
He wasn’t used to her independence, her need to make it on her own. Given time and distance, he’d come to realize the idea of having her with him was nothing more than enjoying the ways she stood out in the crowd.
She knew there were women who came to the city hoping to latch on to an industry contact, to win over high-powered men like Quentin Marks, to take them to bed in exchange for their professional connections.
It made it easy to understand his cynicism as well as his interest in her.
If most of the women he ran into wanted something from him or used him for what he could do, why wouldn’t he be distrustful?
Fighting that constant sense of skepticism had to be a hard way to live. A sad way to live.
She hated that such a brilliant, beautiful man had been forced to look at the world through glasses colored with suspicion that she doubted were rosy at all.
A big part of her wanted to kiss him and make him all better. To prove to him there were good women out there wanting him for who he was and not for his public image. And if they’d had time, she would.
Oh, hell, who was she kidding. If they had time, she’d fall straight in love. And that was her biggest fear. Her biggest thrill, too. That she’d do just that.
Was doing just that.
Had done just that.
Groaning, she padded her way to the kitchen for caffeine, pushing away the unsettling emotions and remembering instead all the things she loved sharing with him.
Like cuddling up with him. That after-sex nuzzling she loved to do. The talking long into the night after making love.
Not once had he rolled over and fallen asleep. In fact, she was the one likely to drop off if either of them did. She was the one working and going to school and making time to play with him.
Sure, he had his meetings, and she didn’t even want to imagine the stress involved in the decisions he faced—decisions making hers about where to live pale in comparison.
But the man never seemed tired, other than that one night early in the week after a day of meetings. She wanted to tap into his energy source, because he would never have any reason to use it all.
And if his ability to run, run, run was what it took to be successful, she was doomed to failure before she ever got off the ground.
While the coffee beans ground, she glanced across the main room to see that Evan’s door stood open. Either he’d never come home or he was already up and gone.
Even though he existed on less sleep than she did, she’d bet on the former.
He and April seemed even more cozy than usual since they’d made the decision to live together. Neither one had said a thing about whether or not they were sharing April’s bed, and Shandi wasn’t about to ask.
It wasn’t her business, for one thing.
For another, she was having enough trouble of her own having Quentin in her bed.
What in the world was she supposed to do when she was falling in love with a man she couldn’t have?
Right now the only thing she could do was shower and dress, pack up her things and get on the road. She had a very long twenty-four hours ahead and then the photo shoot taking up most of tomorrow.
Meaning she needed to gear up now for the nonstop weekend. Coffee poured and laced, she headed to the bathroom to get started doing just that.
Two hours later in Kit’s office, Shandi dropped the bag with her work clothes and personal toiletries in one of the two visitor’s chairs, her professional makeup case and the bag with her clothes for tonight’s midnight date in the other.
Kit was nowhere to be seen and a series of calls to the obvious spots in the hotel turned up nothing. Shandi used the wait to walk down the quiet subbasement hallway and call Quentin’s room from a house phone.
Doing her best not to turn into a nag, she hadn’t asked him last night what his plans were for today. He was a busy man. She assumed his whole day was scheduled. It surprised her when he picked up the phone.
“What are you doing?” she asked, settling into a plush love seat. “I thought you’d be out wheeling and dealing and making music magic.”
“It’s Saturday. I’m being a bum.”
She grinned to herself, imagining him propped up in bed with a room-service tray and the television remote. “Surely there’s some nubile young talent waiting to be discovered.”
He growled in her ear. “Speaking of nubile young talent, where are you and why aren’t you in my bed?”
Oh, but he made her heart flip-flop. “I’m wandering the halls looking for Kit. She has a fund-raiser tonight and I’m doing her makeup.”
“And after that?”
“Depends on the timing. I’ve got a hot date tonight after work. I might need to rest up before then.”
“I’ve got a bed you can use.”
She knew all about what happened in his bed and none of it involved resting. “How about we relax and watch a movie instead? If I remember correctly, we were supposed to do that on our first date.”
“You want to go to a movie?”
“Not go to. Watch. As long as the screening room isn’t booked for the afternoon.” A long shot, but one worth looking into.
“What time?”
Leaning down, Shandi scratched Eartha Kitty’s back as the hotel’s black cat crept out from beneath the side table, twining in and out of her legs. “I shouldn’t be but an hour with Kit. I’ll check with the concierge about the schedule for the room, so meet me there at three?”
“If it’s booked?”
“We’ll cross that bridge…yada yada.” She stopped herself from suggesting they order up a movie and watch it in his room. That would mean watching it in his bed.
And that would mean no rest for her weary body. “Just meet me there.”
Quentin agreed, though with a lot of grumbling about how comfortable he was, how much more so he’d be with her in his room instead, then clicked off.
Smiling, Shandi hung up the phone, enjoying his pique much more than she should.
She spent another few minutes playing with the cat before returning to Kit’s office and was just in time to see the other woman fairly fly out her door and into the hallway, glancing right then left. A band held Kit’s hair back from her face that she’d obviously just scrubbed clean.
“There you are.” Kit waved her arms excitedly. “I saw your things, but I’m such a mess I don’t know if you can help.”
“Are you kidding?” Shandi asked, following her girlfriend back inside and closing the door. “Makeup always helps.”
“Not this time it won’t.” Kit scurried about clearing a space on the side wall’s credenza for Shandi to work. “I told you about my escort for tonight, right?”
Opening her multilevel train case, Shandi nodded. “Orlando Bloom’s
older and way sexier brother.”
“Right. That’s him,” Kit said, finding an electrical outlet for the lighted three-way mirror she took from Shandi’s hand. “It seems he’s considering Hush for his own thirtieth birthday bash.”
“Hmm.” Shandi fastened a drape around Kit’s neck and shoulders once the other woman had pulled her desk chair up to the credenza. “Can’t get anyone to throw him a party so he’s throwing one for himself?”
“No. Well, yes. But it’s really more about who he’ll have on his guest list.” Kit heaved a deep breath. “Apparently he has little to do with the family’s gallery.”
“Except for raising funds.”
“Yes. And he’s helping to do that by inviting most of his clients to the fund-raiser tonight.”
Distracted, Shandi searched through the case for the colors she wanted to use. She chose a moisturizer first. “Who are his clients?”
“He’s an agent. In Hollywood. God, I’m so stupid. It never even occurred to me to wonder why the guest list was so weighted with celebrities.” Kit closed her eyes while Shandi massaged the lotion into her skin. “I mean, I assumed the family had connections…”
Shandi picked up the trailing sentence. “Just not that you’d be dating the source.”
“Yes. Exactly. God that feels so good.” She let her head fall back as Shandi massaged her jawline and chin. “How are you handling it? Dating a star?”
Focused on selecting a base and blush, powder, sponges and her favorite brush, Shandi took a minute to answer. A minute allowing her to gather her thoughts about the truth of her relationship with Quentin.
She wasn’t handling it well at all, this dating-a-star business. For one thing, she wasn’t sure they were dating. For another… “It’s one night, Kit. You’re a volunteer. He’s your escort.”
Kit opened one eye and glared at Shandi’s reflection. “Thanks for bursting that bubble.”
“That wasn’t what I meant,” she said, stepping in front of Kit to apply foundation. “You deal with celebrities all the time. You’re great with people. Remember when Dash Black stayed here? The two of you were so comfortable together no one would ever have known you weren’t lifelong friends.”
The glare this time was two eyed. “You’re missing the point, Shandi. I wasn’t dating Dash.”
“Which I’m sure his woman appreciated,” Shandi teased, working to smooth out the soft rosy blush. “Celebrities are people, too—uh, some of them anyway. Dash was. Quentin is. Even Constantine Hale is a regular guy. Go in expecting Orlando’s brother to be the same and you’ll do fine.”
“I hope so,” Kit said, closing her eyes at Shandi’s direction. “I still can’t believe I missed hearing him sing. Constantine. That had to have been amazing.”
Amazing wasn’t even the half of it. Shandi didn’t think she’d ever get over what his song had made her feel. She knew she’d never forget it. The longing, the ache, the uncommon need connecting two people. The words sung in a voice rumored to melt hearts.
Her mind drifted to Quentin, and she couldn’t help but glance at the clock on Kit’s wall. Thirty more minutes. An eternity when she had no patience to wait.
Sighing, she turned back to her eyeliners and shadows, choosing a soft taupe-tinted mauve and an outrageously bright gold-flecked pink.
The magic of blending the two colors would take time. The outcome would be stunning. The concentration required would keep her mind in the moment and off the man upstairs. Right now work was her salvation.
She wondered if it would save her later, once Quentin was gone.
MIRACULOUSLY THE SCREENING room was available.
During the week it was booked solid. Usually weekend nights, too, Shandi told Quentin as they shut the door and flipped the switch that would activate the light above it out in the hallway.
Not a guarantee of total privacy, but it would warn others the room was in use.
Quentin would’ve preferred Shandi in his bed, but this should be fun, too. The last time he’d taken in a show was…who knew?
“What are you in the mood for?” she asked, bending down to look through the DVD library stored in a cabinet at the rear of the room. Film screenings for visiting movie-industry types were run from the sliproom located adjacent. “Horror, comedy, drama, mystery, romance?”
“You decide.” He didn’t care what they watched. He was only here because being with her was a hell of a better way to spend his time than alone.
“You sure?” she asked, and he glanced over to see her reading the credits on the back of a storage case. “I don’t even know what you like.”
“Anything.” He couldn’t remember the last movie he’d paid much attention to. Either his mind drifted to work or he let the white noise of the soundtrack lull him to sleep.
He wandered the room while she made her choice, checking out what he could of the sound system. From what he’d learned of the hotel during his stay, the owners of Hush hadn’t scrimped on a thing—the screening room included.
The setup was quality, from the eight-foot-by-four-foot screen to the acoustics to the lighting. The plush crimson-red room and gold deco accents rivaled any he’d seen in the L.A. homes of industry professionals.
“I’ve got it,” Shandi called out, closing up the cabinet after loading her chosen DVD. “You want popcorn or a soda? I can call down to the kitchen.”
He shook his head. “I’m saving room for dinner.”
Shandi glanced at him, then at her watch. “Dinner’s, like, hours away. And that’s if we’re lucky and Armand doesn’t mind covering the last two hours of my shift.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Fine. If I die of starvation between now and then, you have no one but yourself to blame,” she grumbled.
Once they’d settled into two of the reclining theater chairs, choosing to sit in the first row in the center, she used a wireless remote to dim the lighting and start the movie.
Only it wasn’t a movie.
It was a DVD of Hale’s Fallen Angels 2003 world tour.
Quentin glanced over at her where she sat cross-legged in her chair, wide-eyed and riveted by the larger-than-life-size Constantine Hale singing on-screen. “Very funny.”
At that she dissolved into laughter. “Hey, you’re the one who said to pick anything. Besides, how could I resist after hearing Constantine sing in the bar?”
“Uh-huh,” he said and snorted.
“Okay, the truth?” She scooted around, pulling her feet up into the chair and sitting sideways. “It was the name Quentin Marks listed as coproducer that hooked me.”
The intense challenge in her gaze should’ve warned him. He shrugged. “Connie’s idea. I didn’t do a damn thing.”
Shandi narrowed her eyes. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“Because of your suspicious nature?”
“What?” she asked, all huffy and frustrated and waving one arm. “Are you going to deny your involvement in a cool project like this because you think I’ll be more interested in what you’ve done professionally than I am in you?”
“No.” That wasn’t what he was doing. Or if it was, he wasn’t conscious of the reason. “The truth is that I really didn’t do a damn thing. Connie thought my name would help sales of the disc.”
“Right.” She twisted forward and away in her seat again, as if she thought he was holding back juicy secrets he didn’t want her to know. “You just don’t like it that I think Constantine Hale is hot.”
Well, that much was true, even if admitting to his jealousy wasn’t a particularly proud moment. Enlightening, yes. Insightful, ditto.
Because it was also the moment when his feelings for Shandi fell into place.
As unlikely as it seemed, he was tumbling hard and fast. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t scrambling backward to escape.
In fact, he couldn’t keep his smile from taking over his heart as well as his face.
He’d been up in his room watch
ing CNN and rehashing the week’s meetings when she’d called. Hearing her on the phone had taken his mind off everything, had put a new perspective on the way he wanted to be spending his time.
He wanted to be spending it here—or anywhere—as long as he could spend it with her. He’d never realized that when the right woman came along, she’d be equally important to his days as his work, his future, his continued success.
Equally or even more.
Now he had to figure out how to convince her he was serious when he told her he wanted her with him.
The real challenge, though, was how to make it happen when their goals kept them so far apart.
“You’re right,” he finally said, gesturing toward the screen as he teased. “He is hot. I like that thing he does letting his hair fall into his face, then looking out from between the strands.”
Shandi was silent for several seconds before looking over with a scowl and punching him in the shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me.”
Rubbing at the spot of contact, he laughed. “Sweetheart, I only make fun because you make it all so easy. Besides, I’m nuts about you.”
She continued to scowl, though he swore her mouth trembled. “You’re just plain ol’ nuts.”
He wiggled both brows. “Why don’t you come closer and say that?”
“Hmph.” She scooted to the far side of her chair. “If I come closer, you’re going to get me in trouble for inappropriate workplace behavior.”
He held out both hands shoulder high. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to go that far,” she said after considering his terms, crawling over the wide padded arm into his seat where there was room enough for two.
“That’s better,” he said as she tucked herself down beside him.
She cast him a sideways glance. “At least from over here I don’t have to worry that you’re paying more attention to Constantine than to me.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed so loud that he forced Shandi to cover her ears. “I promise, my only interest in Connie is his friendship and his career. You can ogle him all you want.”
Shaking her head and threatening to punch him again, she turned her attention back to the screen, after several minutes asking, “That song he sang last night in the bar. Is the band going to record it?”