by DeSalvo, Kim
“No, I’m definitely not going back in there,” he chuckled.
“It’s still pretty early for a Friday night though,” she said glancing at her watch, “and I imagine you don’t get too many chances to be alone, and I just would feel horrible if I ruined your night out. So, if you’re still looking to have some fun—well, I wouldn’t have called that place fun, but whatever—if you go down this road about five miles to Central Avenue,” she pointed, “and hang a right, there’re a few places there where you could disappear into a crowd, especially this time on a long weekend. There’s a Dick’s Sports Page, a karaoke bar—called, of all things, Sing-Along-Cassidy’s—a kind of a biker bar called Crowbar, and a very nice Irish Pub called Paddy’s.”
“OK, well thanks,” he said, bowing his head appreciatively. “It is early yet. Maybe I’ll try that—Central Avenue, you said?”
“Yep. Turn right. The bars start about a mile and a half down the road, and they’re all kind of bunched together so you can’t miss them.”
“Appreciate the advice,” he said with another polite bow.
“It’s definitely the least I can do,” she gushed. “I’m so sorry I messed up your evening, but I’m also so glad you were there. You’re my hero, Chester.” She grinned at him then and shook her head. “Damn, no one’ll ever believe this story! I don’t know if I even believe it!” Although she thought it would be really amazing to stand around and have a conversation with Dylan Miller, she didn’t want to push her luck hanging around Last Stop and didn’t want to sound like a blathering idiot. She was painfully out of practice when it came to talking to men, and this was not the kind of guy you practiced on. She felt a blush rise in her face, and decided it was time to go and let him have his peace. He’d already done more than he needed to do, and she of all people understood the need for solitude. “Listen, it was…really amazing to meet you. And I meant what I said inside—your music has done more for me than you can ever know. Thanks for that, too. Now I’ve taken up entirely too much of your time and I should…” She turned and motioned toward the other side of the street.
He reached out impulsively and put his hand on her arm. She felt her pulse quicken just at the light touch. This was Dylan Miller! He’d just saved her from who knows what, and they were standing out here on a deserted street having a real conversation—Lexi would freak! She’d have to call her as soon as she put this awful place behind her—she’d been so adamant that Tia avoid Last Stop, but once she heard about this chance encounter, she was going to be positively green with envy. Right now though, she should really just get out of here and let him be. He was probably sick of people constantly wanting to be around him, hence the disguise.
“At least let me walk you to your car. I wouldn’t want Bud to pop his head out to see if you’re still around.”
“Actually, it’s right there,” she said, motioning across the street to her Mini, “so you already have.” She made it to the curb and then turned back. “Hey—thanks again, I’m sorry again, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Dylan stopped. “What’s that?”
“I said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’” Dylan looked confused, so Tia continued. “At your concert? I’ve had my ticket for weeks. I’m really looking forward to it. You guys always put on an excellent show—I go see you every time you’re in town.”
He smiled. “Really? Well, I appreciate that too.”
“I’ll wave to you,” she laughed.
This woman had personality, he thought, taking the bait. “And where will you be,” he asked, “so I can be sure to wave back?”
“Second pavilion, section 209, row 14.”
“Pretty crappy seats.”
Tia put her hands on her hips and nodded. “I thought so too. I would have thought that being a member of the fan club would warrant me better. I’ve been a member since it started, and have never once gotten any really good seats. You should really look into that—the lottery system sucks.”
He did this thing where he raised just one eyebrow—it made him look inquisitive and incredibly sexy at the same time and it drove the girls wild. “I’ll have to look into that. You’re right, loyal fans like you should do much better.”
“How about this, if I could be so bold?” she suggested. “Maybe, say at the beginning of the third song, you could give me some kind of signal, like a peace sign, or two fingers pointed in my direction, and I’ll know it’s for me.”
“A peace sign?” he smirked, that one eyebrow rising again. “I think maybe I can do a little better than that. How about I dedicate the third song to you? Then everyone’ll know it’s for you. I’ll play it for Francine.”
“I like that even better. It’ll certainly make my story about tonight a little more believable, although I’m still not sure I even believe it. What a crazy night! It couldn’t be more different than I expected.”
She skipped across the street, opened her car door and turned back. “Listen, Dylan Miller, I can never thank you enough for what you did for me tonight, but I’ll never have another chance so I’m going to say it one more time. Thanks.” She put her hands together below her chin as if in prayer and bowed slightly. “And have a good rest of the evening. Try to keep that tattoo covered so you don’t get mugged by girls at the next bar.”
Dylan watched as the light from the car illuminated her. She really was a pretty girl. Away from the shadows of the bar he could see her high cheekbones, her creamy skin, her pouty lips. As she slipped into the car he stood there for a moment, amazed and confused. After the crazy experience they’d just shared, she’d really just been thankful. She didn’t ask for an autograph, or a picture, and didn’t whip out a cell phone to get a picture of the two of them together. She didn’t ask to join him, and didn’t ask for front row seats or backstage passes for her and her friends. It was kind of unheard of in his world, and it caught him off guard. It always seemed like everyone wanted something from him; it was the nature of the beast. He stood there, surprised as she closed her car door and started the engine. She really was going to just drive away. Suddenly, impulsively, he didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t meet real people very often, and the bizarre conversation he’d just had with her was the most normal one he’d had with a stranger in a very long time.
He sprinted across the street and knocked on her window just as she was pulling away. She jumped in her seat and put her hand to her chest; not an unexpected reaction after the chaos in the bar. She hit the brake, threw the car in park, and rolled down the window, a question on her face.
He leaned casually against the roof of the car and slouched in front of the window. “Hey. I still didn’t get your name.”
She looked up from her seat at his carelessly easy pose. He emanated manliness, she thought, and her stomach turned a little flip. She smiled up at him. “Tia,” she said. She stuck her hand out the window and he shook it again.
“Nice to meet you, Tia.”
“Really nice to meet you too, Dylan,” her smile literally seemed to brighten. “Really nice.”
He held on to her hand, and hesitated only for a second before extending the invitation. “So, I was thinking. No sense both of us having our evenings cut short or being alone on such a beautiful night. What do you say we continue the evening, together but anonymous, at a different location?”
She hesitated for a second, and he saw the brief flash of doubt in her eyes. Again, she surprised him—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman not instantly jump at the chance to be with him, and he was sure that a good number of them only wanted to be able to tell their friends that they had been with Dylan Miller. Instead of irritating him, however, her indecision intrigued him more.
“Wow,” she breathed. “Wow.” She’d never have a chance like this again, she thought, spending time with a guy like Dylan Miller. But more than that, she thought, how many chances would she have to just talk with a man who probably wouldn’t remember her after tonight, even if she made a total m
ess of things with her complete lack of practice in dealing with the opposite sex? God knew she needed the practice, but certainly an international superstar was not what she expected to use to brush up on her flirting skills. Still, how could she pass up a chance like this? She was petrified and excited at the same time and once again, thoughts of Nick flashed in her mind. She could almost physically feel him pushing her, and knew that he’d be absolutely furious with her if she passed up the chance to spend time with one of their shared idols.
She hesitated before she spoke, and her words faltered. “There’s a big part of me that wants to take you up on your offer, and another part that says that I’ve already had more than my share of excitement for the evening.”
Her answer knocked him back, made him more determined. “But the part that wants to come out with me is bigger, right?” He smiled the smile that made him famous, another one that graced the covers of many a magazine. It lit up his entire face and made his blue eyes flash like deep water.
She smiled back and lowered her eyes. “Yeah, that part’s bigger,” she admitted shyly.
Dylan’s mind reeled. He couldn’t believe he’d have to convince her, and he kind of liked doing it. In his world, he never knew if people were being straight with him. Most people just tended to agree with every word he said so as not to fall out of his good graces, and it drove him absolutely mad. He welcomed the opportunity to have a real conversation with a good-looking woman who didn’t seem to want anything from him except his company—and only part of her even wanted that. His manhood had been challenged for the first time in a long time, and he rose to meet it.
“What could happen?” he shrugged. “I’m your fearless protector, remember? And since I’ve already saved you from one evil cowboy tonight, you should feel completely safe. Besides, I owe you a drink, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t pay my debts. Especially to damsels in distress.”
“Believe me,” she said, “it’s not about feeling safe. I’d feel perfectly safe with you.” She pondered for just a moment longer. What the hell? How could she pass up this opportunity? “And I guess I can’t be responsible for giving you a guilt trip.” She smiled up at him and nodded her head. “OK, let’s go. Hop in.”
“Great!”
He grinned at her again, and she could see the superstar in his smile. Even with the horrible hair, he was an incredible looking man—tall, sexy, confident—and the hint of British accent in his smoky voice was smooth enough to spread on bread. She smiled to herself as he ran around the front of the car and jumped into the passenger seat.
He climbed in and wondered in the back of his mind if she’d eventually get around to asking him for front row seats. In the front of his mind, he hoped she wouldn’t.
Chapter 4
Penelope Valentine stood and examined her naked body in front of the long mirror. Not perfect yet, but another couple months with Jean Phillipe and she’d be back in movie shape. It had been a long hard six months—her latest film a flop at the box office, bad press, that bastard Jason Whitten dumping her for that wanna-be Italian supermodel, more bad press—then a few months of seclusion where she refused to take any calls and ate whatever she wanted. Oh, and she drank way too much. It was going to take another minor procedure to get rid of the little red veins that streaked across her cheeks.
But she was on a comeback, and her luck had finally turned. It was time to get back on the fast-track again; time to make her grand entrance back into the Hollywood limelight. She was lucky to nab the starring role as Anastasia in Ambient Rain—she knew two other actresses had passed on the role because of prior commitments—but she didn’t let that bother her. Well, maybe a little. She hadn’t read the book or the script, but knew that it had spent quite a few months on the New York Times Bestseller List. Plus, when she found out who her co-star was, she knew it was the perfect role for her comeback. Dylan Miller wasn’t the biggest actor in Hollywood, and spent much of his time touring with his band, but he was good, and his last two movies had gotten rave reviews, as had he. He was just what she needed to get back on her feet—successful, adored, and incredibly good looking. He was on the cover of the Sexiest People on Earth issue of Person to Person last year—she was also in the issue, although a little further back. Dylan was much better looking than that rat bastard Jason, as a matter of fact, and with a little work on her part, they could be the perfect Hollywood couple.
It didn’t hurt, either, that they’d be filming in New Zealand with a little hop over to Bora Bora. They couldn’t be further from Hollywood there, and Bora Bora, in her opinion, was the most romantic place on the planet. After a few months together, they could be the next hot thing—Dylanope, or some stupid mix of their names that the tabloids could put on their covers, and she’d be back on top of her game.
She ran her hands over her nearly flat stomach. Jean Phillipe was a miracle worker, that was certain, but it hadn’t been easy. A private chef, daily workouts, stress management—it was all part of the plan. She’d follow it to the letter, though, because it was her ticket back to the fame and adoration that she couldn’t live without.
Her mind ran back to Dylan Miller. Sexiest Man on Earth, she thought, and if her memory served her, he was on tour right now with his band. She slid into a silk kimono and sat down at her desk. In the deep side drawer, she kept her extensive collection of magazines in which she’d appeared so she could pull them out and look at them anytime she wanted. She pulled out the “Sexiest Stars” issue with Dylan on the cover, and another magazine graced by her own face. It was a picture taken on Oscar night, three years ago, and if she did say so herself, she was stunning. Her dress was a DeHoya, made exclusively for her, and it perfectly accentuated her figure and the new breasts she’d splurged on six months earlier. The neckline plunged daringly, and she dripped in borrowed diamonds. They’d given her ‘best dressed’ honors that night and although she hadn’t won the Oscar, she’d been the darling of the after parties. She held the two covers next to each other to see how they’d look as a couple. He oozed masculinity--the faint scruff on his chin and cheeks, the longish, wavy, carelessly unkempt blonde hair, the incredible blue and expressiveness of his eyes rimmed in long dark lashes, a firm jaw line. He wore what could almost be called a pout and his lips looked made for kissing. They would look good together, and as a couple they would knock Jason and that Italian slut off the covers of the magazines. She flipped through the issue until she came to Dylan’s photo spread. Great smile too, she thought, and the picture of him singing on stage clearly showed the passion he had for music. She held up several combinations of the two of them together, and liked what she saw. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get started on reclaiming her place at the top.
She booted up her computer and checked out his web site, scrolling through more photos and reading his bio. She had to do her homework, know a little about him, so that when they met they’d be able to slide effortlessly into a relationship. That’s how things work in Hollywood she thought, relationships were more about appearances than they were about love. Love was overrated, anyway—it was all just an act, really, and she knew how to act. A guy like Dylan Miller would be easy enough to wake up to every morning, and everyone seemed to love him. He never got bad press, and being attached to someone like him would soften the hard edges she’d acquired over the years. Her excitement mounted as she read—they even had a few things in common besides acting.
She checked their tour schedule, and figured, why wait? Let’s get this party started as soon as possible. One call to her assistant Angela and the arrangements were already being made. Chicago wasn’t too bad at this time of year. Not warm yet, but a few sessions in the tanning booth and she’d have a healthy glow that would look great against the fish-belly-white Chicagoans who’d been covered up all winter.
She’d just show up at the concert and surprise him with the news that she’d be his costar. The studio wasn’t planning to make the announcement until the following week, s
o he’d hear it first from her, and it would be a valid excuse to show up at his concert unannounced. Obviously he’d show her the professional courtesy of meeting her, and then the romance could begin.
She drew herself a bath, pinned her long blonde hair on top of her head, and slipped into the luxurious salts harvested straight from the Dead Sea that Jean Phillipe had insisted she buy. Good for the skin, he’d said in his obnoxious French accent. Rid your body of impurities. Hell, she’d just rid her life of impurities, and she was ready for a fresh start. Just a few days to primp, and then it was off to the Windy City, and her new lease on life.
Chapter 5
“So, where are we going?” Tia asked.
“Are you up for some adventure and a little fun?” Dylan answered with his slightly crooked smirk and slightly cocky accent.
“After what just happened in Last Stop? I don’t know if I need any more adventure, but the fun part sounds good. What’d you have in mind?”
“I thought we’d hit Sing-Along Cassidy’s.”
She looked him up and down and laughed. “Yeah, your mullet’ll probably fit in there. Actually, though, I do have somewhat of a reputation to uphold in this town. Any chance you have another disguise in your pocket? One a little less…obnoxious?”
“Nah,” he smiled. “I’m sportin’ this look tonight. Deal with it, sister.”
She’d deal with it. Absolutely she’d deal with it. She was surprised that he seemed like such a nice, normal guy, and she was completely taken aback that she felt so comfortable with him right off the bat. That was part of being famous, she guessed. Everyone thought they knew you. “Oh, alright,” she said with mock disappointment in her voice. “Let’s do it then,” she laughed, and threw the car in gear.
“So, if you’re a fan, you know some of my music, right?” Dylan asked as they were seated in a corner booth a good distance from the main stage.