CHAPTER NINETEEN
There was nothing like a girls-only lunch to put Carrie into a good mood. Yummy food, excellent wine, and fun conversation. Amy Watson, American actress, had taken Carrie under her wing since she’d moved to London and they’d become fast friends. She and her British husband Mike were good friends with Nate and Max which meant they all spent a great deal of their social time together, so it was fortunate that they got along so well.
“So the red carpet evening was a success?” Amy asked, pushing away her plate. The pizza Carrie had brought had been demolished, nothing but discarded crust in the cardboard box.
“Better than I ever dreamed to hope. Max was actually fun and supportive. I can truthfully say I had a great time.”
Amy tut-tutted. “I hate to say I told you so but I did. Max is a wonderful man. He’s simply tough to get to know. He has all sorts of defense mechanisms that you have to get past. It’s like running a maze that’s booby trapped along the way.”
That was a perfect metaphor for what Carrie had experienced since the day she’d met the famous movie star. She had the singe marks from the explosions to prove it.
“Well, he was a perfect gentleman at the charity fundraiser. We danced and drank champagne, and most importantly of all, we didn’t argue. It was one for the books.”
“I saw the pictures. You looked gorgeous in that dress.”
Carrie had felt gorgeous, which wasn’t a usual state for her. It didn’t hurt that she’d received compliments from total strangers.
“I never would have chosen it because of the color but the stylist was right. I’ll definitely have her dress me for future events.”
They continued chatting about parties and Max. Amy didn’t know that the relationship wasn’t real and she was keen to see two people she liked so much fall in love despite their rocky start. Carrie didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news so she let Amy go on about what a good catch Max was and how he truly was a sweet man. It was only when Amy waggled her eyebrows and gave her a wink that Carrie thought things had gone too far.
“I am not going to talk about that.”
Amy giggled and took another sip of wine. “Come on and help me out. I’m an old married woman who only gets to live vicariously through others these days. I fell asleep at eight-thirty last night. I love my life but I yearn to hear sexy stories about romance and passion.”
“Read a book,” Carrie retorted, blowing out a breath. “Better yet, read one of Paige’s books. I’m just not comfortable discussing that sort of thing.”
Amy leaned forward even though there wasn’t anyone around to hear them. “It’s okay, you can tell me. Lord knows his other girlfriends weren’t so discreet. I doubt you’d say anything that would shock me after all I’ve heard from them.”
Uh, just what had his exes said about him in the sack? She couldn’t ask without Amy figuring out that Carrie hadn’t slept with him yet.
She then had to remind herself that she didn’t want to know either. She wasn’t interested in Max…that way. Even if he had looked incredibly delicious in his tux the other night.
Carrie shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Then you’ve heard it all. I doubt there is anything I could add.”
Eyes narrowing, Amy looked Carrie up and down before her brows flew up and her mouth fell open. “Oh. My. God. You and Max haven’t–”
“Okay,” Carrie interrupted, holding up her hand. “I think this conversation has become way too personal. We need to lay off the wine this early in the day.”
“Honey, it’s okay,” Amy said softly. “Are you…saving yourself?”
Carrie almost asked from what. A marauding band of dinosaurs? Shaking her head, she tried to find a middle ground of telling the truth but not too much of it. She hated lying to people she cared about.
“I am not saving myself. We are just…”
Just what? Not really dating? Definitely not sleeping together? Not attracted to one another?
That would be a humongous lie, at least on her part. Max was a handsome man and a large part of the population thought so as well.
“Taking things slowly?” Amy finished much to Carrie’s relief. “That is so romantic. Max must really think you’re the one to do that. He wants to do this right after the fiasco with Alana.”
Carrie could go with the romantic angle. If this had been a real love match it would truly have been special and sweet for Max to take things slowly with her.
But it wasn’t, so special was out the window. It was a great explanation though.
“Yes, we’re trying not to rush into things. Let the relationship progress at its own pace and not push. He’s been through hell with the divorce and I think we both need to be cautious.”
Amy nodded. “I know you were engaged not long ago too. I think you two are so wise. It’s going to make it really amazing when it finally happens. I bet Max will pull out all the stops when it’s time. Candles, flowers, champagne, an expensive hotel in an exotic locale. He’s such a hopeless romantic. You lucky girl. Mine and Mike’s first time was on my couch while my roommate was at the movies.”
Max a hopeless romantic? Was this one of the things his ex-girlfriends had told Amy? It didn’t mesh with the oftentimes remote and cold facade that he wore but she knew that was a big put on. He had a soft heart and she’d seen glimpses of it. He kept it locked pretty deep though so gold-digging actresses like Alana wouldn’t get to it.
“I have no idea what he has planned,” Carrie replied honestly. “He’s an enigma.”
“You and Max are going to do great. I know you two have had your ups and downs but this shows great maturity on his part. Has he said I love you yet?”
The peal of the doorbell saved Carrie from having to answer. Amy slapped her forehead and groaned, levering out of her chair. “I completely forgot. Tyler’s stopping by to pick up the key to our little flat in Paris. He’s spending a few days there doing some movie promotion and he hates hotels. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Tyler Gaylord?”
Amy hurried toward the front door. “One and the same.”
The man was everywhere, although Carrie shouldn’t be shocked. He was close friends with her friends which meant she was going to see him now and then.
If Carrie had thought he would hang out on the porch or in the foyer, she was wrong. He followed Amy into the kitchen, leaning against the counter while she retrieved a set of keys from a drawer.
“Just remember that the water in the shower takes a few minutes to heat up.”
Accepting the key ring from Amy, Tyler turned his attention to Carrie. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Red. How have you been?”
Normally she hated when people called out her bright hair color but there was something about the way he said it that made it sound like a compliment instead of a way to get a cheap laugh at her expense.
“Busy. How about you?”
“The same. I’ve been doing some voiceover work and can I tell you a secret? I’m sick of listening to myself. How can anyone stand to hear me speak?”
Amy sighed loudly. “I’ve been saying that for years.”
Hands over his heart, he groaned dramatically. “Dear lady, you wound me.”
Rolling her eyes, Amy held up the wine bottle in offering. “I couldn’t dent that ego of yours with a magic sword so don’t try that ‘poor me’ routine. Carrie doesn’t buy it either. Now do you want a glass?”
He shook his head. “I’ll have to pass. I have a meeting with an interviewer this afternoon. They want to ask me questions I’ve answered a hundred times before.”
Amy pretended to choke. “Fame is so hard, you poor, put-upon sex symbol.”
His grin widened. “When you put it like that…”
Carrie checked her watch. “Yikes, it is getting late. I have a conference call with the States in an hour that I need to prepare for.”
“You’re both leaving me? I’ll have to drink all of this wine by myself.”
Amy gave her a hug and all three of them drifted toward the door. “Call me and we’ll see a movie this weekend.”
“Can I come too or is this a girl-only thing?” Tyler asked, tongue in cheek. Surely he had girls lined up for miles waiting to date him?
“Girls only,” Carrie replied firmly. “Besides, won’t you be in Paris?”
He held up the key. “I will but when I get back let’s get the whole group together and go dancing.”
Amy’s eyes lit up. “Like last time?”
He nodded. “Like last time. Now how about a hug?”
Launching herself into Tyler’s arms, Amy giggled as he swung her around in the air before setting her on her feet to open the front door. He stepped back so Carrie could exit first and then followed as they descended the porch steps. He turned back to Amy who was waving goodbye.
“Don’t forget we’re all going out when I get back. Mark it on your calendar. That first Friday night after.”
Amy closed the door behind her leaving Carrie with Tyler.
“I’m afraid to ask about the last time you went dancing. Amy seems pretty excited about it.”
Tyler laughed and led the way down the path to the gate. “I rented out a big nightclub so we had the place to ourselves. The stories from that evening will go down in legend. You’ll see for yourself this next time.”
Carrie’s brow shot up. “Now I’m really afraid. Legendary, huh? An epic story for the generations?”
“Ask your boyfriend,” Tyler suggested. “He’d remember. You’re still with Max, right?”
Suddenly shy, Carrie pulled her phone from her purse and pretended to check her messages. “Still with Max.”
“He’s a lucky man.”
That voice. He might be tired of hearing it but the world wasn’t. It made her look up into his intense blue eyes. She could never figure Tyler out. One minute he was casual and friendly and the next flirty and seductive. Carrie found him attractive but she wasn’t attracted to him. There was a difference. Now Max…he was another story.
“Thank you. I’ll let him know.”
Stepping closer, Tyler’s head dipped so his lips were close to her ear.
“He knows. See you later, Red.”
Carrie would have laughed in Tyler’s face but he’d already turned and strode down the street. He had Max and her all wrong. It was all make-believe.
A fact she’d do well not to ever forget. Not for one minute.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Max watched as two of his fellow actors worked out a scene on stage while the rest of the cast studied their scripts, caught up with messages, or had a cup of tea. The excitement was beginning to build as they neared opening night but the first real hurdles would be the preliminary performances to shake out any bugs in the production.
“Here’s your tea.” Gemma was right at his elbow acting like the other night hadn’t happened, which was fine with him. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about her feelings. “I also picked up a paper for you.”
He accepted the tea but balked at the tabloid she was holding out. Another piece of trash not even good enough to wrap fish in. “I’ll pass on the reading material.”
She smirked, only pushing it closer to him. “I think you might find it interesting.”
Close to losing his patience, his grip tightened on the back of the metal chair. “What could possibly be interesting in that rag?”
Gemma let the folded paper drop onto the chair next to him. “I just thought you’d like see the pictures of Carrie and Tyler Gaylord. Now excuse me. I have to make some calls.”
Whirling around, his assistant was gone in a blur of her brightly colored clothing. With a growl he fell back into his chair and reached for the tabloid, hastily paging through it until he found what she’d been referring to.
Fuck.
Carrie. Tyler. Standing outside a black wrought iron gate. Tyler was leaning down whispering something intimate in Carrie’s ear and she was smiling about it. The headline was as nauseating as the photos.
Has Max’s bird flown the coop?
Was Carrie spending her days making a fool of him while he worked his ass off on this new play? The photos showed them in a cozy position, that was for damn sure.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Every break he had in rehearsal, he found himself looking at those photos over and over again as if picking at a scab. Intellectually he was pissed off because she was supposed to be in a showmance with him, letting people know he wasn’t heartbroken. But he couldn’t deny that his feelings – those pesky things – were involved here. He hated to admit it but it…hurt. Seeing Carrie and Tyler so close to each other wasn’t something he enjoyed. They both looked happy, but not in love. Whatever their relationship was it hadn’t gone that far. Yet. Max didn’t think they’d slept together either but he was no expert.
It was with great trepidation that he stomped up Carrie’s front steps that evening and pounded on the door. Things had been going so well but he was angry and they were sure to argue. They’d had no definite plans to see each other tonight but this couldn’t wait. He’d had to call his publicist to try and get the pictures pulled down from several websites that had picked them up, which had only stoked his emotions even higher. She’d better have a damn good explanation for making him look like a fool in front of millions of people. It was her job to keep that from happening.
The door flew open and Carrie stood there in her pajamas, lavender with little puppies scattered all over. Her long hair was pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head and a pair of spectacles were balanced on her pert nose. She looked innocently adorable and some of the anger leaked out of him like the air in a balloon.
“Max, did we have plans?” She tucked a pencil behind her ear. “I don’t have anything written down.”
He brandished the paper he’d been clutching in his hand in front of her face, frantically trying to get his righteous anger back despite how cute she looked. “We don’t but we definitely need to have a discussion about this.”
For a moment she didn’t move, her eyes narrowed as she studied him. He shifted on his feet under her scrutiny but eventually she stepped back and opened the door wider.
“Then you better come in and tell me all about it. Can I get you a beer?”
He could definitely use a drink. “I’d rather a whiskey if you have it.”
“Nate has everything. Just have a seat and I’ll get it.”
He sat stiffly, feeling out of place when he was so angry and she was so calm. Like she had nothing to feel guilty about, but she’d caused a mountain of trouble with those pictures.
He accepted the glass and held out the newspaper. “You might find this of interest. I know I did.”
Sitting next to him, she gingerly opened the paper as if there might be a nasty spider hidden within its depths. She’d see the photos immediately. He’d made sure that he’d folded it just right so they would be on top.
“I’m not sure I see what’s so fascinating in here. Just pictures of me and Tyler from lunch yesterday.”
Aha. She wasn’t bothering to deny it.
“So you admit that you were with Tyler Gaylord?”
She gave him some serious side eye for a guilty woman. “Are you suggesting these were Photoshopped? Of course I admit I was with Tyler. He invited us to a party when he gets back to London, something I forgot to tell you last night.”
He took a sip of whiskey and held it on his tongue, enjoying the smooth flavor before letting it slide down his throat. “You two certainly look cozy.”
It was a statement meant to get a reaction but she didn’t look up from the photos for a long moment. When she finally did, her normally soft brown eyes had turned dark and cold.
“If you have something to say, Hamlet, spit it out. Don’t do this passive-aggressive shit with me. Li
ft up your balls, insert your spine, and tell me what your problem is or get out. Those are your two choices.”
He didn’t have to put up with that tone. He was the wronged party here.
“I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. As for my problem, right now these pictures are my problem. They’re everywhere and my PR people are trying to get them pulled down. You ought to be more discreet when going out to meet your lover.”
* * *
Carrie had to almost wrestle herself to the floor to keep from smacking the ever-loving crap out of Maxwell Hayes, movie asshole extraordinaire. She took several deep breaths before she trusted herself to respond with words only and not a knuckle sandwich.
“Are you insinuating that I am sleeping with Tyler? Because you couldn’t be more wrong, Max.”
He poked at the photo with his finger. “Photos don’t lie, Carrie.”
Laughter bubbled up at his pompous, self-righteous statement. “That’s bullshit and you of all people know it. Pictures lie all the time. Do you want the truth behind these photos or are you happy that you’ve caught me doing something bad so you can have the morally superior highroad?”
Max could be a total jerk at times. This was one of them. If he’d come in here and simply asked her what was going on with these photos she would have been happy to tell him. But no. He had to be a douchebag and now they were back to square one.
“The truth,” he said, his teeth gritted. “Of course.”
She tossed the crumpled paper on the coffee table. “I had lunch with Amy yesterday.”
“I know that,” he said a trifle impatiently. “What does that have to do with the pictures?”
“That’s Amy’s house we’re standing in front of. Tyler stopped by to get the key to their Paris flat. He and I left at the same time and he walked me to the gate. He went left and I went right. That’s it. No big messy affair, I’m afraid. You must be so disappointed not to be the victim in this scenario.”
Swinging On A Star Page 12