by M. S. Force
“You’re very satisfied in your life. You love your job, your kids, your roommate and your new life in the city. If you get involved with me, your life will change in ways you can’t imagine.”
“What sort of ways?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“For one thing, the paparazzi will stalk you, and when I say stalk you, I mean they will be relentless. They’ll take photos and print lies about you. They’ll tear apart your clothes, your hair, your past.”
I take a sip of my drink, and we both notice the tremble of my hand. My past is buried so deep, it’ll never be uncovered, but that doesn’t mean the thought of being pursued doesn’t terrify me, because it does. I didn’t do anything wrong in that situation, so it’s not like I have something to be ashamed of. But I’m ashamed nonetheless, and I’d hate for him or any of my other new friends to know about my past.
“What else?” I ask.
“That’s not enough to scare you away?”
“I’d like to have all the information before I decide.”
He tips his head again, something I’m coming to recognize as one of his charming characteristics. It conveys interest and a sense that I’m the only person in his universe, even when I know that’s so far from true. “There’re women who will say things, do things, infer things… You’ll always be wondering. Is what he says true? Is he leading me on? Is he lying? She has pictures… She must know something I don’t know.”
“That’s a tough one.”
“It was a deal breaker for the last woman I cared about. She believed everything that was said and written about me. I got tired of defending myself.”
“I can see how that would get old fast.”
“It does. I like to think I’m a trustworthy person.”
“Have you ever done something while in a relationship that you’re not proud of?”
After a long pause, he says, “Yes. When I was married. I told you she cheated on me.”
I nod.
He blows out a deep breath. “I was so furious and hurt and embarrassed. People tried to warn me away from her, but I was blind and in love and stupid. So stupid. I cheated on her after she did it to me.”
“Did you feel better after?”
Laughing, he says, “No. I felt worse because I let her make me into someone I didn’t even recognize, but what I did is on me, not her. I did it. I knew what I was doing. And it was all about revenge. I slept with her friend and made sure she found out about it.”
“Ouch.”
“Not my finest moment.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“And this is why you’ve said you never want to be married again?”
“Part of it. Yeah.” He tightens his grip on my hand. “I want to say something here, but I’m so afraid it’ll sound insincere or ridiculous or even counterproductive to my effort to warn you off me.”
“That was quite an intro.”
I love the deep grooves in his cheeks that form when he gifts me with one of those genuine smiles that made him a superstar.
“What do you want to say?”
“Remember I’m being totally sincere here.”
“Got it.”
“Since I met you and spent time with you and then tried—unsuccessfully, it seems—to walk away from you, I don’t feel so… certain… that I’ll never get married again.”
“You sure know how to make a girl all fluttery inside, Flynn.”
He raises a brow. “Are you fluttery?”
“On the inside.”
Leaning in to close the distance between us, he says, “I’d really like to kiss you again.”
“I’d really like you to kiss me again.”
“Right now?”
“Now would be good.” I wonder who this confident, adventuresome person is. She’s been gone such a long time, I barely recognize her.
With his hands on my face, he draws me into another of those sizzling kisses that make my head spin. I love the way his hands feel on my face, the tender, cautious way he kisses me, as if I’m something precious and priceless. This kiss is more intense than the first one, maybe because we’re alone and not standing on a public street.
Then I feel the press of his tongue against my lips, and I can’t think about anything other than how amazing it feels to be held and kissed by him. He stands and brings me with him, my arms curling around his neck as I lean into him and the kiss. I can’t seem to get close enough.
“Natalie,” he whispers.
It takes a second for his words to permeate the fog I’m in after kissing him.
He takes my hand and leads me to the sofa. We sit close to each other, and he kisses me again. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.”
“How about this?” He slips his tongue between my lips and rubs it against mine, making me moan. “Is that a yes?”
“Mmm.”
“I need the word.”
“Yes, Flynn. Yes!”
When he smiles, his eyes light up. “I need to be sure in light of your…previously stated…limitations.”
“I said no sex. I never said a word about kissing.”
“So kissing is good?” His lips touch mine as he speaks.
“Kissing is very, very good.” It might be the best thing ever.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
I can’t get close enough to him. I want to be absorbed by him, consumed. I’ve never wanted that before. If anything, I’ve kept my distance for reasons that are mine and mine alone. Then he breaks the kiss and moves to my neck, his lips setting me on fire.
“So I haven’t succeeded in warning you away,” he says.
“I’d say you’ve failed miserably.”
“Thank God.” He kisses me again with deep sweeps of his tongue that have me on the verge of begging for something I said I didn’t want. “Come to LA with me, Natalie. Come be with me. I want you next to me, holding my hand when they read my name.”
“Flynn…” I’m tempted. So very, very tempted.
“I told them I’m bringing a date.” His teeth close over my earlobe, and I feel it in every nerve ending. “You aren’t going to leave me high and dry, are you?”
I draw back from him so I can see his face. “You said you weren’t going to call me, and yet you still planned to take me to the Golden Globes?”
“What can I say? I’m a hopeful person. And then when I got your text yesterday and knew I would see you again, I hoped I could talk you into coming. I saw that text as a sign.”
“So even as you try to warn me off you, you’re scheming to get me to LA.”
“Yes, I’m guilty as charged. I figure if you have all the facts, you can make an informed decision.”
“And I have all the facts now?”
“Except for one.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you after our very special evening on Saturday. I’m sorry I let someone else’s opinion sway me when the only thing that should’ve mattered is what I know to be true—you’re special, and I want a chance with you.”
Chapter 8
I hold my breath while I wait for her to answer me. I wouldn’t blame her for saying no after what I’ve told her about my life and what to expect if she spends time with me.
“Tell me the truth,” she says.
“Always.” I ignore the alarm bells from my brain, reminding me of the secrets I am keeping from her.
“The thing with the media… How bad will it be?”
“It could get pretty bad. They’ll dig for dirt, and if they don’t find any, they’ll make it up. You’re apt to have problems with your job if they decide the attention is too much of a distraction. You’ll be defending yourself against accusations that aren’t even true.”
“All that from one night out with you?”
“All that and maybe more.” I wish I didn’t have to make her aware of these things, but I have to be fair. They’re the realities I live with every d
ay. Celebrity is a dicey business in the age of the twenty-four-hour news cycle. It’s my life. I’m used to it, but I won’t expose her without making her aware of the potential fallout.
“You make it sound like I’d be crazy to go with you.”
“You would be, but I still hope you’ll come anyway.”
“There are things… about me… that I don’t talk about. Ever. To anyone.”
“Are these things that would come out if the press were to dig into your life?”
She shakes her head. “I was someone else then. I’m not that person anymore.”
I want to ask her to explain. I want to be the one she tells, but I’d never ask her for more than she’s willing to give. I’ve already figured out that pushing her outside her comfort zone is the fastest way to push her away.
“Then other than the potential for a huge distraction and massive hubbub that I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from, it’ll be like any other date.”
She tosses her head back and laughs, and I fall in love with the sound of her laughter. It’s lusty and genuine and gorgeous, just like her. I want to make her laugh every day just so I can enjoy the delightful sound. “Like any other date, huh?”
“Like any other date that includes designer attire, a few camera flashes, a couple of celebrities here and there, lots of parties.” He shrugs. “No biggie.”
“Just another night in Tinseltown for you.”
“It won’t be like any other night if you’re with me.”
“You’re good. I’ve got to give you that.”
“Is that a ‘Yes, Flynn, I’d love to go to LA with you and be your date to the Golden Globes’?”
“That’s a yes, Flynn, I’d really like to go to LA, but—”
I groan loudly and throw myself back against the sofa. I’m being silly and dramatic. “I hate the word but. I’ve never hated a word more than I hate that one.”
“But,” she says, smiling, “I want to make sure I can get the time off before I commit.”
“Ugh, you’re killing me. When will you know?”
“I’ll ask tomorrow.”
“How will I survive until then?”
“You weren’t going to call me, which means you were going to survive the whole rest of your life without me in it. Remember that?”
“We’re going to forget all about that.” After two hours with her, I understand I was crazy to follow Hayden’s advice. The more time I spend with her, the more I want her. I want her to be mine. It doesn’t matter that I might not be good for her. I can be someone different for her. I’ll be anyone she needs me to be if it means I get to have her in my life.
I’ve never had these sorts of thoughts about any woman. Ever. I ought to be scared shitless, but I’m not. I’m exhilarated by her and determined to show her the time of her life in Hollywood.
She leans her head against the back of the sofa and studies me intently.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” she says, releasing that husky, sexy laugh that makes me hard every damned time. That laugh is dangerous and potent.
I’m thinking about kissing her again when my stomach lets out an obnoxious growl.
“Someone is hungry,” she says.
“We need food. What do you feel like tonight?”
“You don’t have to feed me. I need to get home to let Fluff out anyway.”
“We could go to your place, take Fluff for a walk and then grab something in your neighborhood.”
She seems incredulous. “You want to take Fluff for a walk.”
“Well, I want to spend more time with you, and she’s part of the package, so yes, I’d like to take Fluff for a walk.”
“What if she bites you again?”
“I’m willing to take my chances. It’s important that Fluff get used to me, because I’m going to be around. A lot.”
“Are you?”
“If you’ll have me.” I reach for her hand, and she curls her fingers around mine. “Shall we go?”
“How do we get out of here without the photographers seeing us?”
“I’ll show you.”
When he emerges from his bedroom wearing dark sunglasses and one of those fur hats that Soviet KGB officers were known for during the Cold War, I laugh so hard that tears run down my face. “I want a picture of that.”
“Not happening. There’s a Russian diplomat in the building. He’s about twenty years older than me, but his build is somewhat similar to mine. The hat hides his gray hair. Every time I leave the building wearing this, they think I’m him and they leave me alone.”
“Does he know you’ve stolen his identity?”
“Shhh, no. Don’t tell.” He holds my coat for me and then pulls the hood up and over my head, enveloping me in a cave of obscurity. “That ought to do it.” Then he goes to the phone by the elevator and asks the doorman to get us a cab. The whole thing is handled so smoothly and competently that I begin to see the advantage of celebrity. People do things for you simply because you ask them to.
We make a clean escape from the building into a waiting cab. The photographers camped outside the main door are too busy smoking and bullshitting to notice their prey has escaped undetected.
“That was awesome, Mr. Gorbachev. Well played.”
“Avoiding them is a game I’ve gotten rather good at over the years.” He removes the hat and waggles his brows. “Wait until you see my other disguises.”
“I look forward to that.” I look forward to everything now that I know I’ll see him again after today, now that I’ve committed to what promises to be a magical weekend in LA. Excitement courses through my body, making my nerves hum with anticipation. I’ve never felt more alive in my life than I do with him sitting next to me, holding my hand. I wonder if he’ll kiss me again before the evening is over.
I hope so.
After a slow trek through rush-hour traffic, we arrive at my place. As we head up the stairs, I wonder if Leah is home and what sort of scene she’ll make when she sees Flynn. I can hear Fluff going nuts in the apartment. “Are you ready for this?” I ask him.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Here goes.” I open the door, and Fluff goes into her usual tizzy at the sight of me, but when Flynn comes in behind me, she loses her composure immediately, growling and snapping and hissing. I’ve never seen her behave this way. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Fluff! Stop it!”
Flynn takes it in stride, his expression showing amusement even as he keeps his distance from the growling ball of fur.
I snap a leash on her and have to nearly drag her to the door, which is another first. She usually bounds for the door.
Flynn puts his KGB hat back on and follows at an understandable distance as we go downstairs. On the street, Fluff looks up at him, and the hat sends her into another fit of rage.
“I think she’s afraid you’re wearing one of her relatives on your head.”
He laughs and takes hold of my free hand.
I love the easy, casual way he does that, as if we’ve been holding hands forever. It feels natural to me, like my hand belongs wrapped up in his. It’s absolutely freezing, so we stay out only long enough for Fluff to do her business.
Flynn takes the plastic bag from me and cleans up after her.
“That’s way above and beyond the call of duty in light of her treatment of you.”
“I like to think I’m a gentleman toward all women, even the shrewish ones.”
He’s got the market cornered on charm, that’s for sure. Because I can’t stop laughing at the hat, he playfully refuses to go out with me, so we end up ordering Thai and having it delivered. That’s more than fine with me since I’ve had enough of the icy cold. Other than Fluff’s continuing hostility toward Flynn, we have a great night together, but the whole time we’re on the sofa watching mindless TV, I’m thinking about kissing him and wondering if it will happen again.
How have I gone from wan
ting no man to touch me again—ever—to wanting this man with a fervor that surprises and astounds me? It’s like the last eight years never happened and I’m back to being who I was before my life was shattered. Is it possible that I’ve actually recovered, finally, and can entertain the possibility of true intimacy with a man?
Since that thought never would’ve occurred to me before I met Flynn, I decide to table it until I can pick it apart when I’m alone later. Having him curled up next to me requires my full attention.
By ten thirty, I’m trying not to yawn. I’m usually in bed by ten because my alarm goes off at five, and I need every minute of those seven hours of sleep to function the next day. But I don’t want this time with him to end.
“What time do you have to get up tomorrow?” he asks.
I wonder if he’s a mind reader in addition to his many other attributes. “Five.”
“Ugh, that’s brutal. How do you do that?”
“Well, it all begins with an alarm clock.”
“Smart-ass. You know what I mean.”
“Don’t you have early days when you’re filming?”
“Yeah, but I always know there’s an end in sight.”
“So do I. It’s called summer vacation, when I sleep until noon as often as I possibly can.”
“Now you’re talking my language.”
“You like to sleep in?”
“I love to sleep in. While you’re slogging to work in the morning, think of me sleeping until noon.”
“That’s just mean.” My imagination immediately leaps to what he must look like in the morning, all sleep-rumpled and sexy with stubble on his jaw and his hair standing on end. I nearly sigh from the power of my imaginings.
“I’ll let you sleep until noon at least one day in LA.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.” He looks over at me. “I should go so you can get some sleep. Something tells me those third-graders won’t show much mercy to a tired Miss Bryant tomorrow.”
“They’ll take full advantage.”
His fingers trace the outline of my jaw before he leans in to kiss me. The moment his lips touch mine, I forget all about early wake-ups and third-graders. Nothing matters more than the heat that blasts through my body. My powerful reaction to him should frighten me, but rather than push him away, I pull him closer. That seems to trigger something for him, and the kiss becomes more demanding.