The Art of Kissing Frogs

by Shéa R. MacLeod

  "You're breaking up with me over this?" He seemed genuinely shocked and maybe even a little hurt. Or maybe it was wishful thinking on my part.

  "No, I'm breaking up with you for your own good. Right now they hate me, but they could just as easily turn on you."

  He ran a hand through his hair, clearly aggravated. "I'm not going to allow the paparazzi to dictate what I do or who I spent time with. Kate, I want to spend time with you, and nothing is going to change that. I will not let anyone ruin what we have, least of all you."

  I blinked. He wanted to spend time with me? Even after all this? "But—"

  "No buts, Kate. I'm serious. I like you. You like me, right?"

  "Of course, but—"

  "Then I don't see what the problem is," he said with irritating logic. "Fuck them."

  I sputtered with laughter. "I'd rather not."

  That made him laugh. "Glad to hear it. Then we’re good?"

  "Yeah."

  He must've sensed my hesitation. "This will pass, Kate," he said. "Next week David Tennant will announce he's playing Doctor Who again, or Prince Harry will get drunk and go skinny dipping. We'll be out of the news. They'll be in. Somebody else will be plastered all over Facebook and Twitter. And you and I can get on with our lives. No one will care we’re together. They'll have to accept it."

  "I guess. I'm just not used to this. What they said about me...."

  "I'm so sorry Kate," he said, his voice a soft caress, his hands warm on my back. "You shouldn't have had to deal with that. Those things they are saying? You know they're not true. Those people are small-minded, horrid little people with nothing better to do than tear someone else down. Forget them. I know it's not easy, but honestly, they're not important. They don't know you. They don't know how wonderful you are. How beautiful you are." He stroked my cheek, then leaned down and kissed me. Soft at first, but then with increasing intensity. I melted into him, kissing him back, stroking his tongue with mine.

  He pulled back a little to kiss my neck, my ear. “So damn beautiful,” he whispered.

  I felt myself blushing all the way up to my hairline. “Beautiful” was not a word I was used to hearing being applied to me. And the way he looked at me? As if I was the only person in the world that mattered. "You have a pretty face" was one of the more popular comments, usually followed by some remark about my weight. Mostly people just said what a great personality I had or how funny I was. But beautiful? Not even.

  "Um, thanks," I said, not sure how else to respond.

  "We should get away," he said. "Go somewhere we can be ourselves. Be together without anyone spying on us."

  "Is there such a place?" I laughed. Now, instead of a lead weight, my stomach was filled with dancing butterflies. My entire being was zinging with happiness. Adam wanted to go away with me. To be with me. Me! Holy guacamole, it was like a dream.

  Adam laughed too, hugging me tight. "They're getting harder to find, but yes, such places exist. Why don't you come away with me next weekend?"

  I gulped. All weekend together? That was like a big deal. Was I ready for that? "Okay," I heard myself answering before my brain had time to engage. Holy shit, I was in for it now.

  "Fantastic!" He grinned widely, genuinely thrilled. "I'll pick you up Friday after work. Be sure to pack a pretty dress. There's going to be a wedding."

  Chapter 13

  I WAS IN THE MIDST of deciding between the blue and black ’60s-style party dress Kev had talked me into buying, and the gray, ruffled Bohemian dress Chloe had given me (I really needed to spruce up my wardrobe) when the phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Crap. Gavin. He was the very last thing I needed. Between the paps and my insecurities, I was a hot mess. And I bet the bastard knew it, too. The asshole always knew exactly which buttons to push to turn me into a slobbering disaster of stress and heartache.

  Reluctantly I answered the phone. Brace yourself.

  “Well, Kate, looks like you’ve gotten yourself into the papers. How nice for you.” The snide sneer in his tone made me angry and ill all at once.

  “What do you want, Gavin?”

  “Looks like you’re cheating on me.”

  “Excuse me?” It was all I could do not to screech into the phone. He was the one who’d cheated on me. He was the one who’d left me. How dare he? The bastard.

  “You know I could force this divorce now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “UK law, babe. You cheat on me, I can divorce you whether you like it or not. No waiting two years. Done and dusted.” He cackled.

  I cringed. I hated when he called me “babe” in that snarky way of his. I hated that he constantly lorded his new life and new girlfriend over me. And I especially hated that now he was threatening me.

  “You left me,” I pointed out. “You don’t have a leg to stand on.

  He snorted. “The only reason I’m not going straight to my lawyer is that I don’t want a scandal. It will upset Bella.

  Bella. Fuck Bella, the husband-stealing bitch. But I didn’t say any of that.

  “What do you want?” I repeated.

  “I want you to sign divorce papers. No more delays. No more excuses. Sign them.”

  I swallowed. A divorce could totally screw up my immigration status and he knew it. If they revoked my visa, I would be able to fight it based on what he’d done, but that took money. Money I didn’t have. He knew he had me over a barrel, and he was enjoying every minute of it. My only hope was that the UK divorce courts were notoriously slow. It could take six months or more before a divorce was granted, even an uncontested one.

  “Gavin...”

  “Either you sign those papers, or I tell lover boy you’re still married.”

  The lump in my throat was growing larger by the minute. I still hadn’t told Adam. I didn’t know how. Every time I tried, it was the wrong time. We barely knew each other, and things were crazy enough as it was.

  “Fine,” I said. What choice did I have? “But I’m out of town right now.” Total lie, of course, but he didn’t know that. “I can meet you when I get back.”

  “Fine,” he snarled. “Text me.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

  I promptly ran to the bathroom and threw up the contents of my stomach.

  KEV CAUGHT ME COMING out of the bathroom and grabbed hold of my upper arms before I could dash into my room. “What is it, Kate?” he asked, eyeing me. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you sick?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about it and yet, I did. “Gavin called.”

  Kev’s expression hardened. “What did the bastard want?” His accent almost made the word ‘bastard’ sound elegant, but the venom in his tone told me exactly how he felt about my ex.

  “He, ah, wants me to sign the divorce papers.”

  Kev frowned. “He’s still bothering you with that?”

  “Yeah.” I sniffed, wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my bathrobe.

  “Come. Let’s have a nice cuppa and talk about it.” He guided me into the kitchen and sat me down while he went about the ritual of brewing tea the proper English way.

  “Gavin must have seen the news on social media this morning,” I said. “About me and Adam, I mean. He was all smug, saying I was a cheater, and if I didn’t sign the documents, he’d turn me in. Saying that now I didn’t have a leg to stand on.”

  “Smug bastard. He’s the cheater. Not you. You haven’t even slept with the guy yet. Crazy girl.”

  I shrugged.

  “I wish you could get him out of your life once and for all. Let the bitch have him.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “I know. I left a message for my friend. I’ll leave another one.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a sigh. “I appreciate it. But I don’t see how there’s anything anyone can do. Unless you have a few thousand pounds under your mattress?” I gave him a watery smile.

  “Afraid not, luv.” He sighed. “I’m really sorry. Have you talked to a
nyone else about this?”

  “I talked to an immigration advocate a while back. He said I had three options.”

  “Okay this sounds promising.” Kev took a sip of tea. “What’s the first?”

  “Get married again, ASAP. Of course, the problem with that is having to get divorced first. And I’m not sure Adam would be thrilled to march up the aisle straight away.”

  “Well, he’s an idiot then. I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

  I shot him a look.

  He grinned. “If I swung that way, darling.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, too bad.”

  “Indeed. What’s the second thing?”

  “Get pregnant. Preferably with an English baby-daddy.”

  “Now that I could manage. Long as we use a turkey baster.”

  I snorted. “I’ve no intention of becoming a single mother just so I can stay in the UK.”

  “Fair enough. What’s behind door number three?”

  I stared down at my cooling tea. “I go home.”

  “But this is your home.”

  “To America.”

  “That’s unacceptable. I vote we either get Adam to marry you, or we get you pregnant.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You are a lunatic. I still haven’t told Adam, I’m still married.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if he freaks and dumps me?” Things were already bad enough with the paparazzi hanging around. “Plus, there hasn’t really been an opportunity. It never seemed to be the right time.”

  “Well, at least you’d know the truth. In the meantime, what are we going to do about this asshole ex of yours?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing much to do. I’ve got to sign those papers, or he’ll force my hand. I’m just hoping to put him off as long as possible. I told him I was out of town and wouldn’t be back until Monday. Hopefully I’ll think of something by then to postpone things.”

  “Six months is a long time to postpone things.”

  “I know,” I said with a sigh, taking a long swallow of lukewarm tea. Blech. “But I’m out of options right now. Maybe I should just cancel this trip.”

  “Sweetie,” he said, patting my hand. “Don’t you dare. You need a break from all this. Promise me. While you’re gone with that hot hunk of yours, no thinking about all this bullshit. We’ll deal with it when you get home. I’ll call my friend, like I said. Maybe there’s something we haven’t thought of.”

  I stood up and gave him a hug. “You’re the best.”

  He smirked. “I know.”

  Chapter 14

  I WAS PACKED AND READY to go a good hour before Adam arrived. Nothing left but to sit around and fidget until I’d nearly driven Kev nuts.

  “Overeager much?” he snapped. He’d been watching too much American telly again.

  “Just...nervous.” I didn’t know how I was going to manage this weekend. The possibilities were driving me bonkers. Were we going to be sharing a room? A bed? We hadn’t even slept together. Kissed, yes. Made out, hell yes. Did I want to sleep with him? You bet. But right now?

  Well, yes. If I were honest.

  Butterflies in my stomach were the size of pterodactyls. Again. I felt like I was going to hurl. It would be easy if I were the normal, single girl Adam thought me to be. It would be even easier if Adam wasn’t a celebrity. But he was, and I wasn’t, and I had no idea how to deal with it. How to tell him. It had been so long since I’d gotten past the first date, telling a guy I was technically still married had never come up. And now there was this guy I really, really liked, who seemed to like me. We were well past the first date, but I couldn’t figure out the words. I was so scared that telling him would turn him off. Make him leave. Sure they weren’t as picky about such things in the UK, but I was still terrified.

  “Nice car,” Kev muttered from the other side of the lounge. I popped up joined him at the window.

  Sure enough, Adam stepped out of a sleek, silver car. Damn, the thing was sexy. Hot damn, he was even sexier. He was wearing ordinary jeans that cupped his thighs lovingly and a button-down shirt that showed off an impressive pair of shoulders. He looked good enough to eat.

  The buzzer rang, but I was caught staring down at the man I was about to go away with. For the whole weekend. Oh, dear lord.

  “Would you like me to buzz him in?” Kev asked dryly.

  “No, I’ll get it.” I rushed across the room again and snapped up the intercom phone. “Hi,” I said, my heart doing a little somersault.

  “Hi, yourself.” His rich, accented voice sent my butterflies into a frenzy. “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Cliché alert! Cliché alert!

  He chuckled. “I’ll carry down your suitcase.”

  “No, no. I can manage. Be right down.” I don’t know why, but I wasn’t ready for him to see my dinky apartment. The one I shared with three other people. It was ridiculous. He knew I wasn’t rich, and still I felt sort of embarrassed by my circumstances.

  I bid Kev goodbye, picked up my suitcase, and dashed out the door and down the steps. I paused for a moment to catch my breath, reminded myself not to freak out, and swung open the front door.

  Adam greeted me with a wide smile that showed off his pearly whites and those incredibly sexy dimples. His green eyes crinkled at the corners, and it was all I could do not to swoon right there on the doorstep like some ridiculous starlet from the sixties.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble.

  “Hi.” My voice was decidedly not sexy, but he seemed to think it was good enough.

  The next thing I knew his lips were on mine, soft, velvet. Oh, dear heaven. I dropped my suitcase and melted against him, all those strong planes and angles fitting perfectly against my curves. I vaguely worried he’d notice my stomach roll. Then I told my inner critic to shut up and enjoy the kiss.

  Finally, about the point I’d thought I’d dissolve into the pavement, he pulled away. He looked about as dazed as I felt.

  He cleared his throat. “We better hit the road, or we’re never going to make Devon today.” His voice was decidedly husky. He leaned down and grabbed my suitcase with one hand and my hand with the other and hurried us both to the car.

  He opened the door for me with a flourish. Ever the gentleman, unlike most I’d dated. Once I was safely in, he shut the door and stowed my suitcase in the boot before sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “This is quite a car,” I murmured, caressing the buttery leather seats.

  “Isn’t it? Aston Martin wants me to be their spokesperson. I told them I needed to drive one first. So they gave me the loaner. I figured our little trip was the perfect excuse to try it out.” He shot me a wink. The butterflies went nuts again.

  The engine started with a low purr, and he pulled out into the street, weaving through the early morning traffic. London traffic was hideous, and I would have been overwhelmed with road rage, but Adam handled the congestion with aplomb. Before long we were zinging along the motorway, wind in our hair and sun in our faces. It was chilly, as usual, for this time of year in England, but unusually dry and sunny which suited me to a T. Who ever thought I’d miss Oregon summers?

  It wasn’t far to the Devon coast, and before long I could smell the fresh sea air. Excitement pumped through my veins. I loved the ocean. It renewed me, invigorated me. And it had been a long time since I’d been. Travel was always more difficult when you were reliant on mass transit. Well, and when you were flat-ass broke.

  At last the sea came into view, and I caught my breath. The endless gray-blue waves beneath the sunlit sky. Thick greenery turning the world into a verdant wonderland. “Oh, it’s magnificent,” I breathed.

  Adam reached across the center console and took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. I felt a tingle at the warmth of his skin against mine. The butterflies in my stomach which had calmed a little, suddenly took flight. I gave him a shy smile, and his eyes sparkled back at me. He looked so happy. Happy to be with me. Had anyone ever looked
so happy just spending time with me? I was pretty sure the answer would be negative. At least not someone of the boyfriend variety, anyway.

  He pulled into a parking lot along the beach and turned off the engine. He hurried around to open the door for me. I giggled like an idiot.

  “Ever the gentleman, I see.”

  His dimples flashed, and he leaned down to brush his lips against mine. “Always. Especially when escorting such a lovely lady.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” I teased.

  He winked. “I’m counting on it.”

  “Naughty boy.”

  Arm in arm we took to the boardwalk, strolling along a shoreline like something out of a vintage postcard or BBC costume drama. The actual beach, like most in England, was a rocky one. No sand, which was a bummer. Still, I loved the idea of being able to walk casually along, feet dry, enjoying the view and the fresh air without worrying about sand in places it shouldn’t go. It was very...civilized.

  We chatted of mundane things: my co-workers, the insane director for his play. He asked about my family, although there wasn’t much to tell. They were impossibly normal. I asked about his. We were going to his cousin’s wedding, after all.

  “Are you sure they won’t mind you bringing a total stranger?” I asked. Surely they would question why their gorgeous, rich, famous relative was bringing a frumpy, dumpy nobody to their wedding. But I didn’t say that out loud. I could at least pretend to be confident.

  “Of course not, darling,” he said, that rich, plummy accent doing things to my insides that were best reserved for steamy erotica novels. “They’re going to adore you. My sisters, especially.”

  I flushed a bit. The idea of people adoring me was foreign, to say the least. I got along with people—they generally liked me—I was just never sure why.