“I don’t want to party crash.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, squeezing my arm. “You’re my plus one. The only thing you have to worry about is outshining the bride.” He winked.
“Lunatic.” I laughed at that. As if that would ever happen. Still the look on his face made me think maybe he thought it would happen. Maybe calling him a lunatic wasn’t that far off. Still, the thought that he found me pretty made me feel all gooey inside.
We walked in silence for a while, and it was oddly comforting. I didn’t feel the need to yammer or try to be cool. It was wonderful just being with Adam. His hand wrapped around mine was warm and strong. I wished this day could last forever. That I could forget all about my almost-ex-husband and the crap I’d have to deal with when I got home. That I could forget the paparazzi and the fact that Adam and I weren’t really a normal couple as much as we might wish to be. I shoved it out of my mind and enjoyed the sun on my face and the hot man beside me. I was determined to enjoy right now, this moment.
Adam stopped at an overlook and pulled me against him as he stared out to sea. Then before I could quite catch my breath, he was kissing me. His lips were so soft, but the kiss was firm. Gentle, but also demanding. His tongue slipped past my lips, and I sighed at the rightness of our breaths mingling, our bodies fitting together perfectly. As if we were meant for each other.
Sparkles zinged along my spine and stars danced in my head. That thing about fireworks going off when a guy kissed you? Those things were real, trust me. His hands roamed my body, setting me on fire. Why did we have to be in public? Because I really wanted to rip off his clothes right about now.
Adam finally pulled away with a breathy little moan that made my lady parts sing. His eyes were at half-mast, and he looked drunk, which was only fair since I felt drunk.
“Lord, woman, what you do to me.”
I giggled like an idiot, and he gave me a dreamy smile before kissing me again, this time quick and light. “Why don’t we get something to eat and then find our hotel?”
I cleared my throat, both disappointed and excited. “Um, sure.”
We headed back to the car and down the road to a tiny pub overlooking the sea. The ceilings were low with heavy wooden beams and the walls were stone fitted closely together. There was a low fire dancing in the massive fireplace, and the long wooden bar was polished to a sheen. We sat at a scarred table next to the window, where a single candle glowed softly. The soft murmur of people chatting, and the scent of fish and chips and other pub favorites, perfumed the air.
Adam ordered a lager while I chose wine. Our food arrived quickly and was delicious. That thing about British food being crap is, well, crap. Sure, there are bad places, like anywhere, but for the most part, British pubs take pride in the food they serve. The portions are generous and the flavor amazing.
We chatted over dinner, at first about inconsequential things and then about work, friends, and hobbies. And finally the dreaded question.
“Tell me, Kate, if you could be or do anything, what would it be?” Adam asked, popping a slice of meat into his mouth.
“Oh, that’s easy,” I said with a grin. “I’d be a writer.”
His eyes widened a little but not with derision. More like surprise. Pleasure. “That’s fantastic. And what would you write?”
“Fiction. Romance, mostly. Maybe combined with mystery. I adore Agatha Christie. Have since I was a kid. But even then I always thought, you know, there should be more romance in this.”
Adam chuckled. “Makes total sense to me. In fact, they added romance to a lot of the new movies with Poirot and Marple.”
“Oh, I know. I love those! Hey.” I eyed him carefully. “Weren’t you in one of those?”
He blushed delightfully. “Er, yes. I believe I died halfway in.”
“But you made such a lovely corpse.”
We both laughed over that.
“Why, thank you for the compliment,” Adam said. “It’s not every day I get such praise.”
“I aim to please.” I shot him a grin.
“So, tell me, have you written anything?”
I toyed with my fork. “Not recently. I mean, I keep a file I call the Nancy Diaries. All about the horrible stuff my boss pulls on me and my co-workers. Deb, my office mate, thinks I should publish it. She thinks it’s hilarious, and everyone would think it’s fiction.”
“Doesn’t sound like much romance in that.”
“Definitely not.”
“Maybe you can turn it into a novel. One that does have some romantic elements.”
“Maybe I will.”
He leaned forward, his expression forceful. “You should go for it, Kate. If that’s what you really want, just do it. Life’s too short to waste on regret.”
I shivered at the intensity of his words. No one but Chloe, and Deb, of course, had ever encouraged me and my dream of being a writer. To have Adam so on-board just because it was my dream was overwhelming.
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. “I know in my bones I can be successful at this, but it’s just finding the right story. The one that needs to be told.”
“You have such a positive outlook.”
Did I? I mean, I had to, right? Otherwise I’d just wallow in misery. Who wants to do that?
“Is that what you did with your acting?” I asked, forking up a glob of mash with onion gravy. The food melted on my tongue, rich and savory and delicious. “Go after it, both guns blazing?”
“Well, not quite that extreme, but yes. Once I decided that’s what I wanted, I went for it. But I’m not that interesting. Let’s talk more about you. What are your flatmates like?”
“Raj and his partner are hardly around. They’re nice, though, if a bit messy. Kev is awesome. He’s like the perfect gay boyfriend. He takes me shopping, we go dancing. He’s really been a great friend. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“Wow. I’m almost jealous.” I could tell he was teasing.
“Don’t be,” I said with a grin. “He doesn’t kiss the way you do. At least not me.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He chuckled.
I blushed bright red, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Had I actually said that out loud? Holy crap. If I’d been alone, I would have given myself a face palm.
“Hey,” Adam said, taking my hand. “That was funny. Stop worrying. It’s just you and me, right? Together. Relaxing. Have a good time. A great time.”
How did he know? Was the man a mind reader? This time when he leaned across the table, his kiss was slow and sweet and definitely nothing Kev would give me. It left me a little breathless.
“Did you always want to be an actor?” I asked, returning to the previous subject.
He mulled it over. “I guess when I was a kid I wanted to be a footballer, like most of my friends.”
“Ah, good old soccer.” I couldn’t help teasing him.
He laughed in good humor. “Exactly. I was okay, but not enough to be the next Beckham or anything. And then I got involved in a stage play at school, and the rest is history.”
“You were bitten.”
“By the acting bug, yes. There was something about being out on that stage, embracing another character, becoming someone else. And, of course, the adoration of my fans.” He winked. I knew he truly did adore his fans. Everyone knew that about him. But he was never arrogant about it. In fact, he always seemed a little surprised when people wanted his autograph or picture.
“Did you dream of becoming as big as you have?”
He laughed. “Not at all. I would have been happy muddling around onstage. Or maybe the odd television show here in Britain. It all happened so fast. It’s been crazy. I don’t really understand why...”
I eyed him. “Why what?”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “What they see in me? I mean, I know I’m a good actor. I’ve worked hard to become so. But I’m not anything special. I’m just this skinny, slightly nerdy guy from London
. I’m no Brad Pitt.”
I snorted. Skinny was not a word I’d used to describe Adam. He was slender, sure, but in like a swimmer. All taut, compact muscle. “Not everyone has the hots for Brad Pitt, you know.”
He shrugged. “Still, I’m not really the Hollywood type.”
“That’s what people like about you,” I said. “You’re real. Accessible. Genuine. And nobody cares if you’re skinny or not. You’re gorgeous. They like you.” I like you. But I didn’t say that out loud. I didn’t want to freak him out.
“It’s kind of you to say.”
“It’s the truth.”
He stared at me for a moment, as though judging my words. “Thank you.” I could tell it was sincere. How bizarre was it that one of the hottest movie stars in the world right now was as hung up about his looks as I was? Well, almost.
“Come on,” he said, rising from the table. “Let’s get going. We need to check into the hotel. Then I have a surprise for you.”
WE PULLED UP A WINDING, tree-lined drive and into a small parking lot. I frowning at the sign informing visitors when parking hours were. I wasn’t sure where we were, but it was way past visiting hours according to the sign.
“Where are we?”
Adam grinned. “Greenway.”
My eyes widened. “Agatha Christie’s house?” I felt a keen little thrill.
“You said she was your favorite author as a kid, so I thought you might enjoy seeing where she lived.” He hopped out of the car and came around to let me out.
“But it’s closed,” I said sadly, wishing we’d spent less time on the beach. I really did want to see my idol’s house. She was my inspiration. The thing that made me want to be a writer. I aspired to her greatness.
His grin widened. “It helps to have friends in high places,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the entrance.
“Are you kidding me?”
He laughed and hurried me up the path and onto the grounds. As we curved around the drive, the door swung open and a woman stood in the doorway, smiling. She was about sixty, with close cropped curls and a tweed jacket over jeans. She looked like she belonged there.
“Adam,” she called cheerily. “So glad you could make it.”
He gave her a hug and did the cheek kissing thing. “Madeline,” he said. “Thank you so much for this. I’d like you to meet the lovely Kate Miller. She’s an enormous fan of Agatha Christie.”
“So I hear,” Madeline saide. She took my arm. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Kate. Why don’t you come in, and I’ll show you around?”
For the next hour or so, I wandered from room to room with Madeline explaining about various functions and furnishings and how the Grand Dame of Mystery had lived her life here at Greenway. It was amazing and wonderful, and I felt excitement right down to my bones being there, soaking it in.
Adam followed us, quiet but interested. I couldn’t help but wonder at his thoughtfulness. I couldn’t believe he’d remembered, let alone gone to the trouble to create such a wonderful surprise for me. I couldn’t imagine it had been easy. Oh sure, he was famous, and people were probably willing to do all sorts of things for him, but still. How many guys bothered to pay attention to what a woman was interested in, never mind plan a special date around that? Certainly this was a first in my experience. My almost-ex-husband had never remembered Valentine’s Day or our anniversary. Forget my birthday. He’d spouted off bullshit about them being holidays invented by Hallmark and a waste of money. Yeah, he was a prince like that. Of course, if I didn’t buy him something on his birthday, the shit hit the fan. But that’s another story.
It was dark by the time we finished our tour, and most of the grounds weren’t lit, but the lady offered us a battery-powered lantern if we wanted to go exploring, as long as we promised not to break our necks.
“The boathouse is the same one they used in the film Dead Man’s Folly,” she told me. “I’m certain you’d enjoy seeing that.”
I turned to Adam, sure he’d say no, that we needed to get to the hotel. Or that it was dark. Or a long walk. Instead he took the lantern and my hand and said, “Let’s go!”
I’m not a fan of nature and darkness. Either is fine on their own, but combine them and it’s damn creepy. With Adam holding my hand, it felt safe and fun and romantic. We followed the gravel path down the hill, stopping to inspect little wooden signs with arrows pointing the direction we wanted to go. Along the way we discovered a grotto, a shrine of sorts with a small statue and a pond. It was the sort of thing I’d love to have in my garden. If I had a garden. Or, you know, a house.
At last we reached the boathouse, and I recognized it instantly. Not just from the movie, but from the book, as well. I felt like I was visiting a place I’d been told about by a friend. I felt almost giddy, pulling ahead of Adam to get to the boathouse.
We pulled open the doors and wandered around inside. On the ground floor was an open pool of water where the river was allowed to seep in creating a bathing spot. Wide doors opened onto the water so one could put their boat in and head straight out. On the top floor were comfortable places to sit and little tables for holding refreshments and games. It was the perfect spot for whiling away a lazy summer afternoon. I could totally see myself at one of the long windows with my laptop, writing tales of romance and adventure. It was the sort of place that was completely inspirational.
“You love it here, don’t you?” Adam asked.
“If I could pick one place on earth to be my dream home, this would be it,” I agreed. “It’s like it came right out of my imagination and plopped down here in Devon. It’s so perfect.”
He smiled and leaned down to kiss me. It was gentle at first. The sort of kiss one gives a person one cares about when one is feeling especially squishy and warm. But it soon grew into something more. Something hot and hungry and wanting. Before I knew it, Adam had me up against the wall, kissing me senseless while my hands were under his shirt, roaming over his bare skin. I couldn’t get enough of him: his taste, his touch.
He groaned a little and pulled away. “Let’s go back to the hotel.” His voice was husky. Full of wanting.
There were probably reasons why I should have said no. Why I should have hesitated. But right then I couldn’t think of any. All I could think of was Adam and how much I wanted him.
“Okay.”
Chapter 15
THE MINUTE WE WERE inside the hotel room, Adam pulled me to him. My purse hit the floor, followed by his jacket. He hadn’t even turned on the light, and the room was full of shifting shadows. His mouth on mine was hot and demanding, teasing, tasting. I wrapped my arms around him, loving the feel of him under my palms as his muscles flexed and bunched.
“You are wearing far too many clothes,” he mumbled.
“Then take them off.”
My shirt was up and over my head so fast, I barely had time to blink. He fumbled with my jeans a bit before managing to work the zipper. He shoved my jeans down and just stared at me. For a moment I was self-conscious. I started to suck in my stomach.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
The whole self-conscious thing totally went out the window. This time it was me who launched myself at him, taking us both to the bed. We bounced a little, which made us giggle before the laughter was lost in more kisses. I managed to get his shirt buttons undone, shoving the damn thing off his shoulders, trapping his arms long enough so I could nuzzle the sweet spot where his neck met his shoulder. Pure velvet softness. I inhaled the heady scent of him, fresh and citrusy with a hint of arousal.
He freed himself from the tangle of his shirt and pulled me closer, yanking my mouth back to his, drinking me in as if he couldn’t get enough. I was lost in his touch, his taste, his scent.
Somewhere along the way, my bra disappeared, along with his pants. We were down to nothing but skin and knickers. I wanted his off, but with me on top it was nearly impossible. So, I did that sexy roll thing you always see in movies.
&
nbsp; And ended up on the floor with him on top me. We stared at each other and then burst out laughing. The laughing turned to kissing, my panties sailed across the room, and then there
was nothing but sighs.
I SLIPPED MY SHOES off beneath the table, careful not to let anyone see. I doubted anyone would care, Adam’s family seemed so relaxed about things, but it seemed rude to run around barefoot at someone else’s wedding. But my shoes were pinching my feet, and I was pretty sure I had a nice blister going.
“Good idea,” someone said with a gusty sigh, flopping into the chair opposite me. She was a large woman, both broad and tall, with tight, curly hair dyed golden blonde and bright red lipstick. She kicked off her own heels and rubbed her feet before adjusting the skirt of her lemon yellow dress. “I tell you, these things just never end. I adore my niece, but really? Couldn’t she have just run off and got married in Aruba?” She let out a hearty laugh, and I grinned at her. Running off to Aruba didn’t sound like a bad idea.
I tried to place the woman in the sea of names and faces Adam had given me as he’d ushered me around his cousin’s wedding reception. They all blurred together into a big blob of smiling faces and cheek kisses. The only names I remembered for sure were his sisters, Charlotte and Nora. And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pick them out if they weren’t standing next to Adam. I’d been so hyperaware of what Adam and I had been up to the night before that it had been hard to concentrate. I kept picturing him naked.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “I can’t remember your name.”
She brayed a laugh and leaned across the table to give my hand a hearty shake. “Beth. I’m Adam’s aunt. Named after the queen, can you believe?”
I could. People seemed inordinately fond of giving their children the names of royals.
“Nice to meet you.” I liked her instantly. She was warm and loud and not at all pretentious. All of Adam’s family were lovely, but Aunt Beth was particularly endearing.
The Art of Kissing Frogs Page 15