“You, as well.” She eyed me closely. “Yes, I think you’ll do.”
“Excuse me?” I caught sight of Adam. He was standing in a herd of children, twirling a little boy about, a shit-eating grin plastered across his gorgeous face. Damn, he took my breath away.
Aunt Beth caught sight of where my attention lay and brayed another laugh. “Handsome devil, isn’t he? It’s no wonder the Americans love sticking him in film. Smart of them, if you ask me.” Her eyes narrowed.
I nodded. “He’s so good with them.”
“The children? They adore him. Especially that boy he’s got now.” She nodded. “That’s Charlotte’s boy, Matthew. They say he’s got Asperger’s. He’s a bright, clever boy, but he won’t let anyone but Adam touch him like that. Only opens up when Adam’s around. He’ll make a good father one day, our Adam.”
I watched the two of them, laughing and giggling like crazy. Yes. Adam would make a very good father one day. My heart gave a funny little flutter.
“But we were talking about you.”
“Me?” It came out a little squeak, which made me flush.
“Yes. I like you. You’re a far sight better than the rest of them he’s brought by.”
I felt a little sick. “Adam’s brought a lot of women by?”
“A lot? No. But a couple. Mostly nobody important. Eye candy of the week or whatnot. His damn agent likes him to be seen with what he calls ‘appropriate women.’ Damn floozies, if you ask me.”
I almost laughed in relief. “So, nothing serious then?”
“Just the one.”
If a heart could sink, mine did. “The one?”
“What was her name?” Aunt Beth took a sip of wine. “Oh, yes. Celeste.” She gave it a French accent while simultaneously rolling her eyes. I felt even sicker.
“Sounds, um, French.”
“She was. Or wasn’t. The accent was fake, believe you me, but I understand her mother really was French.” Another sip. “Not that it matters. She left Adam for one of those producer people. Guy was ancient, but had a filthy lot of dosh. Guess she figured she’d have a better shot at getting famous if she jumped in the bed of someone who could actually get her into parts. Like I said, floozy.”
“Did they date long?”
“Two years, give or take.”
“Adam must have been upset.” As was I. Why hadn’t he told me about this woman? Clearly she’d had a big place in his life at one point.
“Of course. Devastated, I’d imagine. But it’s all water under the bridge now. That was, what, three years ago? Then there was that harlot he met at the theater. She dumped him for a director. Or was it another actor?”
I held back a smile at her use of the word “harlot.” “I think I might have seen her at the theater.”
Aunt Beth snorted. “She sniffing around now? Figures. Now he’s famous across the pond. I hope he had enough sense to send her on her merry way.”
“He did.”
She nodded in satisfaction. “He’s had a run of bad luck, but he’s got you now.” She smiled. “I like you. You’ve got spirit.” Her eyes narrowed a little. “And you won’t leave my nephew for a director, I fancy.”
I laughed at that. “Definitely not.” I glanced at Adam, who happened to be looking my way. My heart started racing in crazy pitter-patters that made me feel a little heady and spacey for a moment.
Aunt Beth chuckled. “You’ve got it bad. The pair of you.”
“We barely know each other.”
She snorted. “A moment is all it takes.”
“M’lady, may I have this dance?”
Adam was standing next to me, a smile curving his luscious lips. “But of course, good sir.” I placed my hand in his, and he drew me up from the table. Aunt Beth’s eyes twinkled with delight. She nodded as if to say “See? I told you so.”
Adam drew me onto the dance floor and pulled me tight against him. The music was something soft and sweet, low and sexy. Just the right kind of music for slow dancing. I caught sight of the bride and groom wrapped in each other’s arms and lost in their own little world.
“Thank you for coming with me.” His voice was a low rumble in my ear.
“Thank you for inviting me. Everyone’s been so nice.”
He chuckled. “They have their moments.”
We danced in silence for a while. Then he said, “When we get back to London, I think we should see more of each other.”
Really? I cleared my throat. “I’m not opposed to that.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
I laughed softly. “We already see each other practically every other day.”
“Yes, but right now we’re just...dating.”
“And you want more than that?” My heart hammered in my chest.
“I want to be exclusive. I mean, as far as I go, we are already, but I just want it to be understood that this is serious. That we’re going somewhere.”
I felt at once both elated and sick to my stomach. Elated because it was exactly what I wanted, and I still couldn’t believe Adam Wentworth wanted me. And sick because he still didn’t know the truth about me, and now I had no idea how to tell him. “Adam...”
“Shh.” He placed a finger gently over my lips. “When we get back to London, we’ll talk about it. For now, let’s just dance.”
I nodded and laid my head against his shoulder, grateful for the reprieve. For now. But sometime soon, I was going to have to tell him the truth.
Chapter 16
“THANKS FOR INVITING me for the weekend and taking me to the wedding,” I said. We were headed back to London, a light patter of rain spattering the windshield and something bluesy playing softly on the stereo. “I had a lot of fun. And your family was really nice.”
“Thank you for coming with me.” He flashed a grin that made my heart melt. “My family is important to me.”
“I could tell. You’re so good with your nephew.”
He smiled, his eyes going soft. “He’s a good kid.”
I could tell he wanted kids of his own. It was so obvious. “You’d make a great father.”
“I hope that’s true one day.” He cleared his throat. “My family loved you. My sisters couldn’t stop talking about how lovely you are, and my Aunt Beth told me you’re a keeper.”
I blushed at the praise. “Aunt Beth is a hoot.”
“I saw she cornered you. I hope she didn’t give you a hard time.”
I shook my head. “No. I like her. She was just, um, talking about stuff.” I dwindled off lamely.
“You mean, regaling you with horror stories of the women I’ve dated.” His tone was dry.
“Uh, yeah.” I frowned, turning in my seat to face him. “Why are you with me, Adam?”
He seemed surprised. “I don’t understand.”
“I mean, your aunt told me about the types of women you’ve dated in the past. I saw the one at the theater.”
He frowned. “Adele?”
“Yeah. They’re nothing like me, Adam.”
“Believe me. That’s a good thing. Those women? All they cared about were appearances. I’m tired of this shallow bullshit. I want something real.”
“But they’re gorgeous and—”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
I blinked. “Get what?”
“You are gorgeous, Kate. You. You are beautiful in a way they could never be.”
I wanted to believe him. I did. But those women were actresses. I was just plump, ordinary Kate.
“I wish you could see what I see,” he said softly.
So did I. “I believe you believe it.”
He grinned. “That’ll have to do, I guess.”
We were less than I block from my house. I had to tell him now before it was too late. “Adam, I need to tell you something.”
He stiffened. “I’ve got a call with my agent in less than an hour. How about we have dinner tomorrow and talk about it?”
I swallowed, half relieved and half irritated. Why
did he keep putting me off? And why did I keep letting him? “Sure.”
Adam pulled the Aston Martin smoothly up to the front door and jumped out to open my door. Carrying my bags for me, he stopped on the front porch and leaned in for a good long kiss. I came away more than a little breathless.
“Let me carry these up for you,” he said.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I said, taking the small suitcase from him. “I can manage.” I didn’t want him seeing my crappy little apartment and my even crappier little room. I couldn’t do it, even though I knew Kev would throw a fit I because I didn’t bring Adam up.
“All right. Dinner tomorrow night?”
I smiled. “Yes. I’d love that.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.” He leaned in for another kiss and then he was gone, the Aston Martin zipping around the corner with a purr.
I let myself in and leaned against the door with a sigh. The door down the hall popped open and a round face appeared in the doorway. “Who’s that?”
“Mrs. Banjeree. It’s me, Kate. From upstairs.”
She squinted at me. “Where you been?”
“I went away for the weekend.”
“With a man?”
I grinned. “Yeah. A very hot man.” I couldn’t help teasing her. She seemed to love her gossip, and I was feeling lighthearted.
She made a disgusted sound. “Too bad. Ollie gonna be gutted.”
“Who’s Ollie?” I’d never heard the name before.
“My grandson. Told him ’bout you. Too bad.” She made another disgusted sound and slammed the door. I held back a giggle. Was she seriously trying to play matchmaker?
The minute I let myself in the front door, Kev pounced. “Oh my god, girl, I hope you’re sitting down.”
I stared at him. “Seriously? I just got in.”
He waved it away like it was a mere nothing. “Look at this.” He thrust one of the gossip rags in my face.
“What am I looking at?”
“Uh, the headline, sweetie. Here, let me take your bag. You’re gonna want to sit down.”
“Whatever.” I let him take my bag while I unfolded the magazine. My breath caught in a gasp. “Oh, no.”
Splashed across the front page was a picture of me and Adam. And in great big letters:
Home Wrecker? Adam Wentworth’s New Girlfriend Is A Married Woman!
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”
“Sorry, girl.” Kev looked genuinely worried. Like I might have a meltdown any minute. “I don’t know how they hell they found out.”
It wouldn’t have been hard. A simple records search would have given them Gavin’s name. All they had to do was call him up, and the way the asshole had been acting lately, he was sure to spill his guts. Especially if they promised him a little cash to go with it. The man was nothing if not obsessed with money. It had been one of our biggest problems. He’d wanted me to wear pantyhose and Chanel No. 5, paint my nails red, and climb the corporate ladder so we could retire in Spain or the South of France and drive flashy cars. All I wanted was to be a writer, make my living creating something. And wear pajamas to work. Not exactly compatible goals.
I turned to Kev, on the edge of full-out panic. “What am I going to do? Adam’s going to find out. Dammit! I should have told him.”
Kev’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you didn’t?”
The look on my face must have said it all. Kev shook his head sadly. “You little fool.”
“It just never seemed the right time.”
“You were scared.” He was far too discerning.
“Yeah, of course I was. My track record hasn’t exactly been stellar, you know. We were having such an amazing time. I didn’t want to ruin everything.”
Kev patted my shoulder in sympathy. “You mean you didn’t want to risk losing him.”
“Yeah.” I let out a deep sigh and sank into the chair, resting my head on the kitchen table. “I did try to tell him a couple of times, but he kept putting me off. Now what?”
“I think you should call him. Explain. He deserves to hear it from you, not the rags. Take your lumps, sweetie.”
I felt sick to my stomach, but I knew he was right. Maybe I could get to Adam before he saw the paper or looked online. Or ran into a herd of paparazzi. Shit.
“I should do this in person,” I said, standing up shakily.
Kev frowned. “You should, but I don’t think you’ll get there in time. Call.”
He was right, but my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t even press Adam’s number. Kev shook his head. “Here. Give it to me.” He punched Adam’s contact and handed the phone back.
I listened to it ring on the other end. And ring. And ring. I closed my eyes and held back a whimper. “He’s not picking up.”
“Maybe he’s still driving. Text him and then hit the road, Jackie.”
But what could I say? Tell him not to read the papers? What if he was home already and had seen it? Tell him sorry, and I’ll explain? If he hadn’t read them, he’d be curious and maybe try and find out what I was talking about. I was making myself mad with worry and rethinking myself.
Finally I typed in a message: I need to talk to you. Coming over. I squeezed my eyes shut as I pressed send. Then I ran to the bathroom to throw up.
“Sweetie, you have got to stop letting yourself get so wrapped up.” Kev’s voice hovered over me as I knelt before the porcelain throne. “The stress. It isn’t healthy.”
“Can’t help it.” I flushed the loo and staggered to my feet. A glance in the mirror told me I looked like death warmed over. Crap. Not a good way to convince a guy to give you a chance. “It’s how I deal with stress.” I grabbed my toothbrush and went about making myself presentable for public.
“You’ve got to find a better way, sweetie. Seriously. This is messed up.”
I spat in the sink. “Yeah, I know.”
“Here, let me help.” Kev messed about with my hair, swiped at the raccoon circles under my eyes, and gave me a quick spritz of the perfume I almost never wore. “Better. Now go get your man.”
“Yes, sir. Wait. I don’t know where he lives.”
“You’ve never been to his house?”
“We haven’t been dating that long, so no. I mean, I figured we would after dinner tonight, but now....” I waved my hands frantically as panic took over. “I know he leaves near Hyde Park, but....” I shrugged helplessly.
“Not to worry. Give me a moment.” Kev pulled out his smartphone, fiddled with it a bit, and then grinned. “Sending you a text with his address.”
“My gosh. How did you find it so fast?”
“Google, sweetie. It’s a lifesaver.”
The entire walk to the Tube station, my heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t even hear the traffic. I kept checking my phone to see if Adam had texted or I’d missed a call. Nothing. The Tube ride was excruciating. The normal fifteen minutes seemed to take hours, and the walk from the station to his flat felt not unlike how the ride to the guillotine must have felt. I was shaking so bad, I was glad I hadn’t worn heels.
I started to ring Adam’s buzzer, then realized if he had seen the paper, he might not buzz me in. Chickenshit. The thought whispered through my mind. I checked the other names on the list and punched a couple of them. One picked up.
“Yes? Hello?”
“Delivery.”
The door buzzed, and I pushed my way into the tiny lobby. Like mine, Adam’s flat was in what had once been a single family home, but while mine had been a fairly simple townhouse for the merchant class, Adam’s building had once been a mansion for the aristocracy. Columns still flanked either side of a wide, sweeping staircase, but at some point a tiny lift had been added. I stepped into the claustrophobic elevator car and rode to Adam’s floor.
I had expected Adam to live in the penthouse. He was a famous actor, after all. But like a lot of British actors, he kept it low-key, living in a surprisingly modest, two-bed flat on the fifth floor.
I knocke
d hesitantly at his door, my stomach churning in dread. He still hadn’t answered my text. Worry gnawed at my insides. A dog chewing on a bone. I should have told him. I should have. The first date, maybe. Or for sure by the time he took me to Devon. Maybe he wouldn’t have understood, but...
The door swung open, startling me. “Kate.” His voice, like his face, carried no emotion. Flat, lifeless.
Oh, God. He knew. My stomach dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of my shoes. “Adam. I need to talk to you.”
He stared at me for a long time, his face revealing nothing. His coldness reminded me so much of Gavin. Bile rose in my throat. And then I saw it, that flash of anger deep in his eyes, the whitening of knuckles as he gripped the doorframe. He was mad, and he was struggling to hide it.
“Please.”
With a gracious nod of his head, he stepped back and allowed me to enter before shutting the door behind me. Thank God for deeply inbred English manners. I took a deep breath and turned to face him. He was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt that was a little on the snug side. His feet were bare, and his hair slightly damp and curling around his ears as if he’d just stepped from the shower. He crossed his arms and stared at me, his jaw working. Yes, he was angry and trying to hide it. I wasn’t sure if it was his British stiff-upper-lip thing, or if it was just Adam trying to be understanding. I told myself it didn’t matter as long as he listened.
“I take it you’ve read the paper,” I said finally.
“My agent rang,” he said by way of explanation.
Shit. I swallowed. This was not how I’d wanted to tell him. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed. “For what, Kate?”
“For not telling you sooner. I should have. I know that. But it never seemed to be the right time.”
“How about the first time I asked you out? Or how about the day we went to coffee? A simple, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m married,’ would have sufficed.”
“It’s not that simple.”
He said nothing.
“It’s not like you think. It’s not what they’re saying.”
“Then tell me, Kate, what is it like?”
“I’m not married. I mean, on paper, yes. But not really. My husband left me for another woman months ago. We’re...we’re getting a divorce.”
The Art of Kissing Frogs Page 16