by Cassie Reed
Trayce.
She felt like she had been dreaming about him all night.
RELUCTANT HERO the headline below him read.
“I guess you could say it feels as good as saving anyone else’s life. But I’m not sure it’s that serious. She seems fine, and I’m fine so. . .”
Olivia nearly rolled her eyes as she threw her feet over the side of the bed and onto the floor. Reluctant hero was right. Couldn’t he manage to play up the drama anymore?
She made her way downstairs where Patrice was already busy swirling languid circles along the top of the marble kitchen island with a microfiber cloth. “Good morning, Ms. Olivia,” she said kindly, a smile lining her round face.
“Good morning,” Olivia replied with a quick smile of her own. “Patrice, when you drove up this morning, were there any cars outside? At the gate or anything?”
“Cars?” Patrice repeated. “No, no cars.”
“Or a van, maybe?” Olivia continued. “A news van?”
Patrice shrugged. “I didn’t see one. It was quiet outside.” She smiled again. “Peaceful.”
Olivia gave a slow nod. “Okay.” She turned toward the front door, calculating her next move. “But maybe I should just go down and check.”
“If you want,” she heard Patrice say.
Olivia zipped her lips closed in embarrassment. Had she said that out loud? She set off for her room again, her socked feet thudding against the carpeted stairs.
“Ms. Olivia,” she heard Patrice call. “If you do all the cleaning on the days I’m not here, it gives me less to do on the days I am here.”
Olivia paused at the top of the stairs, gazing down at her. It may have been costing her extra money to keep Patrice on, money that was going fast, but she hadn’t had the heart to let the housekeeper go yet. Plus, she liked having the occasional company over, even if it was just Patrice humming around and straightening things at right angles. “I know,” she called down. “You just. . .know what a neat freak I can be.” Especially when I have nothing else to do. “I think, maybe, the refrigerator shelves could use a good wipe down.”
Patrice nodded good-naturedly and Olivia was glad that she was at least willing to indulge her, for now. She wasn’t sure how many more aimless tasks she could think of to keep the housekeeper busy short of leaving her laundry undone and her dishes piled in the sink, both of which drove her crazy. Maybe the ceiling fan could use dusting. . .
Olivia strode into her walk-in closet, pulling a pink windbreaker down from its hanger. She would just take a casual jog, that was it, out past the gate and down the street, just to see what was happening and make herself available.
“No,” she said aloud in frustration, tossing the jacket down onto her bed. A jog? In her condition? She was recovering, she decided, from yesterday’s near-calamity. If the media wanted to talk to her, they could come and find her. They had obviously had no problem finding Trayce.
That one small fact seemed to annoy her to no end.
He hadn’t even wanted to talk to them.
On the bright side, at least the story was making the news, but the question now was whether or not it would stay in the news cycle for more than twenty-four hours. If it was here today, gone tomorrow, she was officially screwed.
Picking up her phone impatiently, she was just about to see if it had generated any buzz via social media when an incoming call flashed on the screen, her ringtone startling the device out of her hands. Picking it up again and noting who it was, she brought the phone quickly to her ear. “Hello?”
“Olivia?” her long-time publicist, Jamie, purred into the phone curiously. “Are you doing alright? I saw what happened on the news.”
“I’m doing fine, Jamie, considering,” Olivia replied. “But tell me there’s at least one show that wants a first-hand account.” She knew coming right out with it made her sound desperate, but with last year’s media meltdown over her arrest, she and Jamie had been through it all and there was no reason to hide her need for better publicity, no matter how she could get it. It had been Jamie who had recommended the ribbon-cutting ceremony in the first place.
“Actually,” Jamie began and Olivia nearly leapt through the phone in anticipation. “Good Morning Hollywood called. They were wondering if you wanted to be on the show tomorrow. If you’re free, of course,” she added.
“Very funny,” Olivia said. “I hope you accepted on my behalf.”
“I gave them a tentative yes,” Jamie replied. “There seemed to be just one little caveat.”
“What’s that?” Olivia murmured, feeling like she knew what it was before the question even left her mouth.
“They’d really love it if that hunky hero of yours made an appearance.”
Of course.
“The local news already got a hold of a him apparently,” Olivia said. “Why him and not me?”
“He’s a smaller fish to fry, is all,” Jamie reassured her. “Easier to get a hold of. Plus, you haven’t exactly had a friendly relationship with the press as of late.”
“Oh, after they spent six months making fun of me every chance they could get?” Olivia pressed. “Excuse me for not exactly trusting them.”
“Six months?” Jamie repeated incredulously. “I think it was really more like six weeks.”
Whatever length of time it was, it had had lasting repercussions. Not to mention six months had been Olivia’s conservative estimate. It had really felt more like an eternity.
“Well, it seems like someone has his contact info, at least,” Jamie continued. “I can put a call down to the local news station and see—”
“No,” Olivia said suddenly. “I have a feeling he’ll get scared off if any more people from the media go hunting him down. Let me do it.”
“You have his contact info?” Jamie said quizzically.
“I’ll figure something out,” Olivia told her. “You know how good I am at sweet talking people.”
“Everyone but the police,” Jamie laughed before pausing awkwardly. “Okay. Well, I’ll leave it to you then. But the studio will be expecting you first thing tomorrow morning, so I’ll need to confirm you both are coming as soon as possible.”
“Just consider it done,” Olivia responded confidently. “If there’s any hiccups, I’ll call you.”
“Terrific,” Jamie said. “Let’s touch base before the interview.”
“You got it.”
Olivia ended the call, staring down at her phone for a moment before clicking the screen back into action and selecting Trayce’s number. Holding it up to her ear, she waited pensively as it rang, once, twice, three times. He wasn’t going to pick up. He was probably holding his phone in the palm of his hand right now, counting just how many times she would let it ring in desperation before she gave up. Like his phone, he had her in the palm of his hand and he knew it. What did he want, what hard bargain would he drive forward? Was it more money, or—
“Hello?”
“Trayce?” She let out a breath of relief. “This is Olivia Warner.”
“I knew it was you, Ms. Warner,” he told her, his tone of voice unreadable. He paused momentarily. “Are you doing okay?”
She felt a corner of her mouth raise, surprised at the satisfaction she got from him asking how she was. Did he really care, or was he just being polite? She shook her head silently in her bedroom. It didn’t matter. This was just business.
“I’m doing fine, thank you,” she said. “And thank you for yesterday.”
“Yep,” he replied simply.
The silence lingered between them for a moment before she cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling you.”
“The thought crossed my mind,” Trayce replied. “I don’t receive that many phone calls before seven a.m.”
“Right, sorry. I’ll keep this brief then. I have great news, actually. I’m sure you’ve heard of the show Good Morning Hollywood. . .”
She thought she heard him s
igh, but he waited for her to continue.
“Well, we’ve been invited to appear on one of their segments tomorrow,” she said cheerily. “You and me. Isn’t that great?”
This time she heard a sigh for sure. “Ms. Warner—”
“Olivia, remember?” She laughed nervously. He could not say no. “You can call me Olivia. And it would only take fifteen minutes of your time. I can ask the studio to send a car—”
“I can get there myself—”
“Wonderful! So they’ll probably want us there around six—”
“That wasn’t a confirmation,” he said, cutting her off.
“Well. . .” Olivia wracked her brain, her mind spinning in circles as she calculated her next move. What now? “Why not? I mean, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
“What exactly do you think I have to gain from this situation?”
“You’ll be known as a hero, of course.”
“Olivia,” he began, the sound of her name dripping from his lips in a deep baritone murmur like slow honey. “I play a hero every day, and the novelty’s worn off. So you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
She narrowed her eyes. Why was he being so difficult? Who didn’t want to go on Hollywood’s number one morning show? “Well, exactly,” she said. “You play one. Don’t you want to be known as one in real life?”
“I think I am known as one in real life, depending on who you ask,” he said. “And that’s enough for me. Besides, I don’t know if you know this, but the local news already managed to track me down this morning. I don’t know how, but there they were.”
“Oh. Really?” A mild chuckle escaped Olivia’s lips. “That must have been exciting.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t,” he told her. “The limelight’s not for me.”
“I could pay you again,” she sputtered, a last resort. She bit her lip and waited.
“I don’t want anymore of your money,” he replied. “I just want to go on with my life. My private life.”
She nodded as her eyes heated, on the verge of tears. “I understand,” she said before growing quiet for a moment. “There’s just one more thing I could give you if you decide to do the show with me tomorrow.”
“What’s that?” his voice sounded mildly amused at her determination.
“My sincerest thanks and appreciation,” she told him. “For doing me the biggest favor anyone has ever done me in my entire life.”
“That’s pretty dramatic, don’t you think?”
“I’m being completely serious, Mr. Bradford.”
“Mr. Bradford, huh?” he repeated. “Are we not on that first name basis anymore?”
“We are,” she said tentatively. “Trayce.”
He was quiet. “This is really important to you, isn’t it?”
“Well, I was trying to make that clear,” she replied.
Another pause. “Fine.”
Olivia perked up immediately. “Fine?”
“I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll do the show with you. And then we can put this to bed.”
“Of course!” she exclaimed, palming her hand over her mouth. Calm down, Olivia. “Oh, Trayce, thank you so much. I mean it. You’re seriously saving my. . .”
“Your what?” Trayce asked slowly, interest piquing in his voice.
“Me,” Olivia backpedaled as a nervous laugh escaped the back of her throat. “You’re really saving me.”
“Got it,” he said. “There’s just one condition.”
“What’s that?” she asked, leaning into the phone with anticipation.
“You do most of the talking.”
She laughed. “Are you kidding?”
“I know, I know. No problem for you, I’m sure.”
“Uh, yeah!” she exclaimed before clearing her throat. “I mean. . .I’ll be sure to honor your request.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered. “Listen, I’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Great,” she replied. “See you then.”
Ending the call, Olivia let out an excited burst of exhilaration from within her chest. It was all going to work out, she just knew it, but as a smile spread across her face, she wasn’t sure what she was more excited for—the interview? Or seeing Trayce one more time?
8
As Trayce pulled his bike into the parking lot across the street from the TV studio where Good Morning Hollywood was filmed, he still couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to pinch himself. Was he really doing this? If it hadn’t been for the thick sleeves of his leather jacket, he would have been more tempted to test his hypothesis that this was all just one, weird dream.
The interviews.
The train.
The money.
And Olivia Warner.
That last detail had to be the most unbelievable part of this. The famed actress seemed as perfect as the roles she portrayed on the big screen, on the outside at least. In person, she was audacious, intense, frantic.
Beautiful.
“Olivia,” her name slipped from his lips as he strode into the backstage green room and came face to face with her. She wore a navy sheath dress that hugged her body in all the right ways, a thin black belt accentuating her hourglass waste. Paired with strappy black stilettos, her toes painted a teasing shade of burgundy, and her hair hanging loosely around her face, the sight of her nearly stunned him into silence. Nearly. “You look. . .”
She glanced down, a slight blush tinting her cheeks before she looked up again. “Thanks.”
The assistant who had escorted him to the back smiled at them politely as she adjusted the headset she wore on her ears. “Your timeslot should be about fifteen minutes from now. I’ll have someone from makeup check in with you shortly,” she said before leaving and shutting the door behind her, leaving them alone together.
Forcing his eyes away from Olivia, Trayce pulled his jacket off and laid it on one of the couches that framed the small room. “I was hoping you were going to leave it,” he heard her say from behind him. Turning, she offered a crooked smile. “I thought you were going for the whole bad boy sort of image.”
“Image, huh?” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I do those.”
“Well,” she nodded. “You look nice like that anyway.”
He adjusted the sleeves of the dress shirt he had rolled halfway up his forearms. He didn’t wear this type of clothes often. When he wasn’t in costume, he was usually somewhere between home, the gym, or tumbling over mats as he rehearsed his next series of stunts, none of which required more than a simple T-shirt and the best pair of pants that would fit the job. But as he caught sight of himself in the long mirror that hung on the back of the green room door, he conceded he didn’t look half bad. Still, it was good to have her approval. He wanted it. The only question was why?
Because you want her.
He turned away again, alarmed at where his own thoughts had taken him. Forget way out of his league. He and Olivia were from different worlds, and the sooner he got that through his head the better.
“Thank you, again,” she said. “For coming today.”
He looked at her, stuffing his hands into his pockets casually. “Like I said,” he told her. “Seemed important.”
“It is,” she agreed, her lips parting slightly at words she wouldn’t say.
He held her gaze for a moment, neither of them daring to look away before a knock at the door startled them both. A woman peeked in, her dark blue eyeshadow swooping over her eyes dramatically. “I’m Cindy from makeup, is now a good time?”
Olivia let out a small laugh, masking her surprise. “Come on in, Cindy.”
The woman stepped into the room, an apron full of makeup brushes tied around the waist of a chic black smock. “Well, you look perfect already, don’t you?” she addressed Olivia with a grin.
Olivia returned her smile. “Oh you know, I had the glam squad pull out all the stops this morning, of course.”
�
�Well then I guess that just leaves me with you,” Cindy said, turning her attention to Trayce.
“I guess so,” he said. “Should I sit?”
Cindy tapped the wall behind him. “You can maybe just. . .lean.”
“Okay.” Pressing his shoulders to the wall, he let his back slide against it, bending his knees slightly.
“Perfect,” Cindy said brightly, her fingertips skimming over the skin of his cheek. “This shouldn’t take long anyway. You’re naturally good-looking.” Pulling a brush from her apron, she swept it across his cheekbones, looking him in the eye as she did. “So tall, too. The whole package, really.”
“Thanks,” Trayce murmured. Was she hitting on him, or just making pleasant conversation? Either way, he noted Olivia’s shifting body movements out of the corner of his eye, the way she crossed her arms and looked away, her hair sweeping over her bare shoulder. Was that an eye roll? Was she jealous?
Interesting.
After a moment or two that entailed a bit more sweeping and some slight dabbing, Cindy took a step back. “There we go.” She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Sure you’re not an actor?”
“Uh, nope,” he replied.
“Well,” Cindy said, looking him up and down. “Maybe you should consider it.”
“He’s not into acting, why would he be?” Olivia said suddenly. She stepped forward, her face a mixture of oops and annoyance, both of which she cleared simultaneously so that a tranquil smile was all that was left in their wake. “Thanks for your help, Cindy.”
“My pleasure,” Cindy said, smiling at both of them as she headed toward the door. “Have a good show, you two.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said, watching as she closed the door behind her before turning back to Trayce. “Well she was an interesting one, wasn’t she?”
Trayce shrugged. “Seems like makeup artists are always a little chatty. It’s part of the job.”
“Well, she was more than a little chatty, I’d say,” Olivia noted. “She was downright flirty.”