Damage Control (The Hollywood Series Book 2) (30 page)

Her fingers tightly gripping the earplugs, Grace trudged to her suite, where she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

CHAPTER 21

Grace felt as if she were moving in slow motion as she stuffed the rest of her belongings into her carry-on and tried to get the zipper to close.

A knock on the door interrupted before she could win the battle.

“Mom,” she called on her way to the door. “I think it’s time to leave for the airport.”

When she opened the door, Lauren stood in front of her, wearing dark gray slacks and a white button-down. She balanced three paper cups of coffee in her hands while newspapers were tucked beneath one arm. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Grace stepped aside to let her in and gratefully accepted the coffee Lauren handed her. “Oh, thanks. You’re a lifesaver. We’ll be ready in a second.” She took a healthy sip of coffee before putting the paper cup down to fight with the carry-on.

Her mother bustled back and forth between the living area and her bedroom. “I hope you chose a better hotel in Berlin,” she said to Lauren instead of a greeting or a thank-you for the coffee Lauren had brought her. “My mattress was too hard. I didn’t sleep a wink.”

Grace grinned. For a woman who hadn’t slept a wink, her mother had snored pretty loudly. She turned away from the carry-on to search Lauren’s gaze and share her mirth with her.

But Lauren wasn’t looking at her face.

Did she just check out my ass?

“Um, let me try.” Lauren set down her coffee and the newspapers and bent over the suitcase, forcing the zipper closed with brute strength. “There. Take a look at the newspapers before we head out.”

Grace’s hands went cold. She knew what the newspapers held—reviews of
Ava’s Heart
. For a moment, she considered telling Lauren she didn’t want to know, but then she’d only imagine all kinds of negative things. Besides, Lauren wouldn’t bring over the newspapers first thing in the morning if the critics had torn the movie or her performance to pieces.

With slightly trembling fingers, she unfolded the first newspaper and skimmed the review, reading bits and pieces.
Given that I didn’t care much for Ms. Durand’s last movie, I attended the world premiere of
Ava’s Heart
with relatively low expectations.
She grimaced and read on.
Grace Durand and Russ Vinson star in an epic love story in which hope and grief collide… Bla, bla, bla…
She skipped ahead to where the critic talked about the performances of the actors.
The performances were a bit unbalanced. While Russ Vinson couldn’t quite keep up with his co-stars, Jill Corrigan was a scene-stealer every time she appeared on screen. Grace Durand gave an outstanding performance as the movie’s title character, displaying just the right mix of strength and vulnerability.

Breathing more easily, she opened the next newspaper.
Grace Durand shines as Ava. This might very well be her breakthrough to a different kind of acting.

When she dropped the newspapers back on the table, it was as if managing to throw off a big weight that had rested on her chest for the last few months. Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. She spun around the room, spreading her arms wide.

“Careful.” Lauren caught her before she could stumble over the suitcases and take a nosedive.

Grace gripped Lauren’s upper arms. “They liked it! They liked me!”

Grinning, Lauren pulled her close in a jubilant embrace. “Of course they did.”

Her voice rumbled through Grace, making her eyes flutter shut. Every last bit of stress and exhaustion left Grace’s body as she rested against Lauren.

Loudly clearing her throat, Grace’s mother brushed past them. “We need to get going. Ms. Pearce, could you take the dress bags?”

Grace felt as if she’d been immersed in the scene of a movie and now the director had called, “Cut!” A little disoriented, she let go of Lauren and went to get her suitcase.

Berlin, Rome, and Madrid passed by in a blur of PR activities for Lauren. In each city, they went through the same whirlwind of emotions—the stress of back-to-back interviews, nervousness right before the premiere, exhaustion during the after-party, and finally, joy and relief when the reviews came in the next morning. So far, the majority of the reactions from the press had been positive.

Lauren hadn’t gotten another exuberant hug from Grace, but she’d dreamed about it. Twice. Of course, in her dreams, the hug hadn’t ended with Grace’s mother interrupting. Instead, Grace had kissed her and then dragged her to the bedroom and made love to her.

Maybe it was a good thing they’d fly back home tomorrow. Rooming door-to-door, spending every waking minute together had forged an unexpected closeness that Lauren had never felt with any of her other clients. Just one more afternoon of interviews, one last premiere, one last after-party here in Paris and she could get some much-needed distance.

When the last journalist left, Grace sank against the back of her chair, arms dangling to both sides, her head tilted back in a way that exposed the length of her throat. Her very kissable throat.

Lauren quickly looked away.

“When he asked how I like the city, I really had to think about where I am for a second.” Grace straightened and rubbed her eyes. “Can you believe I’ve been in Paris at least half a dozen times, yet all I’ve ever seen are the airport, a handful of hotels, and the theaters where the movies premiered? I spent some time in Spain and England, but except for work, I haven’t been to France.”

“Really? You haven’t even seen the Eiffel Tower?”

“I’ve seen it—from the back of a limo. But even if I had the time, can you imagine what would happen if Grace Durand stood in line to get to the top of the tower like a mere mortal?” Resignation flickered in Grace’s eyes. “Guess I’ll have to shoot a movie on the tower, or I’ll never get to see it up close.”

Lauren frowned. When Grace left to get changed for the premiere, Lauren reached for her phone. “Sébastien? Hi, this is Lauren Pearce. Do you have a minute? I need a favor…”

Grace felt as if she would start to scream if she had to shake one more hand, kiss one more cheek, or make small talk with one more person. She had been circulating the banquet room where the after-party was held for what seemed like an eternity but was, in fact, only half an hour.

When someone called her name, she gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and then turned with the friendliest smile she could muster. Relieved, she realized that it was just Lauren, who waved her over. Her familiar face was a welcome sight in this crazy circus of strangers.

“Ready to get out of here?” Lauren asked when Grace reached her.

Grace stared, for a moment not sure if she’d heard her correctly. “Please tell me you’re not kidding.”

“I’m not kidding,” Lauren said with a grin.

“But I can’t just leave this early…can I?”

“Sure you can. Who’s gonna stop you?”

Grace grimaced and muttered, “My mother, for one thing.”

“I don’t think so. I told her I’m going to whisk you away for an interview with the French press. But don’t worry; it’s not true. We’re going somewhere much more fun.” Lauren guided her to the door, using the same excuse for anyone who wanted to stop them to chat with Grace.

Outside, a limousine with tinted windows idled at the curb. Lauren pulled open the rear door and ushered Grace onto the backseat before climbing in after her. The driver pulled away immediately, without having to be told where to go.

Grace squinted at Lauren. “This seems like a pretty well-organized kidnapping attempt. Where are you taking me?”

A hint of a smirk played around Lauren’s lips. “What kind of kidnapper would I be if I told you?”

“A nice one.” Grace batted her lashes at her. “Please?”

At first, Lauren shook her head, but then she melted under Grace’s pleading gaze. “All right. But don’t complain about me spoiling the surprise.”

“I won’t. So?”

“I thought you might like to go all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower before we leave Paris.”

Grace blinked. “You’re taking me to the Eiffel Tower? Now?”

“It’s open until midnight, so we should have enough time to make it to the top. Or would you rather go somewhere else?”

“I’m not exactly dressed to go up a one-thousand-foot tower, but what the heck…” She let out a giddy laugh. “Let’s do this.”

“Actually, I thought of that too.” Lauren bent and pulled out a plastic bag from beneath the passenger seat. She raised the black privacy screen and emptied the contents of the bag onto the seat between them. A pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, a pair of sneakers, and a baseball cap slid out.

Grace groaned at the sight of the sneakers. Her feet had been killing her in her high heels for at least the last hour. “Oh my God. Just for this, you deserve a raise. A big one. How did you know what sizes to buy?”

“I googled it.”

Grace thought she hadn’t heard correctly. “Are you saying that information is on the Internet somewhere?”

Lauren nodded. “Right down to your shoe and bra size.”

“Wow. That’s amazing—and not in a good way.” It probably didn’t matter, but it still felt like an invasion of her privacy.

Lauren regarded her with a compassionate gaze. “It sucks; I know. But maybe you can console yourself with the fact that your measurements are a lot more flattering than those of most other people.”

Grace tried to shake her feelings and focus on the moment. Eager to get out of the restricting clothes and into the more comfortable ones Lauren had provided, she peered around. She knew no one could see her through the tinted windows with the privacy screen up, but it still felt weird. “Should I just change here?”

“We don’t have time to stop by the hotel. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Grace kicked off her high heels. She’d shot love scenes in front of an entire camera team, for movies that were seen by millions of people, so getting changed in front of Lauren was no big deal, right? But for some reason, it was.
Oh, come on. She’s seen a half-dressed woman before. Naked ones too.

Then she realized that Lauren had turned away to give her some privacy. She had pulled a second plastic bag out from somewhere and was now struggling to get out of her pantsuit and into something more comfortable.

Quickly, Grace turned toward her own side of the limo. She twisted to open her dress but the zipper was somewhere between her shoulder blades, where she couldn’t get to it. “Uh, Lauren? I can’t reach the zipper. Would you mind?” She glanced over her shoulder.

Lauren had stripped off her blazer and blouse. Grace caught a glimpse of smooth-looking skin and firm breasts encased in a white bra before Lauren wrestled a sweatshirt over her head.

Cheeks flaming, Grace turned on the seat, presenting her back to Lauren.

“Oh, sure.” Lauren moved Grace’s hair out of the way, softly placing it over one shoulder. The fingers grazing the bare skin on Grace’s back were warm and gentle.

Only when Grace had to suck in a lungful of air did she realize she’d held her breath.
It’s just Lauren,
she told herself.
Why are you so nervous?

Lauren took her hands away. “There.”

A shiver went through Grace. She clutched the dress to her chest and cleared her throat. “Thank you.” She dropped the dress and picked up the sweatshirt.

Quickly, Lauren turned back toward the window.

It took some maneuvering within the confines of the backseat, but finally, Grace had managed to shimmy into the jeans and the sweatshirt. “All done.”

Lauren, now fully dressed too, turned to face forward. Were her cheeks flushed?

Before she could take a closer look, the limo stopped within direct view of the Eiffel Tower. Grace had never seen it so up close and personal. From the distance, it looked slender, almost delicate, but when they climbed out of the limousine, she stared at the tower’s four massive legs.

“Wow.”

Lauren laughed and led her across the street, toward the tower. “Wait until we’re at the top to say that.”

Even at this hour, there was a line in front of the ticket window, but Lauren held up two tickets and pulled her toward the elevator.

Grace kept her head down while they waited so that the bill of the baseball cap hid her features. No one seemed to pay her any attention. She marveled at the freedom of being just another tourist.

Finally, it was their turn to board the elevator. People crowded in after them, jostling Grace and pressing her against Lauren. The elevator climbed so fast that she was glad for Lauren’s steadying support against her back. Excitement skittered up and down her spine as the elevator rose higher and gave her a glimpse of Paris from above. The illuminated steel beams they passed gleamed like gold against the backdrop of darkness.

At the second level, Lauren led them to another elevator, which carried them all the way to the top. A cool wind tugged on Grace’s sweatshirt as soon as the elevator doors slid open. Ignoring it, she headed straight for the edge of the observation platform and looked through the wire cage.

From up here, she had a sweeping view of Paris. Glowing bands—the large boulevards of the city—stretched out below. Bridges spanned the Seine, their lights reflecting off the water.

Lauren stepped next to her, so close that their shoulders brushed, and pointed out some of the illuminated monuments to the north. “I guess that’s why they call Paris the city of lights.”