Exposed to You (6 page)

Her one criticism of her appearance was the lack of her long mane of chestnut brown hair. It would have looked perfect with the dress. She’d combed back her short hair for a sophisticated, simple look. She touched the strands on her neck, hating them, longing for her tumbling tresses . . . wishing for the confidence she’d possessed before her cancer diagnosis.

The loss of her hair had brought back so much to her—shaving her mom’s head as a mother and daughter ritual on three different occasions, putting on the act that shopping for a wig was fun. No wonder Samson’s hair had meant life and vitality in the myth. She suspected every cancer patient and survivor understood the analogy.

The buzzer going off made her jump.

“Hi,” she said into the intercom in her foyer a few seconds later.

“Hi.”

Reality shuddered through her at the sound of his deep voice.

“I just have to grab my purse. Do you want to come up, or should I come down?”

“I’ll come up.”

She pushed the release on the downstairs lock. A few seconds later she swung open the door.

“Wow.”

He’d said it, but he’d stolen the word straight from her mouth.

“You look wonderful,” she murmured, her gaze gliding over him. It fascinated her how he could epitomize shabby insouciance one moment and elegant male sophistication the next. Maybe it was just because he possessed an amazing body that he could wear anything; apparel was just a negligently donned accessory to the man beneath it. He wore a classic black tux, white dress shirt with wing collar, points tucked behind a black bow tie. His hair looked neat for once, combed back in glossy waves. The overall look was immaculate and utterly masculine.

His eyes gleamed as they moved over her, making her self-conscious in an entirely different way than she’d felt just moments ago.

“I’m glad you chose the tux over the bowling shirt,” she said, grinning.

“I’m still partial to your jean shorts,” he murmured as his gaze roved over her belly and breasts, “but this dress has its charms. At least it does on you.” He met her stare, his eyes warm. “You’re beautiful.”

She didn’t know what to say. If it’d sounded like flattery, it would have been one thing. It hadn’t, though. The compliment had sounded candid and a little amazed.

She turned, anxious to hide her embarrassment. “I’ll just get my purse.”

She returned a moment later carrying the gold clutch that matched her high-heeled sandals. She noticed his raised eyebrows.

“What?” she asked, approaching him. He cupped her hip in his palm. She focused on his small, teasing smile and the way her heart raced at his touch, letting his charm and her excitement silence her anxiety.

“Have you seen what you look like from the back? Are you trying to kill me or what?” he murmured.

She laughed, and then shocked herself by drawing nearer, letting the front of her body brush lightly against him. She craned up and pressed her lips to his. By the time she took a step back, he looked like she’d slugged him instead of kissed him.

He also looked pleased . . . and aroused.

“You’ll just have to stay beside me all night and never fall behind. I have no malicious intent in mind,” she murmured.

“Are you kidding? And let all the other guys have the pleasure of seeing the best pair of legs this side of the Atlantic?” he asked with a look of mock scandal. He took her hand and opened the door wider, urging her to walk ahead of him. “I don’t think so. Not when those legs belong to my date.”

Maybe it was something in the way he’d said it, but remembering those words gave her a sense of newfound security. No matter how crazy and temporary this thing with Everett was, he clearly wanted to be with her tonight. Even when their limousine passed the security check and proceeded down Illinois Avenue—people were packed like sardines on either side of the street—the spell lingered. It was Everett and the other artists who had created
Maritime
’s night. She knew—better than many—how much meticulous detail and hard work went into such a gargantuan production. She was proud to be there as his guest.

Besides, if you think for a second anyone is going to pay attention to you when you’re with Everett Hughes, you’re
so
flattering yourself.

Despite her self-assurances, her heart lurched when the limousine came to a halt in front of the red carpet and canopy that had been set up in the entrance of the AMC East 21 Theatres. She heard a muffled cheer go up in the crowd. She peered out the window and had the brief, flashing vision of several teenagers and a middle-aged couple staring at the limo with rapt excitement.

“They’re all usually really nice people,” he said. “Not what you’d think.”

She stared back at him, eyes wide. The driver didn’t immediately exit. Everett took her hand. For a few seconds, they seemed to exist in some kind of surreal bubble of invisibility in the very midst of a clamoring crowd.

“You okay?” he murmured.

She nodded, taking heart from his warm gaze on her face.

“It wasn’t a great first date idea. I see that now. But again—I was selfish.”

“It’s a wonderful first date. I’m really looking forward to seeing the film.”

“Yeah. You probably tell your dentist the same thing about your next appointment. We could have seen this at a matinee in a few days,” he said, his mouth twitching in a combination of regret and amusement.

“No. It’s your special night.”

“And Seth’s, too,” he reminded her.

Joy nodded. “I’m
glad
you asked me to share it.”

His grin vanished. He leaned over and kissed her. His lips almost immediately parted hers, his tongue sliding between them. He tasted like he’d sucked on a peppermint just minutes ago. He tasted like sex.

He tasted like heaven.

Joy made a muffled sound in her throat and returned the kiss, going from warm to a low simmer in a matter of seconds. It was strange to feel her body awaken so immediately after what she’d been through in the last year, sense her flesh flooding with new life. He applied a slight suction as their tongues dueled and tangled sensually. She felt that sweet pull all the way to her sex. He swept his hand along her bare shoulder and cupped the side of her neck, his thumb beneath her chin, holding her steady for his ravishment of her mouth.

Someone let out a shrill shriek of excitement that penetrated the cocoon of the limo. Everett sealed the kiss, but his head remained bent over hers. He studied her somberly, his eyelids narrowed.

“God, Joy. Why do I want you so much?”

Five

She swallowed thickly when she heard his muted incredulity. He must have read the confusion on her face.

“Don’t say anything. I know you don’t have the answer any more than I do. I only think it’s fair to warn you, that’s all,” he muttered. He glanced out the door into the sunny, hot summer evening before he turned back to her. “I usually sign a few autographs before I go in, but I won’t if you don’t want me to. Then I’m going to do a couple really quick interviews, but I won’t be long. My agent planned it so that I did most of them earlier today.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “And of course you should sign some autographs. I can just imagine how long those people have been waiting.”

He nodded once and lifted his hand as if to knock on the glass that separated them from the front seat. “Kenny can take you in to the reception. I told Katie to look out for you, and you might see your uncle at the preparty they have going on upstairs. I won’t take long, I swear.”

“Okay. Wait!”

He turned back to her and she wiped her lipstick off his mouth. Fortunately, she’d chosen a fairly neutral shade. He grinned, did the same for her smudged mouth.

“Perfect,” he said, inspecting her. He tapped on the window between them and the driver, Kenny, and another man who had been introduced to her earlier by the name of Roger. Both men acted in the capacity of driver and security for Everett. The pane lowered.

“Ready?” Kenny asked.

“As we’ll ever be. Can you please escort Joy inside once we get near the doors?”

“My pleasure,” Kenny replied.

The next thing she knew, the door was opening. A shockingly loud cheer went up before Everett ever put his foot on the pavement. Once the crowd caught a glimpse of who the limousine held, the clamor increased several decibels, female shrieks spiking through it. Joy didn’t have an opportunity to be nervous between the cacophonous cheering and shouts for Everett’s attention and the flashing of cameras. Everett leaned into the limo and took her hand, helping her alight. He squeezed it slightly once they both stood on the carpeted sidewalk, and she instinctively paused next to him. She made random eye contact with a girl of about ten with dark bangs and a ponytail, who was looking at her with huge eyes. She smiled.

Lights flashed and people screamed Everett’s name and she was walking by his side toward the doors. Distantly, she realized he was calling hello to the people closest to the fence as if they were his neighbors, asking casually how they were. His manner had a civilizing effect on those nearest to him. They ceased their screaming and just grinned at him from ear to ear, like he was a hero son or brother making his triumphant return home.

He halted a few feet from the glass doors and pulled lightly on Joy’s hand. He swept down and kissed her briefly. The crowd catcalled, and suddenly Joy was being escorted up an escalator by Kenny, the burly driver. Everett had told her that Kenny had worked for him for years now.

“Do you ever get used to it?” Joy asked him, stunned by being in the proximity of so much potent adulation.

“Not really. I thought I’d seen it all being Britney Spears’s bodyguard. But working for Everett trumped that experience—in the most interesting ways,” he said with a rueful smile.

Joy chuckled and followed him off the escalator. She could just imagine. They stepped into a crowd of well-heeled guests sipping champagne. She caught sight of Seth’s head at the far side of the lobby. There was a definite advantage to having a six-foot-four-inch-tall uncle—she could typically spot him in the largest crowds.

Kenny snagged a glass of champagne from a wandering waiter and handed it to her.

“Oh, thank you. I think I see my uncle over there,” she told Kenny.

“Will you be all right if I leave you?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Kenny nodded politely and turned to leave. Wilkie James saw her approaching first. He called out excitedly to her and ran over to give her a hug.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he enthused, stepping back to inspect her. “Look at you—Ellie Granolith is going to be furious that a high school teacher has stolen her thunder on the night of her screening.”

Joy laughed at the reference to the reputedly spoiled, difficult star of the film. She’d never met Ellie personally, but her uncle had been forced to work with her last year repeatedly and had told Joy point-blank that the rumors were 100 percent accurate, if not generous in favor of Ellie.

“Quiet, Wilkie. With your luck, she’s around here lurking behind the ferns or something. That’s the last thing we need to do, insult Ellie Granolith. You look fantastic,” she said, tweaking his bow tie.

“You’re the one who looks fantastic. But why did you cut your hair?” Wilkie asked in his typical candid, irrepressible manner.

She took a sip of champagne to cover her discomfort. None of her L.A. friends knew about her cancer diagnosis. She hadn’t wanted to burden them. Worry and fear were not feelings she cherished passing on to her friends. Joy knew all too well from her experience with her mother that there was nothing they could have done but sit by and watch helplessly.

“Shut it, Wilkie. I think her hair looks stunning,” Seth said, suddenly standing next to both of them. She grinned as Seth swept down to kiss her. “You’re glowing. I’d like to think it’s from excellent health.”

“And aren’t you the handsome devil in your tux?” she complimented, sidestepping his reference to her health.

Seth had been born fourteen years after Joy’s father, making him only ten years older than Joy. She’d adored her uncle Seth for as long as she could recall. As a child, she’d worshipped him like a girl might her affectionate, protective, cool older brother. Even after Joy’s father had left them during Joy’s mom’s protracted illness, Seth had never wavered as the immovable, solid pillar of her life. She suspected she wouldn’t be alive today if Seth hadn’t been there.

“Where’s Everett?” Seth asked her, glancing around. Was that a hint of worry she caught on Seth’s face? She recalled what he’d said yesterday when they spoke on the phone and she’d told him about her date with Everett: At first he’d been silent, but then he’d said, “Everett is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met—movie star or normal guy. But be careful, Joy. I don’t really know him all that well. And their kind really is a different breed.”

Joy had gotten what Seth meant. Everett belonged in the highest realms, that narrow band where the stars burned most brilliant. Yet she innately understood that Everett Hughes would resent being confined to such a shallow sphere.

“He’s doing a few interviews. He said he’d be right up,” she answered her uncle.

“Everett who?” Wilkie asked, his youthful face tightening with incredulity, as if he was sure he must have been mistaken in what he’d heard.

“The man himself—Everett Hughes,” Seth said with dry amusement. He nodded toward the direction of the escalators, where everyone’s attention seemed to be turning. Joy caught a glimpse of Everett’s golden head. Like her uncle, he rose above the crowd.

Wilkie blanched. “What? You go crazy and abandon us by moving to Chicago, and the next thing I know, you start looking like you were born on the red carpet and dating Everett Hughes? What is going on? Someone has got some storytelling to do.”

Joy was laughing at the thought of offering a highly edited explanation of how she’d ended up as Everett’s date when she heard her named called.

“Katie,” she greeted her warmly. Katie breezed up to her, looking lovely in the floral chiffon, her hair spilling around her shoulders. She gave Joy a quick hug.

“You look fantastic. I knew you would,” she told Joy confidentially under her breath. “Joy Hightower, this is my husband, Rill.”

“Hello. It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Joy greeted him breathlessly, shaking hands with Rill Pierce. Katie’s husband looked ruggedly handsome in his tux, but he seemed tense.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Katie told Joy in a subdued voice that managed to carry. “He’s just grouchy because Ellie Granolith was badgering him a moment ago about putting her in
Razor Pass
, Rill’s latest project. When he told her he’d already chosen Jennifer Turner for the part, she told him Irish whiskey must have killed his sense of taste. Rill told her vodka must have done the same for her sense of reality if she really thought there was a chance he’d cast her.”

They all glanced at Seth when he made a snorting sound.

“Oh, this is my uncle, Seth Hightower, and Wilkie James, one of Hightower Special Effects artists,” Joy said. “Rill and Katie Pierce.”

“I’m sorry,” Seth said, trying to hide his laughter. “It’s just . . . I worked with Ellie. The comment about the vodka was dead-on.” Seth shook Rill’s hand. Joy blinked at the sudden appearance of Rill’s brilliant smile. Katie certainly was a lucky woman.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time,” Rill told Seth. “I would have tried to contact you sooner, but Katie suggested I might meet you in person tonight. Would you consider working on my next film?” Joy heard Rill ask Seth.

A thrill of excitement went through her for Seth. Working for Rill Pierce was something he’d always hoped to do. Someone touched her bare shoulder. The shiver that went through her told her who it was. She turned.

“Have I missed anything?” Everett asked, his gaze on her face. She shook her head, struck momentarily speechless by the sight of him. Her heart throbbed against her breastbone when he put his arm around her and caressed the bare skin of her upper arm.

“No. We were just waiting for you. Should we go up?” Katie asked, glancing from Everett to Joy over to Rill, who was too busy conversing with Seth and gesturing broadly to notice her question. She cupped her husband’s elbow and tapped Seth. Both men blinked distractedly and glanced down at her.

“Come on, you can talk business on the way up to the theater. It’s showtime, folks.”

Everett’s hand slid down Joy’s arm and he took her hand. For once, she didn’t have the wherewithal to hide her excitement—or her attraction—when he glanced back at her and gave a slow smile.

*   *   *

Several hours later, Joy slid into a circular leather booth, highly conscious of Everett following her. The premiere had been a huge success, the audience’s approval of the groundbreaking film evident in the ebullient mood of the crowd and the standing ovation after the final scene. Seth’s makeup had been stunning. Everett’s performance had been riveting. She’d lost herself in the film, her rapt focus only breaking when Everett caressed her hand or shifted slightly in his seat, his trousers brushing against her thigh.

It was a little like waking up from one fantasy to find herself in another, even more compelling one.

Joy couldn’t believe she’d survived the difficult part. The glitter and manic energy of the premiere were over. Now Everett and she were alone in a private, draped-off room at the Capital Grille, and the euphoria of the evening mingled with a heart-racing sense of anticipation.

Everett touched her neck. She turned, only to find that he was close. He kissed her, his lips firm and hungry.

“I like you like this,” he said a moment later, his mouth hovering near hers.

“Like what?”

“You seem happy . . . Available.”

She laughed. “
Available
? I think I’ve made it pretty clear I’m available, haven’t I?”

He didn’t reply immediately, just studied her closely while he caressed the juncture between her neck and shoulder, his hand moving seductively over the single strap of her dress.

“I suppose,” he murmured after a second. He leaned back. “But your guard is up at times.”

Joy opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but the waiter entered the curtained-off area of the private room. After they’d placed their orders and were alone again, Joy spoke.

“What did you mean, my ‘guard is up at times’?”

He shrugged and took a sip of his ice water. “It is, isn’t it? You’re not too certain about the idea of getting involved with me.” He set his glass down and met her stare levelly. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “I’m not one of those people who lets Hollywood go to their head, Joy. I know reality from fantasy.”

She glanced away from his piercing gaze. “It’s heady stuff—the crowds, the adulation, the praise from millions. If you can tell the difference between reality and fantasy, my hat goes off to you. I wasn’t even the focus of it tonight, but I was affected by it,” she admitted, considering the golden glow of excitement that surrounded her. Was that the type of experience her father had craved, both as a race car driver and a manager for a high-profile Formula 1 racing team?

She glanced at Everett. “I don’t think you can’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy. You’re very down-to-earth—shockingly so, considering your job.”

“Then why the hesitance about going out with me?” he challenged quietly.

She inhaled slowly. “Maybe it’s me I’m concerned about. I’m worried I might give in to the lure of it all.”

His brow crinkled in confusion. “You don’t strike me as the fame-starved type, Joy.”

She laughed. “I’m far from wanting attention. If anything, I’d rather avoid it.”

“That’s what I thought. So what did you mean, ‘the lure of it all’?”

Her gaze flickered across his handsome, sober face. “I meant the lure of you.”

His mouth tightened. “That’s a nice thing to say. I think.”

She smiled. “I haven’t been dating much recently. To suddenly be on a date again—and not with just anyone or on any date, but one with Everett Hughes on the night of a premiere—well, it’s a little overwhelming,” she admitted, taking a sip of her water.

She’d put dating and men on the back burner since she’d learned of her cancer diagnosis. She’d been declared cancer free, but the threat still lingered like a toxic cloud. To Joy, the whole experience of doing battle with death had been a highly personal experience. She’d even kept Seth at the periphery, never allowing her uncle into the central arena where her fears and anguish resided.

“How come you haven’t been dating? Bad breakup?” he added when she didn’t immediately respond. She was spared having to answer when the waiter entered the private dining room with their drinks. While they were served, she had the opportunity to come up with an answer for Everett. She turned to him once the waiter had left.