Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel) (25 page)

Delaney smiled because that felt like a compliment. “I’ve tried being a different person, and it turns out I liked it, only it wasn’t so much about being different as it was about being authentic. I think I got so caught up in creating a show
about
my life, I forgot about actually
living
a life. Remember how you and I used to volunteer at that music studio? I want to do that again. We had fun, but better than that, it was a really valuable thing that we did for those kids. We made a difference in their lives just by sharing time with them and teaching them a little music. I want to do more stuff like that, things with some substance, stuff that actually adds value to humanity. Honestly, I don’t think the world really needs another celebrity stylist, plus I’m not really cut out for it.”

Her dad’s eyes widened as she spoke, the coffee cup hovering forgotten near his lips.

“What the hell happened to you out there in the real world?”

“I’m not sure.”

He brought the chair down to four legs again. “Well, whatever it is, I like it. I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me for running away?”

“Proud of you for taking the time you needed and then coming home stronger. It takes a lot of guts to face this music but it sure sounds like you’re taking charge of things now.”

“Maybe. A friend recently told me it’s better to be the sheepdog than the sheep.”

Chapter 26

GRANT CONNELLY STOOD IN LINE
at Gibson’s grocery store the day after returning to Bell Harbor and realized something he’d never even considered before. It’s entirely surreal to see your face on the cover of a magazine. But there he was, right on the front of some glossy celebrity gossip sheet.

It was a picture of him and Lane, all snuggled up on the piano bench in the Jungle Room Lounge. How the hell had a picture like that found its way into the news? He pulled the magazine from the rack, left his cart off to the side, and wandered dazedly over to the little coffee shop inside the grocery store. Sitting down at a table, he opened the pages to find half a dozen pictures of the two of them, all lousy quality photographs, obviously taken by an amateur opportunist with a cell phone, but just as obviously them.

The headline of the corresponding article read
MISSING IN ACTION?

While we’re very glad to report that
Pop Rocks
star Delaney Masterson is no longer missing, it’s clear she’s still getting some action. Hiding out at the Heartbreak Hotel in Memphis, Tennessee, recently with cinematographer boyfriend Grant Connelly, the 27-year-old celebrity stylist looks anything but heartbroken. Sources close to the pair say the canoodling was impossible to miss.

“They were kissing and laughing and totally into each other,” reported the confidential source.

Connelly, 31, a coproducer and director of photography for the popular action-adventure show
One Man, One Planet
was recently fired, but lucky for him, if he’s looking for a “job,” he’s found the right girl. Although sources report she seems to be splitting her time between Connelly and Paradise Brothers front man Reggie Bryce, 29. It was Bryce who escorted Masterson to the Memphis airport days later, leaving us to wonder who she might be flying mile-high with next.

What a steaming pile of horseshit.

No wonder Delaney tried to hide away from this kind of crap. For one thing, he hadn’t been fired, but that lie wasn’t even worth being upset about compared to the slanderous innuendos made about Lane jumping from man to man. It just wasn’t true.

He knew that now. A little distance from the situation had helped Grant understand that the honky-tonk huckster had never been an issue. Not because Reggie was such a stand-up guy, but because Grant knew Lane.

The feeling knocked him forward.

He knew Lane.

That idea had clung to him ever since leaving Memphis yesterday, but seeing this article drove the point home. He did know her. Whatever she called herself, he’d seen everything that was real about her. Everything that mattered. It still hurt that she’d lied, and it was humiliating too, but having had some time to think about things, he wondered if maybe he’d been unfair. She wasn’t Miranda, and after hearing Finch and Humphrey talk about her reaction to the paparazzi, he knew fame hadn’t been her goal after all. The magazines had lied.

The truth was, maybe some of the details about her life weren’t as important as he’d originally thought, or as nearly important as how he’d
felt
. He’d followed his instincts with her, and it had all felt right. It was just too bad he couldn’t decide what his instincts were telling him now.

He looked down at the photos again. There was one of them facing each other, smiling and leaning close. His hand was on her leg. Her hand was curled around the side of his neck, as if she was pulling him close to whisper some naughty secret. He remembered that moment. He couldn’t think of what she’d said just then, but he remembered the feel of her lips as she’d pressed a kiss just below his ear seconds later.

Whump went his heart, as if the thing was trying to get his brain’s attention. This was how she made him feel. Breathless. Dizzy. Overheated. He missed her. More than he’d ever imagined it was possible to miss a woman. More than he’d ever known it was possible to
love
a woman. He did love her, still, whether her name was Elaine or Delaney or Mary or Sue. He just wasn’t sure if it was real.

He’d wanted to call her a hundred times since she’d ridden away in the taxi after leaving his aunt’s house, but pride was a buzzkill stopping him each time. Then he’d been busy making travel arrangements and getting his mother home. They’d arrived back in Bell Harbor late last night, and Carl, God love him, had welcomed her back with open arms and a sloe gin fizz, so at least that had gone well.

Now Grant was on his way to Tyler’s house to have dinner with him and Evie. He’d only stopped at the grocery store to pick up a bottle of wine, so he couldn’t call Lane now. It wouldn’t be a fast conversation, and he wasn’t even sure what he’d say. Until he had things figured out . . . well, he just couldn’t call her right now.

He pulled up at his brother’s house fifteen minutes later with two bottles of wine and one tabloid magazine—because he needed some advice. Tyler seemed to have a much better handle on this whole relationship thing than he did. Maybe his brother could tell him what the hell to do.

“Just call her, you jackass. If she doesn’t hang up on you, then keep talking.”

That had been his brother’s not-so-helpful advice.

“That’s it?” Grant said as he uncorked the first bottle of wine. “You just got back from your honeymoon and that’s the best, most romantic advice you can offer? What the hell am I supposed to say to her? Hi, total stranger. I’m still really angry that you lied to me about everything, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“No,” Evie said, walking into the kitchen where the brothers were discussing Grant’s current predicament. “Skip the part about being angry. She already knows you’re angry, but definitely tell her you can’t stop thinking about her. Women love hearing that.”

She ran a hand along Tyler’s waist as she walked by. They’d been doing that all night, that seemingly unconscious touching. It was like sharing a meal with static cling.

It was also more than a little awkward discussing this topic in front of his new sister-in-law. They hardly knew each other, but if Evie could shed some light on what he should do, he’d listen. Tyler was proving to be much less useful than he’d hoped.

Grant turned to Evie instead. “So, I tell her I’m thinking about her, and then what?”

“Tell her why.”

“Why . . . what?”

Evie’s smile was patient. “Why you can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Oh, but I’m not . . . I’m not sure why I can’t stop thinking about her.” He felt like someone had asked him to do a very complicated story problem in math class. It was making him sweat.

“OK, then, what things are you thinking about? What are you remembering?”

Vision upon erotic vision crashed into his brain all at once, each one involving Lane, and each one sending heat to his face. The X rating must have been obvious.

His brother started laughing.

Evie blushed. “Oh. Well, tell her that then.”

“Listen,” Tyler said a moment later, “I don’t know what you should say, or honestly even what you should do, but it seems pretty obvious you have feelings for this woman and the only foolish thing would be to not give it another chance. Sometimes life gives you a do-over, so make the most of it. Call her. And don’t be a douche bag.”

MY SISTER WOULD KILL ME IF SHE KNEW I WAS SENDING U A TEXT, BUT U SHOULD WATCH TONIGHT’S SPECIAL EPISODE OF POP ROCKS. STARTS IN 15. JUST SAYIN. MELODY MASTERSON

Dinner was over and the second bottle of wine was almost finished when that text showed up on Grant’s phone. He stared at it for a full minute, wondering if he’d had too much to drink and read it wrong. Maybe his brain was imagining things.

“Bad news?” Tyler finally asked.

“I’m not sure. It’s from Lane’s sister.”

Evie’s eyes lit up. She’d had on lots of makeup at the wedding, but tonight without any she looked more sweet than elegant. She was still completely out of his brother’s league, but after spending this evening together, talking and laughing and getting better acquainted, he could see she and Tyler really were ideal for each other. It made Grant happy for them, but reminded him of just what he was missing.

“A text? What’s it say?” she asked.

“It says I should watch
Pop Rocks
tonight, in fifteen minutes.” He couldn’t decide how he felt about that. His instinct wires were crossing again. Falling in love had made him a second-guesser.

Evie sat forward. “Really? Want to watch it here?” It was obvious she was now fully invested in the outcome of this relationship.

“I don’t know if I want to watch it at all.” But he knew he would. Even if it was like watching a car crash, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look away, and he’d have to watch it here because he still had yet to hook up any sort of television at his house.

Tyler stood up. “We might need more wine.”

Fifteen minutes passed in a blink and Grant realized he should’ve gone home just as soon as the opening credits began. Sitting here watching
his Elaine
traipse about in some palatial Beverly Hills home was going to make his head explode. Would her hair be blonde again? Would she even sound the same? Did she know the picture of the two of them together at the Heartbreak Hotel had been splashed all over a tabloid magazine? Was she hurt, mad, vengeful, relieved? Inquiring minds wanted to know.

Then there she was, on the screen. Her hair was still dark but straighter. He liked the waves better but this wasn’t too drastic. She had on a plain white blouse and jeans, and was sitting cross-legged in a flowered armchair in an average-looking living room. And she was barefoot. For some reason that melted his defenses just a little bit more. Maybe some part of him had worried she’d be that Delaney from the first magazine, with the slinky dress or the tight miniskirt. Not that she hadn’t looked smokin’ in those outfits, but barefoot in jeans, that was Elaine. That was the one he’d fallen for.

A bleached-blonde interviewer sat across from Delaney in another chair. She made some inane introductions, explaining that this was a special segment leading into tonight’s regular episode.

Tyler and Evie fell silent as the show progressed, or maybe they’d gotten up and left the room, or maybe they were having wild monkey sex right behind the couch. He really had no idea, because his eyes, ears, and heart were focused on the screen as all his senses tried to communicate with Delaney through the airwaves.

The interviewer smiled, showing off perfectly white teeth. “Delaney, I know your family is happy to have you back safe and sound. Can you share with the viewers what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks?”

Would she mention him? The house, the car, the tour bus, the hotel? The stolen backpack? The love? Any of it?

Lane smiled and gave a little laugh to cover up her hiccup. He might not have even noticed the hiccup if he didn’t know her so well.

“The last few weeks have been . . . memorable for a lot of reasons. I’d like to focus on what I’ve learned rather than the specifics of where I was or what I was doing. First of all, I’ve realized that even though I share part of my life with the public, that doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to privacy. Everyone has a right to privacy, especially in the bedroom.”

Grant took a glug of wine as Lane continued.

“As most viewers are aware, a video of me surfaced recently that was recorded and distributed without my knowledge or consent. That’s not only hurtful to me and my family, it’s also illegal and I intend to have the person responsible prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

Another glug. He might need the bottle.

“So you will be pursuing legal action against Boyd Hampton?” the interviewer asked.

“Absolutely.”

“That must be an awful burden to carry around, knowing that the video exists. How do you feel about that?”

“I admit it bothers me. It’s embarrassing, but the thing I’ve learned from this experience is that you should never let anyone else determine how you feel about yourself. If someone takes advantage of you, speak up.”

If someone takes advantage? Is that what had really happened? Remorse swept over him. The only thing he’d seen or heard was that single magazine article suggesting she released the video herself, and he’d hesitated to give her the benefit of the doubt. She’d told him as much, but he hadn’t believed her, and that made him nearly as big of a jerk as the guy who’d made that video in the first place. Nearly.