Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin (10 page)

W
hen she didn’t say anything about the dress, Ward wondered if she would wear it. So he was pleased when he stopped by her house to pick her up and found her dressed in it. She looked exactly as he’d imagined. And, yes, he’d even imagined the frown.

“I’m glad you wore the dress,” he said, leaning in to brush a quick kiss across her cheek. Of course, he’d seen her at the wedding just that morning. At the time it had been all he could do not to pull her fully into his arms and stake his claim on her where everyone could see. But he was trying to respect her wishes to keep things quiet.

Besides, stirring up gossip wasn’t the best idea at someone else’s wedding, when everyone was supposed to be focusing on the bride. The ceremony had been simple, yet lovely, as elegant as the bride herself. Ana had cried openly during the ceremony and the small reception that followed. Though he’d been curious about her parents, who’d also attended, he’d stayed firmly on the groom’s side of the celebration, well away from temptation.
Even now, he had to force himself to put some distance between them.

Her frown deepened for an instant. “How did you even know about the dress?”

“I asked CeCe.”

“This wasn’t a Hudson Pictures movie. I’ve never worked for them.”

“True, but CeCe grew up in Hollywood. She knows everyone. She told me this was the most gorgeous dress she’d ever seen. She said this was the dress you’d want to wear at least once, even if you’d worked your fingers to bloody nubs sewing it.”

“Well, at least she has excellent taste.” Ana smiled a bit reluctantly. “And I’m glad you followed my advice and didn’t rent a limo.”

He guided her down toward his Lexus. “It’s an hour and half drive into Beverly Hills. If we were alone in the back of a limo, I couldn’t promise to keep my hands to myself.”

Ana didn’t know what she expected from the Hudsons’ bash. Obscene displays of wealth. Check. Obnoxious paparazzi. Check—though they were barred at the door. A dazzling array of stars. Check.

What she had not expected was to be blindly welcomed into their midst. As a costume designer, she’d mostly lingered on the fringes of Hollywood society. Tonight she was escorted into its upper echelons.

The Hudsons’ annual bash was held at Hudson Manor, a sprawling Elizabethan mansion that ate up acres and acres of prime Beverly Hills real estate. The entire first floor of the manor had been lavishly decorated in red hearts and pink ribbons. The kitschy decorations contrasted sharply with the elegant surroundings.

Ward fit right in among all the stars and seemed to know nearly everyone. She did her part to talk up Hannah’s Hope to anyone who displayed even the tiniest smidge of interest and she had several people who seemed genuinely intrigued. She found she was better at the schmoozing than she thought she’d be.

But she was nowhere near as good at it as Ward was. Listening to him talk up Hannah’s Hope was almost as impressive as watching him play on stage. He was a genius. And his passionate enthusiasm for Hannah’s Hope only made her feel more vulnerable. Why couldn’t Ward be shallow and self-serving?

Ana excused herself to find the bathroom while Ward was chatting with the star of a late-night show. As she left the bathroom, she ran into CeCe Hudson. Ana was surprised that the other woman even remembered her. Yes, they’d met only about an hour before, but surely she was just a face in the crowd of hundreds.

“How are you enjoying the party?” the petite brunette asked.

“It’s wonderful,” Ana enthused.

CeCe chuckled. “Liar. You’re miserable.”

“I—” Ana stammered.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” CeCe linked her arm through Ana’s and started to guide her toward the buffet. “I used to hate these kinds of things, too. But it goes with the territory, right? You date someone rich and powerful, you end up hanging out with the shallow and the vain.”

“I—” Ana fumbled for a response. Finally, she settled on, “Ward and I aren’t dating.”

CeCe slanted an assessing look at Ana. “Really?” She didn’t sound in the least bit convinced.

“Really. I’m only here to promote Hannah’s Hope.”

CeCe arched an eyebrow. “Naturally. Jack mentioned the benefit you’re thinking of throwing. Great idea, by the way.” They’d reached the buffet table and CeCe picked up a plate and pushed it into Ana’s hands. “Be sure to let me know if Hudson Pictures can do anything.”

“Thank you. That’s very generous.”

“Ward’s a good guy. It’s the least we can do for the woman he’s not dating.”

“We’re really not—”

But CeCe cut her off. “Hey, I’m all in favor of keeping things out of the press. Reporters can muck up anything, can’t they?”

“That’s certainly true,” Ana agreed. The press had a way of sticking their collective noses in at precisely the wrong time.

On the way into the party, they’d badgered Ward about whether or not he was returning to a musical career. They’d asked about the studio work he’d been doing and every time he’d tried to steer the conversation back to an up-and-coming musician whose album Ward was producing, they’d changed the subject. Nor did they let him talk much about Hannah’s Hope. Apparently, the media heard only what they wanted to hear.

The reporters’ persistence didn’t seem to bother Ward at all. He seemed oblivious to how invasive their questions were. Throughout the ordeal, he was as charming and relaxed as he was…well, at a party.

Almost as if she could read her thoughts, CeCe gave a little cringe. “Sorry about all the reporters outside the party. It used to be the Hudsons never allowed that. But now that we’re raising money for breast cancer research, we figure any press for the cause is a good thing. Besides, some people give more generously when it’s going to be on
Entertainment Tonight.
”

Ana and CeCe chatted for several minutes as they worked their way through the buffet line. Ana felt marginally more comfortable, but eventually, CeCe’s hostessing duties took her away and Ana was left on her own again.

She made her way back to Ward. Unfortunately, when she rounded the corner, she saw him talking to the one person she least expected. Ridley Sinclair. The supposed happily married star who had hit on her and then made her work life miserable.

Ridley Sinclair was a first-rate jerk. Her last job had been one misery after another because he was always on set. After all, his wife had been the star of the movie.

Ana never wanted to see him again. Yet, here they were. At the same party. And he was talking to Ward. And here she was, in the dress that had been made for his wife.

Annoyed, she ducked aside, standing on the outskirts of a nearby cluster of people, hoping to wait out the conversation before returning to Ward’s side. She didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but she could still hear their conversation.

“Hey, I noticed you were here with that costume designer,” Ridley slurred.

Ana gave a sidewise glance. Ward and Ridley were standing with their backs to her. They’d have to turn completely around to see her. She nearly left, but wanted to be nearby so she could sneak back to Ward’s side as soon as Ridley left.

Ridley held a drink in his hand, gesturing broadly and splashing the amber liquid. She wasn’t surprised that he was already drunk so early in the evening. What a jerk. How had she ever imagined Ward might be even remotely similar to him?

“What’s her name? Amanda something, right?” Ridley was asking.

“Ana,” Ward answered, his voice tight.

Ridley seemed not to hear the note of warning in Ward’s voice, because he kept talking. “Yeah. Ana. She worked on my last movie.”

The guy had maybe ten lines. He’d been cast only because his wife wanted him in it. And suddenly it was
his
movie. Ana smirked to herself. Thank God she didn’t have to deal with him anymore.

She should have walked away then. And nearly did. Ward could obviously fend for himself.

But then Ridley was saying, “Man, she is one tight little piece of—”

She was about one syllable away from socking the guy in the jaw herself, when Ward interrupted him.

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Ward said smoothly. His voice was calm. Completely rational. Containing none of the blustering indignation her own set-down would have.

She stilled, listening intently, but trying to hide it behind sipping her drink.

“What?” Ridley asked stupidly.

“I suggest,” Ward said politely, “that you speak about Ms. Rodriguez with more respect.”

“Or what?” Ridley scoffed.

“I have a lot of friends in Hollywood, Mr. Sinclair. Probably
more than you do. Despite your wife’s success. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Ward left Ridley standing alone. The idiot seemed to have barely realized he’d just been threatened.

Ana slipped quietly away, all too aware of what had just happened. Ward had come to her defense. She hadn’t needed him to. If Ridley Sinclair had had the balls to say those things to her face, she would have socked him in the jaw. But he hadn’t. He’d said them to Ward. And Ward had stepped up to defend her. He’d calmly and effectively threatened the man’s career. For her.

She’d never wanted anyone to rush to her rescue. Had never needed that before. Somehow Ward’s behavior completely disarmed her. She dashed back down the hall leading to the bathroom. Finding herself suddenly alone, she leaned against the wall and pressed a hand to her stomach.

She hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid Valentine’s Day ball in the first place. She hadn’t wanted the dress. She hadn’t wanted the romance. And the last thing she needed was some romantic hero to sweep her off her feet.

No, her feet needed to stay firmly planted on the ground. If she stayed here at this party. Wearing this dress. With Ward here to gallantly come to her rescue. He wasn’t even going to have to sweep her off her feet. She was very much afraid her feet were going to float right off the ground.

After ditching Ridley Sinclair, Ward searched for Ana for several minutes before stumbling upon Jack, who he’d been hoping to find alone for most of the evening. Ward pulled him aside. After talking for a while, he quietly slipped an envelope into Jack’s hand, glad there was no one around to see the exchange. He’d made the check out directly to Jack, with the understanding that his friend would quietly shuffle the funds over to the charity. Every year he made a donation and every year Jack argued with him about it. But this was the first year he’d been able to do it in person.

Jack accepted the check without looking at it. “Are you sure you don’t want a receipt for your tax records?”

“If I wanted a receipt, then it would no longer be an anonymous donation, now, would it?”

“Good point.” Jack tucked the envelope into the interior pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “And since you seem determined that people not find out that you donate money to a good cause, who am I to dissuade you?”

They both knew the real reason Ward wanted the donation to be anonymous. Cara had been obsessed with distancing herself from any of the cancer charities. She’d been terrified of having her life’s work overshadowed by her death and had made Ward promise not to besmirch her legacy. He honored her memory by never letting the media know when he donated to the causes she’d so stubbornly ignored.

Before Jack could press the issue, CeCe walked up. Jack instantly pulled CeCe to his side. CeCe slipped her hand onto Jack’s chest with an easy familiarity that made something ache deep inside of Ward. He remembered, just barely, what it had been like to be as relaxed with another person. As comfortable.

But it had been a long time since he’d felt that. And even then, it had been more illusion than reality.

To distract Jack from the issue of the check—or perhaps to distract himself—Ward asked, “So where’d you ditch my date?”

“Ana?” CeCe asked with a frown. “Actually, she’s why I came over. She and I talked for a while, but as soon as I left her alone for a minute, I saw her heading for the door. Racing, practically. I think she must have seen someone she didn’t like.”

Ward smothered a curse of frustration and immediately excused himself. He hoped to catch up with Ana, but by the time he made it out to the valet stand, she was already gone. The attendant told him that a cab had dropped someone off just as she was rushing out.

Ward sent the man off in search of the Lexus and stood there alone, fuming. He’d left her alone for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. And she’d ditched him.

Ana balked when she heard how much a cab ride from L.A. to Vista del Mar would cost this time of night. She might have been better off renting a car, if any car rental places had been open. She briefly considered getting a hotel room, but just now, she longed for the simple familiarity of home even if it was a house she hadn’t lived in long. With the taxi and the rental out of the question, she fell back on the reliable transportation of her youth. Public transportation.

Of course, taking the bus in a thousand-dollar evening gown was like begging to be mugged. So she had the cab drop her at a twenty-four-hour discount store, where she bought the cheapest sweater and pair of jeans she could find and a roomy bag in which she could carry the dress, neatly rolled up. She changed in the bathroom and used a damp paper towel to wipe off most of her makeup. Then she caught the bus to Union Station. Thank God for the ten-thirty train to San Diego. From there it was just a short bus ride back up to Vista del Mar. Still, it was after one by the time the taxi dropped her off in front of her house.

Climbing out of the cab, she stilled as she saw Ward’s Lexus parked in front of her house. The fact that it was empty offered her no comfort. Especially not when a glance at the front door revealed him waiting for her there.

She fed the cabbie the fee.

He followed her gaze to her doorstep. “Hey, you okay? You know him?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I do.”

The cabbie frowned. “You want me to drop you somewhere else? I won’t charge you any extra.”

She smiled, trying to look reassuring, but pretty sure her smile looked sad instead. “No. He’d never hurt me.” Not physically, anyway. Emotionally, that was a whole ’nother ball of wax. “I just didn’t want to face him tonight, that’s all.”