Souvenirs (24 page)

Grace nodded. “I do, but barely. You look much different without jet lag.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to finally meet you. Ben’s talked about nothing else.”

“Wanker,” Ben growled, but it was thwarted by Noah’s laughter. Chuckling in spite of himself, Ben pulled Grace away from Fiona. “Don’t listen to them, doll. Not a word of it is true.”

“Well, damn.” She looked up at him, a twinkle in her eye. “You sure know the way to a girl’s ego.”

“No you don’t,” he scolded. “You can’t take their side. I’ll never win with those odds. At least I can introduce one new person.”

Ben beckoned to his new P.A. “This is Emily Saunders. She was Archie’s assistant until we lured her to a life of crime. She nicked my audition package for Fiona.”

Grace clasped the girl’s hand. “Thank you for your help. We’d still be looking for Ian if Ben hadn’t arrived.”

“And I’d be miserable,” he whispered as he rested his forehead on her hair. Grace leaned into him.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Noah grumbled. “Fe’s a mess.”

Ben opened his arms for his teary savior as he teased, “I have the most daft, soft-hearted agent in the business.”

Bypassing him, she wrapped Grace in a hug. “I was so afraid I’d bodged it, and you’d never be able to forgive him. I never would have done it if I’d known.”

“I’m glad you didn’t know, then,” Grace said. “We needed a kick in the ass.”

The phone rang, and Emily left the circle to answer it.

“Fe, it’s Simon’s people.”

The younger woman made a bitter face when she sneered the last word. Fe had made a great hiring decision there.

“They’ve been calling every day,” Fiona said as she winked at Grace. “You’ll have to tell Rick not all Brits are whinging arses. Duty calls.”

Ben took Grace’s hand. “Let’s show you around.”

Fe had made her office next to Noah’s, and her pictures were still on the floor, balanced against the wall, her bookshelves in crates. She’d spun her chair, putting her back to the door while she negotiated. “No. I won’t agree to those terms . . .”

They whisked on to Noah’s office with its rows of file cabinets on one side, shelves on the other, and dove gray walls bisected by wainscoting. His folders were perfectly squared in an upright rack, and his spotless desk sat on a Persian island exactly equidistant from every corner. The only concession he’d made to Ben were comfortable side chairs. Noah looked up from his computer. “When can you talk about everything?”

“In a tick,” Ben promised as he moved on.

His office was the antithesis of his partner’s. The walls were navy blue, and the high ceilings kept the room from closing in on him. An extra-long chaise lounge sat in the window, angled toward the fireplace, and the knitted throw was piled at the end where he’d kicked it the day before he’d left for filming. The book he’d been reading still rested on the arm. His desk, his only concession to Noah, sat in front of shelves filled with a jumble of files, books, and photos, but everything was in arm’s reach. Reports were piled in his inbox.

“In the mornings, the light is amazing,” he said as he perched on the lounge. Grace wandered the room, reading the titles of his books, staring at photos, trailing her fingers along his dusty desk, lifting the glass globe paperweight he used as a fetish when he was thinking.

His pulse throbbed in anticipation. When she reached him, he wanted to tumble her to the chaise. Instead, he stood and led her through the French doors to his right and into the room beyond. This had seemed like such a good idea a few days ago. Now he was terrified.

It was small space, but Fiona had painted the walls a wheat color to reflect the light from the tall, narrow windows, which were open to combat any lingering fumes. A drafting table sat in front of them, and a soft chair waited in the corner. Narrow folding tables lined the walls.

“I’m hoping you’ll make this your office,” he whispered as he pressed the keys into Grace’s hand.

Teary, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Purely selfish on my part,” he murmured, pulling her close. Her hair tickled his nose as he burrowed his fingers into her sweater.

“Well, that’s that,” Fe sang out as she came into the room. “Oops, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Grace squeaked as she stepped away. “What’s what?”

“Snidely’s show, two weeks from tomorrow. Live.” Fiona grinned. “He snatched at the offer. He’s hoping to make you look bad.”

Ben nodded, remembering his outburst this morning. Live television was risky, but Simon couldn’t edit the footage before broadcast, which he’d been accused of doing in the past.

“The offer of an exclusive film clip did it,” Fe explained. “It was a brilliant idea, Grace.”

“What are we taking?” Ben asked.

“Ted’s choosing it,” Grace said as she looked around her office. “Fiona, did you do this?”

“To Ben’s explicit instructions, but I owed you after you helped him shop for my bracelet in Venice.”

Noah stuck his head around the door. “Now, Ben? I want to catch you before you get derailed entirely.”

“Bollocks,” Fe exclaimed. “Nobby, I almost forgot. You have a meeting with Clive the day before Snidely. I made it as late as I could, but you won’t get much of a lie-in.”

“How’d y’ blag that, muppet?”

“I rang him and reminded him I’d not seen him in donkey’s years and he owed me for introducing him to Ruth and couldn’t you just nip in and chat. It’d be a doddle. And bob’s-your-uncle, you’ve got a meeting. And remember this when I knock you up at nine on a Saturday. No whinging and grizzling about.”

“Huh?” Grace asked.

Ben was thrilled to once again be her interpreter. “She called Clive, the casting director on the spy film, and bluffed him into a short, easy meeting. She’ll pick me up at nine and I’m not allowed to whine and grumble.”

Following the translation, he grizzled anyway. “The weekend, Fe? I’ll be knackered, and I was hoping Grace and I could—”

Grace interrupted him. “You have to work when you can. I’ll be around when you’re finished. Speaking of, I think Noah’s waited long enough.” She shooed him away. “Go.”

He walked through his office, collected his files and his glasses, and kept going until he reached a chair in front of Noah’s desk. “Right, then. Before I forget, thanks for taking care of Mum’s house. It looks smashing.”

“Ta. Nice to have you back.” Noah looked up from his computer and whispered, “And Grace?”

“Absolutely terrifying,” Ben replied.

“I like her already. Is she staying?”

“Not sure. Hope so.” Ben opened the first file. “What do we have?”

He and Noah worked through every investment, reviewed legal documents, and considered new properties. It was a routine they’d established over years of talking long-distance, reviewing emails, and meeting between film schedules. At the end of it, Noah turned to new business.

“I looked over the prospectus from Morris Wright, and we’ve had a conference call. I like him, so let’s try a few pounds and see how it does. We can move more later. Yeah?”

“Good. Did you get the email I sent from Harry Levy?”

“About the tech company? Are you sure you want to do this?” Noah glanced over the top of his computer.

“It’s a way to make gaming more creative. To open it up and make it easier to make and play something unique, and it could cross to medical and construction platforms.” Ben sighed as he walked to the window. “I think, anyway. But we need a hedge against the real estate bubble. Which was supposed to be a hedge against the acting bubble.”

“You worry too much,” Noah scolded.

“Grace says the same thing.”

“Then I really like her. I’ll run the tech thing by a wizard I know. Right now, go home. You’re both knackered.”

“Ta, mate.”

He bolted around the corner, anxious to get back to Grace. Without work to do, she was probably bored already. Crossing his threshold, he stopped and stared at her, asleep on his chaise. She’d draped the throw across her legs and started reading his book, only to have it fall to her lap. Afternoon light gilded her hair. She looked like a porcelain doll.

He knelt next to her and took in everything from the sweep of her thick lashes, down her turned up nose, to the dainty bow of her lips. From there it was her rounded breasts, her delicate fingers, and the curve of her hips. A very sexy porcelain doll.

He closed his hand around her shoulder. “Idgie?”

Her lashes fluttered open as a smile curved her lips. “Hi.”

Ben’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as his lungs tightened. “Ready to go? I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

“I thought we could do dinner with Fe and Noah.”

“It’d be rude if we both slept through it,” he teased as he helped her stand. “We’ll get a cab.”

“It was a nap, not a concussion,” she groused.

They walked the few blocks to the hotel, and he cuddled her against him in the elevator. She was warm and soft, and she hid her yawn in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

He stroked her hair. “I’m on L.A. time, too. It’ll be easier tomorrow.”

“Wanna sleep here?”

“I do,” he confessed. “But I’m sure there’s someone on the street timing me to see how long I stay out of sight. I’d rather not have you in the gossip column again.”

“You don’t want to do the walk of shame.”

“There’s that, too.” They stopped at her door. “Fe showed you which key did what, right? And how to operate the alarm system?”

“Yes.” She pulled them from her purse. “And we put the office address in my phone so I can use the GPS if I get lost. But there are extra keys. What are those for?”

He pointed to each in turn. “My home and my car.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

Ben kissed her as quickly as he could manage, ignoring the demands of his brain and his body. “Although I’d prefer you not drive until you’re used to being on the correct side of the road.”

Her laughter was the best aphrodisiac he could imagine. “Am I supposed to wander London trying the key in random locks?”

“I’ll take you there tomorrow.” He kissed her again. “Goodnight, doll. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” she yawned as she closed the door.

Ben left through the hotel’s front entrance, hiding only by tucking his chin to his chest. Long-legged strides had him home in no time, and he was in bed within the half hour.

He woke to someone ringing his doorbell. It was dark, and the clock showed twelve. Midnight. No wonder his limbs felt weighted.

“Bugger off,” he growled.

The ringing grew to an insistent refrain, and he stomped through the house.

“What the bloody hell? Do you have any fucking idea what time it is?”

He jerked the door open.

“Yes, darling. I know exactly what time it is. Welcome home.”

Ben avoided her kiss. She smelled like scotch and stale cigarettes. “Hullo, Hill.”

She waltzed in and tottered toward his room before he could stop her.

“I’m a bit pissed, so I thought I could sleep here and go home in the morning.”

“No.”

“Ben,” she whined. “Friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”

He guided her through the door to the sidewalk. The cold air hit his bare arms and the paving stones chilled his toes. He hailed a cab. “You’re not driving.”

Chapter 21

Threesome?

Grace stared at the bleating headline, snarling over the rim of her coffee cup.

It was trash.

She dropped the newspaper on the edge of her drafting table and climbed onto her stool, hooking her feet under the top rung. She had edits to do today and anthology submissions to read, not to mention location scouting. One of their final sites had become unsuitable due to a water leak, and their back-up was being fumigated. They needed to find an alternate and an emergency, last-ditch alternate.

The paper slid down the desk, bumping her elbow and revealing grainy pictures that were worse than the block print. She and Ben in sunglasses, hand-in-hand but grim and silent. Ben leaving the hotel, still unsmiling. And Ben with bed head and bare feet, in his pajamas, with Hillary on his arm while standing in front of his home.

At least she assumed it was his home. She’d never seen it.
She
was staying in a hotel, where he’d dropped her early while claiming exhaustion.

Had he?

She folded the paper into neat thirds, inside-out to hide the headline, then creased the folds to make sure it stayed closed. Holding it at shoulder height, she dropped it into the trash can. The receptacle toppled over and rolled across the floor. The clatter and bang banished her doubts.

It
was
trash. And a lie. They’d both been exhausted.

She turned her back on the mess, shoved her earphones into place and went to work. The words and images filled her brain, crowding out any other thoughts and making her lose track of the time.

A cup of coffee appeared in her line of sight, tempting her from edits as much as the warm kiss on the back of her neck. She tugged the buds from her ears.

“You should lower the volume before you damage your hearing,” Ben whispered.

A bakery bag appeared opposite the coffee.

“You should start bringing me fruit.”

“You don’t make those wonderful little noises with fruit.” He twirled her chair. “All right?”

She nodded sharply and twined her arms around his neck. His kiss stole her breath as his tongue swept into her mouth and his sigh warmed her lips.

“I like having you here.”

“I like being here.” She released him in favor of breakfast, tearing the pastry and offering him half.

“Apparently. Ivy at the hotel said you left at dawn,” he mumbled, talking around the bite.

“Are you checking up on me?”

“I came to get you for breakfast,” he explained. “How long do you want to work this morning?”

Grace surveyed the pile of edits on her desk. “Another hour should do it. Maybe two.”

“Two,” he agreed as he stood. “We’ll leave in two hours.”

Since he was walking to his office, Grace turned back to her work.

“Where did you get this?” he snapped.

Raising her gaze, she saw him looming over the now righted trash can with
The Sun
in his hand.

“Someone put it on my threshold this morning.”

“I’ll talk to the hotel.”

“What are they supposed to do? Lock every door except the front one? Post guards? Nothing says
welcome, enjoy your stay
like a security patrol.”

“Hillary woke me from a very sound, very lonely sleep,” he explained as he tossed the paper back into the trash. “I put her in a taxi and sent her away.”

“Okay.”

He walked back to her. “Really?”

“I won’t lie. It bothered me at first. But you’ve always been upfront with me about her.” She put her hand on his forearm, feeling the tense muscles under his soft skin and coarse hair. “You gave me a key. That’s not a move made by someone who’s juggling women.”

Ben cradled her jaw in his hand, curving his fingers around her nape while his thumb brushed her cheek. “Thank you for trusting me.”

The kiss was overwhelming in its sweetness. Slow and seeking, his tongue traced her lips before sliding between them. As it retreated, his fingers flexed on her skin, keeping her still so he could kiss her again. And again. Every stroke built the heat between them.

Grace broke for air first. “We have to work, sweetheart.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured.

“Ben.”

Sighing, he stepped away. “I’ll be in my office.”

She smirked. “I’ll be in mine.”

Grace faced her desk, ignoring the open door between them. When Ben’s voice invaded the space, she restarted her play list and focused on the page in front of her. Then the next page.

One earbud slipped free, ruining the stereo sound. Grace reached for it as Ben’s warm hand curved around her waist.

“Why is this necessary?” His whisper overwhelmed the music in her other ear.

“If I can hear you, I can’t think,” she confessed. “It pulls my brain in a million different directions.”

“Yeah?” His smile tickled her skin.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Who, me?” His gentle laughter shook them both. “Time’s up, Idgie. Let’s get out of here.”

They left and strolled the sidewalks instead of charging through alleys. He held her hand and looked down at her. “If they’re going to print something, it should be the truth.”

Ben took his time and pointed out landmarks and favorite shops, though Grace did catch him looking over his shoulder for who might be behind them, or craning his neck to see what was ahead. They followed the Thames until he stopped in front of a small building, brick and stucco with arched doorways, peaked roofs, and bay windows, six units at the most. A low brick wall and iron gates separated the building from the sidewalk. She recognized it from the newspaper.

“Ben, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to bring you here, remember?” he asked as he held the gate open.

She stared at the building again, focusing on previously ignored details. Mosaics in the wall peeked from behind low mounding shrubs piled on top of lush grass. Window boxes were full of coreopsis, and their dark yellow flowers bobbed in the breeze. Relief carvings surrounded the window and doorframes. Each door was painted a lacquered red, which made them look like fingernails. And each had the same ornate hardware.

“You own this, don’t you?” She smiled when he nodded. “You have a definite type. Most guys like long-legged blondes. You like old architecture.”

“I do. And I like the control of knowing my neighbors.”

“And you have a second income in case acting stops.”

He nodded again. “Contrary to what people think, it didn’t happen overnight. My success arrived relatively late, and I remember when the roles weren’t coming. It’s a fickle business, and I’ve dragged Noah and Fe into it. One bad role and it all vanishes.”

His words sank in and the vise tightened around Grace’s lungs. New studio, untried screenwriter. What if this was his one bad role?

“Try your key,” he whispered.

The lock turned easily, and the heavy oak door swung open without a sound. Stepping inside, she wondered where to go next.

“The kitchen’s on this floor, at the back,” Ben said. “I’ll be there. Make yourself comfortable. Look anywhere you’d like.”

For a moment, Grace stood in the entryway. Dark walls were brightened by paintings and photographs. Landscapes hung next to sketches. Rugs covered the floor like carpets of wildflowers.

The bedrooms were on this floor. He’d outfitted the smaller one as his office, just like she’d done at home. The master space was brightened by large windows and warmed by a fireplace. The enormous bed and its leather headboard backed up to an exposed brick wall. She pictured him under the covers with his dark hair on the pillow. She imagined being in there with him.

Rather than fantasizing in his bedroom, she walked down the hall and joined him in the modern black, white, and stainless steel kitchen. He led her through the small back yard to the garage opposite. Inside was a Land Rover.

“Very country gentleman,” she teased.

“I can’t fit in anything else.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

He shook his head at her sarcasm, but his skin tinted pink. “Fine, yes. I own property in the country.”

“I hear the queen hands out knighthoods like Halloween candy.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“I’m
not
knighted.” He took her hand, and then elbowed her in the ribs. “Yet.”

They returned to the house, and carried their lunch upstairs. The den consisted of angled ceilings, skylights, and comfortable furniture in leather and upholstery. Books and photos crowded every shelf. It was informal and clean but chaotic. Ben started a play list and walked her through the French doors to the rooftop patio.

They spent all day alternately listening and talking. It was like vacation, but better. She didn’t have to consider every answer. He shared tales and details. Just like his home, nothing was off limits. Lunch faded into tea, and then to delivery pizza and cold beer. It was almost midnight when he put a book into her hands.

“I’ve finished this, and I’d like your opinion.”

The title wasn’t familiar.

“It’s a British novel,” he explained. “It’s unavailable in the States.”

“Will my uncultured American eyes fall out?” she teased.

Laughing, he pulled her into his arms and settled against the sofa’s armrest. “Do you realize this is the first day we’ve spent,
ever
, where we’re not on someone else’s schedule? We’re actually alone.”

She wriggled against him. “What do you want to do?”

“Shag until we’re weak from hunger,” he groaned even as he inched away from her. “But we have to be up early in the morning, and I need my wits about me.” He stood, pulling her with him. “I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

They strolled back, arm in arm.

“Maybe we could drive to locations on our own sometimes,” he offered.

“I’d like that. I might work in town some days.”

He nodded as he held the hotel’s door. “Just be careful, okay? Ring Fe if things get out of hand. She and Noah will take care of you if I’m not here.”

Once the elevator doors closed, she turned to him. “
If
I need them, I’ll call them. Fiona put her number in my phone yesterday.”

“It’s a strange city, a quite large one, and I’ll be hours away. Don’t be stubborn.”

“Who, me?” she batted her eyelashes.

They walked down the hallway, stopping at her door. His soft kiss was the most chaste they’d ever shared, until he raised his simmering gaze to hers. His tongue flicked across his bottom lip as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. Her skin heated and her blood rushed to her sex, settling there and leaving her yearning.

“We’ve finally had a first date,” he whispered. “Thank you, Grace.”

Walking in, she kept her gaze on his face as she closed the door between them. She didn’t move until she heard the elevator open on her floor.

The next morning, before dawn, Emily was waiting to drive her to the bus for their first day of location filming. Ben sat near the back, with his feet stretched into the aisle and his LARP cap over his eyes.

She stepped past him to the window seat and settled everything around her—iPod, tablet, notes, script, phone. When she was quiet, he stretched out his hand. She took it and kissed his cheek. The corner of his mouth twitched in a sexy smile as he rumbled his approval.

“Good morning, Nobby.”

He moved his cap and looked down his nose.

“Don’t look at me like that. But since you’re awake, may I ask you a favor?”

“Anything.”

She handed him the pages she’d printed early this morning while she’d haunted the hotel’s business center with a sweater pulled over her pajamas. “This is a new author I’m considering for the anthology. Will you read it and tell me what you think?”

He took the pages, plugged the splitter into her iPod, and set up his ear buds. As the bus lurched forward, Grace started their music and opened the book he’d given her.

After a long day on location, they climbed back into the bus and collapsed against each other in a heap. And the next morning, they did it all again.

On the fourth day, Grace stayed in London to work. She also slept late without feeling like a heathen. The phone rang when she was searching for her shoes. She’d only brought two pair, how had she lost one already?

“Hello?”

“Grace? It’s Fe. Can you be on the pavement in about five minutes?”

Pavement? “Huh?”

“Ben said you were staying in town today. We’re swinging by to pick you up for a trip to Harrods.”

Great. She could shop for a replacement pair of shoes. “I’ll be waiting.”

As she stood on the sidewalk—
er, pavement
—she grew excited about the chance to hang out with Fiona and see another side of London. Shopping wasn’t necessarily her thing, but something told her Fiona would be quick about it.

A horn honked, and a bright blue Mini Cooper zipped under the awning. Camille waved from the back seat.

Oh, shit
.

Grace slid into the passenger seat.

“Good morning, dear,” Camille said, smiling. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Good morning. Does Ben know we’re shopping?”

“What do you mean?” Fe asked as she glanced over, swerving as she merged into traffic. The driver behind them honked in irritation. Grace curled away from the window, trying to avoid oncoming traffic.
Left side, left side.
We’re
supposed
to be on the left side.