Star Struck (7 page)

“No, princess.” He found the strings of her bikini, pulled the suit up over her breasts and tied it around her neck. “I don’t like you. I’m disgusted with myself for being so stupidly attracted to you.”

His words hurt like a van smashing into her. But she understood far too well. “You can’t possibly be as disgusted as I am.”

He laughed. “I’m sure that’s true. Thank you for reminding me.” He shook his head and she could see in his eyes a self-loathing that mirrored what she felt inside. “I’ll go out first so you can pretend this whole mistake never happened.”

But as she watched him leave, she knew she couldn’t forget. Not just because he’d left her horny and yearning and blue-clitted, but because their interaction revealed so many things about herself she didn’t want to deal with.

She retrieved her cover-up from the floor and slipped it over her head, wishing the cotton material could cover up more than just her near-naked body. She wished it could cover up Seth’s bite marks and her flushed face and her trailer park past and her pathetic excuse for a soul that never let her move anywhere beyond white trash.

Chapter Five

The rest of the day flew by at breakneck speed. More rehearsing, tech rehearsal, and a quick dinner that she barely touched. Then it was show time. Though nervous, she adored the rush she got from performing live. As a film actress, she rarely got to experience those jitters that came from knowing her performance wouldn’t be edited or perfected in post-production. Whenever she did, she embraced it, cherished it. Even conflicting thoughts of the sexy carpenter somewhere out in the house watching the show weren’t enough to distract her from her high.

Heather’s play, third in the line-up, had a great placement. The audience was already warmed up and her bit as a dumb blonde trying to drill for oil in the sand at the beach brought roars of laughter. She almost wished the performance was taped so she could see it played back later. Except that was one of the great things about the 24-Hour Plays—they were one time, and one time only.

Normally she’d steal up to the balcony with the other actors when her piece was completed so she could watch the rest of the shows. But this year as the spokesperson, she also had to announce the Urban Arts Spotlight performer and give a speech after intermission highlighting the charity and its many accomplishments. In her speech, she also introduced the new element of the night—the set built by carpenter Seth Rafferty that would be auctioned off the following month. The audience clapped with approval.

Yeah, she’d been wrong about the set. It had definitely added to the plays and would benefit the Urban Arts program significantly. Not that she’d ever admit her change of heart to Seth.

She missed watching the final show from backstage so that she could take a quick shower and primp. She changed into a black and white striped maxi with a scoop neck and elastic criss-cross back. It fit the casual mood of the after party but didn’t skimp on the sexy.

Then the show was over and it felt like her work was just beginning. Immediately, she was ushered to the foyer by Patrick to be introduced to important donors. After posing for pictures and signing autographs, she was shuttled to the hotel where she had to endure an hour long press junket before finally making it into the cast party. She gave a final speech at the party to thank the cast and crew and her duties as spokesperson were officially over.

With a giant sigh, Heather collapsed on a couch next to Lexie by the pool and sipped at her Tequila Sunrise while trying to decide if she had enough energy to join her costars at karaoke in one of the poolside hotel rooms. The need to rest her aching feet outweighed her adrenaline pumped desire to sing old 80s hits, so she settled for just listening.

“You did good, chicka,” Lexie said, raising her glass in a toast. “I call the evening a success.”

“And your opinion’s the only one that matters.” Though that wasn’t true. Heather cared way too much about what other people thought of her. She’d tried to move past it and after years in the media spotlight she should have grown a thicker skin, but she was sensitive by nature. Always looking for the approval her father never gave her.

But yes, the event had gone well. She expected positive reviews in the papers the next day. The 24-Hour Plays were low-key, so the coverage would be minimal.

Heather scanned the pool area. She hadn’t seen Seth all evening—not that she’d been looking. Maybe he didn’t do parties. Or maybe he was avoiding her.

Or maybe she just hadn’t looked hard enough. Because there he was in the back corner with Neil, chatting around one of the appetizer buffets. Seeing him, she instantly felt bathed in a flash of warmth and the fire pit seemed to suddenly blaze hotter. He’d changed into clean jeans and an olive button down shirt that she knew would bring out the green specks of his eyes.

Why on earth was she thinking about his eyes?

“Who ya staring at?” Lexie followed Heather’s gaze. “Oh, yum! Who’s that?”

“The asshole I told you about.”

“The one who called you a bitch and built that amazing furniture that’s going to sell for thousands?”

“Yeah.” The thoughts she’d buried all evening flooded her now—she’d said she didn’t want him, but she did. Very much so. But the things he’d said, the horrible truths he’d revealed about her…

Seth Rafferty had done quite a number on her. He’d left her dazed and confused and horny as hell.

And ashamed. He’d left her that too.

Curling her feet underneath her, Lexie eyed Heather as though trying to read her mind.

“He kissed me,” Heather admitted as casually as she could.

Lexie’s jaw dropped. “And you’re just telling me this now?”

“A lot was going on.” Heather had wanted to tell her earlier, had needed a confidant. But also, she hadn’t wanted to say a thing. Her interactions with the man had been very personal.

“Nothing’s going on now. Spill it.”

“I slapped him.” She’d been proud of that actually. “But then I kissed him back.” More than kissed and more than once. Details.

“He’s certainly not a bad choice for rebound.”

“He’s a terrible choice. He’s…” A slew of adjectives describing Seth ran through Heather’s head, none as demeaning as she’d like. “I don’t even like him. He’s a total ass.”

“A total hot ass.”

Heather sighed. “Yes.”

Silence settled over them and, as the tequila made its way through Heather’s veins, she began to relax for the first time in two days.

After a while, Lexie sat forward and looked around. “The party seems to be winding down. I’m going to head out. Do you need anything before I go?”

“You got me all checked in?” Knowing how beat she’d be after the night was over, Heather had opted to rent a room in the hotel.

“Yes. Your luggage is in your room. Room 417.” Lexie dug into her purse and pulled out a hotel key that she handed to Heather. “Here’s your key card.”

“And I’m in the spa tomorrow?” Had her words sounded slurred? She probably should have eaten something.

“Yes, booked all day.” Lexie eyed her suspiciously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” She stretched. “I’m just really tired.”

“Then relax and enjoy tomorrow. I don’t want to hear from you until at least late afternoon.”

God, Lexie was an assistant sent from heaven. She pictured Lexie with angel wings and started to giggle.

“Maybe you should call it a night now. You’re starting to get loopy. You didn’t eat anything today, did you? Do you need me to help you to your room before I leave?”

“Nah, I got it.”

Lexie stood then leaned down to give her boss a hug. “Say your goodbyes and get to bed. And if you end up in bed with that carpenter…”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Stop it. I’m not going to bed with him.” But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she and Seth had unfinished business. Maybe she’d talk to him one more time. Make sure he’d gotten the drill she’d left on the counter in the loading dock. Maybe give him kudos for his set pieces. Maybe give him a piece of her mind.

Or a piece of her body.

But maybe first another drink.

Seth had managed to avoid Heather since their hot make-out session at lunch. It was obvious there wasn’t a worse match for him than the feisty blonde, but God, he hadn’t met a more responsive woman. The way her mouth had opened to him, the feel of her sexy legs wrapped around him and her gorgeous tits pressing against him. She was so damn hot.

He’d been so consumed with her, Seth had almost missed out on the satisfaction of a job well done. Almost, but not quite.

“The Urban Arts program is going to make out on that auction next month,” Neil said, handing Seth another beer. “The general feedback is very favorable. It was a great suggestion. Maybe we’ll even add it to the New York plays in November.”

“Thanks, man. I feel good about it.” He’d feel even better if he hadn’t nearly molested the spokeswoman for the event in the back of the theater earlier in the day. Twice. Actually, the thing he felt the worst about where Heather was concerned was not finishing what he’d started.

“You should feel good. You are totally invited back next year. If you don’t mind me asking, though, how come you didn’t want anyone to know you donated the materials?”

Seth hesitated. Neil was a good guy, real down-to-earth and a major supporter of bringing Seth’s set idea to life. He popped the top off his beer—his sixth in an hour. “Truthfully,” he said after taking a swallow, “I don’t really care who knows. As long as Heather Wainwright doesn’t know.”

“Heather?” Neil’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why… Actually, don’t answer. I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”

“Maybe I’m being a dick.” No maybe about it, he was being a giant dick. “But she’s stuck-up. And this whole project—the Urban Arts, the 24-Hour plays—is about helping the less fortunate. Not about alienating or demeaning people who are considered beneath you.” Though he wouldn’t mind being beneath Heather. In the physical sense, anyway.

“I get it.” Neil opened his mouth to say more and then stopped himself.

“Go ahead. Say whatever you want. I probably need to hear it.”

“It’s just that I’ve worked on the shows for as long as Heather. She can come off as a real snob. At heart, she’s not like that. She believes in the project and the work we do. I think there’s something personal about it for her.”

Seth rolled his bottle between his palms, wondering if he should slow down. “I suspect you’re right. But it’s personal for me too.” He used to deny and hide his past. Then he learned the hard way that he couldn’t run from who he was. That was when he realized that he wouldn’t be where he was today if it hadn’t been for where he came from. If Heather had a similar story, then she needed to embrace it as well.

Just his personal opinion.

“Speak of the devil,” Neil said, his eyes pinned to a spot behind Seth.

Seth turned to see what Neil was looking at. There was Heather, heading straight toward him, her sexy sway accentuated by her hip-clinging dress. If he wanted to continue to avoid her, he needed to go now.

Or he could just stay right where he was and see how things played out.

The latter option certainly seemed more fun. Okay, he’d definitely had more beers than he should have.

And the way Heather was weaving suggested she might have had a bit too much to drink herself.

He excused himself from Neil, who gave him a knowing grin and stepped out to meet her approach. A good idea, since, when she was only few feet away from him, she stumbled. Setting his beer bottle on the table next to him, he caught her at the elbows to steady her and tried not to notice how her soft skin pimpled into goose bumps under his fingers.

“Hey, you don’t need to catch me all the time.”

Her breath was a warm breeze on his face twisted with the fragrance of alcohol and orange juice. Yep, she’d definitely been indulging.

“Then quit falling all over me.” It took all his strength to not pull her closer to him. Even drunk, she was tempting and sexy as fuck.

“You wish.” She shrugged out of his grasp. God, if his hands didn’t feel empty without her in them. “I need to say something to you.”

Seth chuckled. “Of course you do.”

She placed her fists on her hips, attempting—he suspected—to look threatening. Instead she looked even more adorable. He wanted nothing more than to throw her across the buffet table and ravage her. Not stand and take whatever insult she planned on dishing out next and pretend that each curt word didn’t make his dick harder.

He retrieved his bottle from the table and prepared himself with a long swig.

“You are such an arrogant…Wow! Ipswich Ale. I’m impressed.”

“What? Did you expect me to be drinking something domestic like Coors or Bud? Because if that’s what the bar had, I’d be just as happy with one of those.”

She scowled. “No. Ipswich is just one of my favorite beers.” Her words slurred together. “God, do you really think I’m that shallow?”

Yes, he did.

Or maybe he didn’t. She certainly had a superiority complex, but she also had that vulnerability that kept appearing under her mask of self-confidence. He’d glimpsed it that first night he’d met her, then again when she’d asked for his drill. And every time he’d kissed her.