Take Two (25 page)

Except, it was the miles and time apart that destroyed all the couples he’d known in Hollywood. Jealousy crept in. The press took advantage. Too much distance, too many rumors, too impossible to manage. It always ended in heartache.

There had to be some way to sort it out. Some way to be able to choose Maddie and his career. He closed his eyes and tried to come up with a solution to bridge the two.

But with his eyes closed, he only saw Maddie.

And when he opened his eyes and saw Joss Beaumont onstage and clips from his movies playing on the projector behind him, all he thought about was how much he loved making good movies.

He had to get out of there.

Without telling anyone where he was going, he wandered out to the balcony lobby in search of a drink, but found the bar had been left unattended. He contemplated reaching over the counter and making his own drink—what would they do to him? He was Micah Preston, one of the stars of the evening. They should be falling at his feet to please him.

Those were bitter self-absorbed thoughts and he knew it.

Instead, he leaned against the counter and scanned the lobby.

Then he saw her. Maddie. She sat alone on a bench at the other end of the lobby, and even at that distance, he knew she was crying. Her body shuddered with each wave of sobs.

For half a second he wondered why she was so upset, wanted to run to her and fix it. Then he realized with certainty that it was him.

Fuck. It broke him to see her like that. What was it that had pushed her to this place? The idea of being separated from him? Or was she finally understanding the impossibility of their relationship?

Or had it been his mother’s callous behavior? Because that was what had hurt Micah the most.

If he had to make a guess, he’d say it was Lulu’s comments that had probably stung Maddie most as well. He’d seen how Maddie had wanted to connect with Lulu. Funny how he’d wanted that too.

He wanted to make it better, but he felt helpless. He didn’t have an answer to their situation, didn’t have words to take their pain away. Besides, if he went to her now, and she cried like that in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to hang on. He’d give everything up for her right on the spot. And that wasn’t the answer.

He had to reach out, though, had to tell her not to give up on them. He sent her a text.
Counting the seconds til I have you in my arms.

It was several minutes before she dug in her purse, seemingly looking for a tissue, and opened her phone. He watched her read his message, a small smile crossing her lips, then she typed her reply.

You shouldn’t text in the theater. It’s rude.

Ah, sweet Maddie. Crying her eyes out in the lobby and she wasn’t letting on at all. He hated that he was glad. Wished she could be honest with him. Wished he wanted her to be honest with him. Wished he wanted to be honest with her.

He sent her a text that matched the tone of hers.
Neither should you.

I’m not in the theater.

Neither am I.
He hoped she’d look for him now.

She did.

She stood and crossed to the railing to look down on the lobby below her. Then she peered across the lobby on their level and their eyes met. His heart skipped a beat. She was so beautiful. Even tear stained and mascara streaked she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

He took a deep breath and walked to her.

“Congratulations on the Santini film,” she said as he neared her.

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t accepted yet.”

“You will.”

This was good. She’d opened the door for him to agree. He could just say it and that would be that. They could skip the more serious aspects of his conversation with Stu and his mother. He could take the out she was giving him so freely. It would be so easy…

She leaned on the railing next to him, close enough for him to touch her, and he did, reaching a finger under her eye to wipe at her mussed makeup. “What if I don’t want it?”

He met her eyes, tumbling into them as he always did when she gazed at him so trusting and soul-piercing. “You do.”

Ah, she knew he wanted that role. Of course she knew. She saw him. Always. “I do.”

Her breath hitched as he put a hand around her waist and swiftly pulled her to him. “I want you too,” he whispered, his nose circling hers.

“I know.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

He cupped her face and kissed her lips, sweetly and softly. She tasted of tears and makeup and something else—sorrow or heartache, maybe. He didn’t want to taste that on her mouth, wanted to take her away from all his bullshit. Wanted to escape with her. “Let’s get out of here?”

“You can’t abandon your mother, silly.” She smoothed his black silk tie, and he wished she was removing it instead.

“Then let’s find some place more private.”

She glanced around, and he followed her gaze. There was an usher behind them and a woman leaving the restroom.

“There’s too many eyes here.”

Yes, too many eyes. Eyes that could make their moment a scandal in a minute. They shouldn’t even be holding each other like this in public, not if he wanted to protect her from that. Still he couldn’t let her go.

After they’d held each other for much too long, she pulled away. “You should get back. You’ll be missed.”

In her words, he felt the chains that bound him, the constant monitor of the public that he wore like shackles. “Yes.”

She stepped to leave him, but her hand lingered in his, and he pulled her back to him, not wanting to let go. Ever. “Maddie, I—”

She searched his face and he almost finished his sentence, told her how he felt about her. But saying those words, there would be no going back from that. That would be his decision and he just…couldn’t.

“Kiss me again,” he said instead.

She delivered a light kiss. But he seized her lips with his own, his tongue possessing her with demanding need, claiming not only her mouth but her soul. With his kiss, he marked her as his, reserved her for a future that he wasn’t able to give her. Yet.

When he could bear to break free, he leaned his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling in her rhythm. “Maddie, I’m glad you’re here.”

Lame. He had given her nothing tangible, nothing that told her how he felt, no hint that he was confused about her—that he wanted what they had to become something more. The only words he had for her were,
“I’m glad you’re here.”

Totally lame.

He vowed he’d give her a clue. And while he sat in his box seat, pretending to watch the rest of Beaumont’s interview, he made his plans.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Maddie twisted in her seat belt so she could lean against the backrest and watch Micah as he maneuvered the rental car. She had never seen him drive. Even on the rare occasions that they shared a call time, she always rode up with the crew or Fudge, maintaining the secrecy of their affair.

He enjoyed driving. She could tell. His body relaxed behind the wheel and he wore a silly boyish expression on his face as he jammed to the music coming from his iPod over the car’s speakers. She liked seeing him this way.

She liked seeing him period.

She smiled, recalling a conversation from a few nights before. They had gone for drinks and pool with the crew, and afterward as they walked down the hall of his hotel, buzzed from beer and the company of friends, Micah had taken her hand and said, “Is this what normal people do? Come home every night and be happy?”

And for a minute she believed that they could be normal people.

But that was before the Joss Beaumont evening. Before the conversation she’d overheard between Stu, Lulu and Micah. She’d been so thrilled for Micah the minute she heard he’d been offered such a coveted role as the lead in a Santini film. Then, when Stu said that Micah would have to be in New Zealand for the better part of a year, she felt crushed. Absolutely and completely crushed.

How had she let herself forget that was how the business worked? Films took actors and crew all over the world—to different parts of the world. They’d be separated. Of course they would be.

And then Lulu had encouraged Micah to take the part, as she should, and Maddie agreed with his mother’s stance. But the exchange still hurt. A lot. Especially when Micah was unwilling to tell his mother that his hesitations revolved around the way he felt for Maddie. If he couldn’t tell Lulu, if he couldn’t admit it even to himself, how could they have any hope of making a real go of it? If they had any chance of surviving long periods of time apart, they’d have to be strong enough to declare their feelings openly. At the very least, declare them to each other.

Micah glanced at her from the driver’s seat, interrupting her thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“Your sad choice of music,” she answered, steering clear of the topic they’d avoided the three days since the Joss Beaumont night. Not that they’d ever talked about a future, but now their avoidance of it was heavy and glaring at the periphery of every moment together.

He grinned. “Hard rock’s no good?”

“No good at all. In fact, it’s seriously making me reconsider our relationship.” Inwardly she cringed at the word relationship, hoping it didn’t sound like she was putting pressure on Micah to discuss their situation. With less than one week left of production, though, she should be putting pressure on him. Eventually they would have to talk about it. She knew she should bring it up, but every time she had the chance, she pushed it off, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Fine,” Micah said, turning off the music. “Let’s talk instead.”

“Okay.”
Now. Talk about it now.
“What do you want to talk about?” God, she was a chicken.

“I don’t know. Uh, how’s your movie going?”

Maddie frowned. That was an odd question. He was with her every time she worked on it, and he usually watched and gave her feedback whenever she completed a section. He’d viewed everything she had done so far with his mother two days before. Maddie had backed out of their breakfast date at the last minute. She didn’t think she could spend another occasion pretending she wasn’t head over heels for Micah, especially not one so intimate.

“I haven’t done anything since the last time you saw it. Why?”

“I just love the theme of the movie. And so did Lulu, I know I told you that already. Freedom through flying. It’s really good.”

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. He had told her Lulu’d been very impressed, and Maddie had been proud of herself for it. But every time she thought of Lulu and her movie in the same sentence, she recalled Lulu’s comparison of Maddie to Micah’s ex. And she couldn’t bear that anyone might think she was using Micah for his film connections.

But all of those thoughts were miles off from whatever Micah was talking about now. She just couldn’t quite follow his direction yet.

“And how about heights? Do you have a fear of heights?”

“No,” she answered tentatively. “Do you?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you being so weird?”

“Weird? I’m not being weird. I just realized I didn’t know if you were afraid of heights or not. You know. Standard get-to-know-you question. I really should have already known this.”

“Uh-huh.” Maddie didn’t believe him. He was up to something.

“Do you have anything you’d like to know about me?”

She’d learned a lot about Micah in the last few weeks—things she never gleaned about him from the countless interviews she’d watched and read over the years—but she knew there was still more to discover. Everything. She wanted to know everything about him.

Like, for example, what would happen with them after the shoot ended on Friday? And where the heck was he taking her?

But she didn’t ask those questions. He’d told her that today was a surprise, had woken her at four in the morning on their day off, and told her to dress warm. He refused to say anything about it. After twenty minutes of probing, she’d dropped it.

Maybe that was why she couldn’t bring herself to steer the conversation to their relationship—she didn’t want to ruin his carefully planned surprise.

“Let’s see.” She searched for a safe but meaningful query. “Oh, I know. Did you always want to be an actor?”

“Seriously?” He turned off the main road they’d been following onto a smaller windy road. “That’s what you want to know? You can find that out from a good Google search.”

“In every interviews I’ve read you’ve said ‘yes’.”

“There you go,” he said, throwing his arm out dramatically.

“But I’ve always sensed you were hiding something.”

He peered at her. “How do you do that? How do you know me so well?”

Because we’re meant to be together.
She shrugged.

“No. I didn’t always want to be an actor.” He looked at her as if gauging her reaction. “My mom was an actress so she got me acting in commercials when I was about thirteen. And I hated it. We didn’t live in the film industry part of the city and no one in my school was into anything artsy. Kids picked on me, called me a fag, beat me up on a regular basis. In fact, that’s how I met Fudge. He stepped up for me and has been protecting me ever since.”