Taming Hollywood’s Ultimate Playboy (12 page)

“You pictured me a lot?”

“Every day.”

“Just dark times?”

“No, of course not. Good times too. When I had some time alone. Going to sleep. Running.”

“Was I the carrot?” she asked, leaning down to kiss him again, her fingers combing through his hair in a way that was both soothing and arousing at the same time. Increased pressure encouraged him to roll over, and she went with him.

“Sometimes,” he murmured.

“Sometimes it was some other woman in her underwear?”

“No,” he said, pushing her hair back from his face, the tenderness in his eyes making her inexplicably teary. “I don't think I've ever daydreamed about another woman like I do about you. But I don't always run happy. Sometimes...”

“Sometimes you run mad? Sad?”

“Yes. Though that doesn't always work out well. Running if you're too distracted can result in a sprained ankle.”

Sprained ankle? She probably shouldn't ask, but it was right after he and his girlfriend had split. “Because of Simone?”

“No. No, not Simone.” He slid a hand around the knee she had hooked over his hip and rolled to his back so that she was on top of him.

She sat up then, settling herself against him at the wrong end for penetration, but still in a place where she knew he'd enjoy a little friction.

“What were you upset about? The part?”

“No. Less talk. More... Where's the condom?”

“Not until you tell me what made you fall,” she said, flattening her hands against his chest and grinding her hips down just enough to slicken him.

His eyes got that unfocused look of pleasure and he grabbed her hips to keep her right there, even as he groaned his complaint. “Not fair.”

“I don't play fair.” She usually played fair, actually, but if it wasn't important, he wouldn't be trying to hide it. “No holding back. You agreed.”

He sighed then and stopped her hips. “It was the anniversary of my father's death. It's always a bad day.”

A bad day, he'd said. Like those words were powerful enough to carry all the meaning that went with them.

When she'd first met Liam she remembered thinking he was different, and the discussion she'd had with her parents about foster care, and why Liam was in foster care. Her parents had told her enough that she'd have been nice to him even if he hadn't been the most handsome boy she'd ever seen. But Liam wasn't much for sharing. He minimized things. And she was beginning to understand that the things he minimized most were the things that hurt the most.

“Did I kill the mood?”

Grace realized she'd been staring at him a long time and that she had tears in her eyes.

That no-holding-back rule... “Does that happen on your mother's anniversary too? Or were you too little when she died to really—?”

“I don't remember much about that.” He lifted that tattooed shoulder, minimizing further.

“But you do remember your father's death. Were you there?”

“No. I found him later.” His words were delivered so flatly and emotionlessly...

Her heart ached, her eyes burned, and she leaned forward to kiss him, unable to say anything.

Warmth slid up her body as his hands crept to her cheeks, and as he accepted and returned every wet kiss, his thumbs brushed away her tears.

When she'd kissed him enough to give him a glimpse of all the sorrow she felt on his behalf, she leaned up to look at him again. The tears still came, but his eyes were dry.

“Don't cry. I'm okay now. You got me better.”

“It's not that. It's not that you got distracted and fell. Can't I just be heartbroken for you? Because I am.”

“I'm not.”

Lies. Lies he might have even believed.

He reached to the side, grabbing one of the foil packets she'd put out and tearing it open as he sat up, pushing her up as he did so, freeing the erection once captured between them for the condom.

“Liam...”

“Do you still have those panties and that bra?”

“No.”

She knew what he was doing. He'd done what he'd promised, he hadn't held back, but now he was getting this fantasy-fulfilling evening back on course.

“I went home and burned them. They were all tainted with unrequited longing and...”

A little shifting and she felt herself stretching to accommodate the hardness pushing insistently into her.

“Do you have some other ones? I think... I deserve some black underwear to complete this memory.”

She wanted another night. Another ten thousand nights wouldn't be enough.

CHAPTER TEN

A
NYTHING
 
SHE
 
WANTED
. After their night, when they'd both been drunk on pleasure and each other, when the idea that everything would be okay somehow had dominated his mind, Liam had announced he'd give her whatever she wanted. Ask him anything, he'd say yes.

And he had. Even when she'd asked him to be her date to a wedding.

So dumb. All of that was going to make this harder.

Consequences.

Liam tossed his keys to the valet and went to offer Grace his elbow. The boot that made it easy to walk without support didn't go with his formal wear, so he was back to tape and a cane. Only today it didn't hurt much at all with the tape. Unlike before. A sign of progress: that he'd healed enough for tape to work. At least physically, though his heart and conscience were starting to feel battered from the effort.

He looked down at her smiling face and the pit of acid eating a hole through him widened, and he had to work to swallow it down. Whatever was between them was usually flirty and playful. Even when she'd been grumpy with him over his ankle, they'd still found their way back to that playful relationship.

And there was the problem word. They no longer had one fantastic night, they had a relationship.

This was a date.

A date to a wedding, of all things. Because Grace was made for the fairy tale.

He should have figured out some way out of that promise. But he'd considered it, and the fact that they'd be staying alone together in a hotel had overridden his sensibilities. One night had turned into one more night.

But he hated broken promises, with all the promises made and broken in his childhood, so making promises lightly should be the last thing he'd ever do.

And the Liam from Grace's bed—the one satisfied down to every last atom—would've kept that promise. So today, even though he'd had two days to come to the conclusion that this was a bad idea, he had to keep his promise to Grace. He just couldn't keep it well. The spirit of the promise was different from the tangible semantics of it.

Tonight had to end differently than she wanted. It had to end differently than even he wanted. Because what he wanted was the opposite from what was right. Tonight had to be a bad night. To help her see things clearly. To knock the stars from her eyes.

She gasped softly as they walked through the lit estate. Cool night breezes rolled off the ocean below and all the trees glittered with white lights.

“I guess this is what the wedding of the children of Hollywood royalty looks like,” Grace murmured, squeezing his arm. “Your ankle okay?”

“It's fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you're in pain.”

“I'm okay.”

“You're scowling,” she said, waving with her free hand to different people they passed.

Security took their names, and an usher came to escort them off to more white and gold, to rows of chairs in two blocks facing an astonishingly lit gazebo and a sea of puffy white flower balls that Liam couldn't identify.

“I'm...” He started to deny it, but then lowered his voice and his head to her so no one else would hear. “I'm not a fan of weddings.”

“But it looks like a fairy tale.”

Fairy tale.

Seated, Liam shifted around, trying to get comfortable. “Yes. It does.”

“You're not happy for Freya and Zack?”

“Don't know Zack, but sure. Freya's a good person.” Liam didn't know her well, but they'd spoken a few times at some event or another. It was impossible to move in the same circles for years and not interact on some level. He had gone to The Hollywood Hills Clinic because it was attached to the Rothsbergs, after all. “She's smart and she's worked for what she has. So, sure. This is what they want? I'm happy for them.”

* * *

Grace leaned back a touch, studying him. Since they'd been around one another for this second chance...or whatever it was...she'd watched him study people. Been told a few too many times what she was thinking because he studied her. And she'd picked up a thing or two.

He'd carefully positioned himself on the chair beside her so that they weren't touching. His arms were crossed as he waited and other guests were shown to seats around them, and he didn't even look at her when he spoke.

Liam didn't just not want to be there, he didn't want to be there with her.

Or was it a case of him not wanting to be there with her in front of people who moved in his circles? She only moved in adjacent circles that had some people who moved in his circles...

Her blue dress was nice but not designer. It fit her well, but wasn't couture. She hadn't gone to a stylist to have her hair and makeup done. She hadn't paid a week's salary for her shoes or her handbag. And the simple diamond teardrop necklace she wore for special occasions wasn't big enough to be specially insured. She looked nice, but far from glamorous.

Liam, on the other hand, wore a handmade suit. His shoes were probably also made just for his feet. And he smelled like sin, but who even knew if that was a cologne or just the way he smelled? Not her.

So was it the family thing again? Somehow, after their night together, she'd thought he was coming around to that. Nick wouldn't be at the wedding. There were so many people there that even if camera crews gatecrashed, it wouldn't be to see if Liam had brought his physical therapist again. No one in her family had to know yet, so it couldn't be the circumstances tonight. It was about Liam not feeling it between them, even though she knew this path had to be leading somewhere if he'd just walk it with her.

Off to one side of the gazebo, musicians lifted their instruments and began to play. As the groom and groomsmen stepped up into the twinkling gazebo, beautiful string music began to fill the air.

She reached up and touched Liam's elbow, causing him to turn and look at her finally. “It's starting. You might not want to keep your arms crossed. It sends the wrong impression.”

Everyone rose, so they did as well. Liam's arms unfolded to hang at his sides, but tension still screamed from his frame. She should have stood at the end, at least then she wouldn't be looking over his broad-shouldered surliness to see Freya in her dress.

Well, his surliness wasn't going to ruin the wedding for her. She wouldn't let it.

Unlike Liam, Grace loved weddings. She loved them even more when they seemed built to last rather than just being another notch in the bedpost of some star.

As Freya passed their row, it was impossible to miss her glow. She belonged there under the twinkling lights. Radiant in her pregnancy, the twins she carried only added to her blessings.

When they sat again, Liam kept his eyes forward, but at least he didn't cross his arms again.

She had to stop looking at him.

No matter what she felt, no matter what she believed could be theirs, it didn't matter if he didn't see it too.

She really had to stop trying to be with him. Leaving a door open to him was just as bad, she'd be the only one aware of it and waiting for him to come back through if she did.

They'd said one night, but it had been such a wonderful night, when he'd said yes to anything, she'd wanted to believe he felt it too.

He'd probably just felt the need to shut her up so he could sleep.

Six years hadn't made her any smarter about relationships.

The ceremony was crafted of beautiful words, and all around her Grace saw handkerchiefs out and plenty of eye dabbing.

Did Zack take Freya? Yes. He did.

Did Freya take Zack? Yes.

They kissed.

Loving, honoring, cherishing. Forever. Not just one night. Not just one night that got dragged into two by one pushy person. But the beauty she could identify she didn't feel. By the time it was over, all she could do was force a smile.

That's what her situation with Liam lacked: they weren't both in it. She was the only one there, waiting for him to make up his mind.

The wedding party walked back down the aisle, and Grace stood, clapped with the rest of them.

Eventually they moved from the site of the wedding up the stairs built into the hillside to another plateau, this time at the top. The large cliff-top oceanside overlook had been set up to host the reception. Dinner. Marble checkerboard slabs defining a dance floor. Candles twinkling on every table, and an open wood framework above supported thousands more of the twinkling white lights. More stars in the sky than ever for Zack and Freya.

Perfection.

“Bar,” Liam said, drawing her attention back to him with one word and gesturing hand. He pulled his elbow from her limp grasp and started away, saying as he left, “Find our seats?”

Find our seats? That implied he'd come and find her when he'd dulled his senses with bourbon or something higher proof if he could find that instead.

This evening couldn't end fast enough.

Grace turned to survey the tables to decide where to start looking. She wasn't really one of the elite, she just worked with them. She wouldn't be seated at the kiddie table, but it would no doubt be farther from the action than Liam would've been had his name been the one on the list and she'd been his plus one.

Like that would've ever happened.

The cheerful sound of people laughing and chattering hurt her head, and the whole situation hurt her heart.

She checked a few of the peripheral tables, found her name, and pulled out the chair.

Time to fake a smile and sit with him through the dinner. Time to pretend for the benefit of everyone else, so she didn't come off as one of those women who became depressed at weddings. If he hadn't driven them there, maybe she could just go and give her love and her congratulations to the couple and tell Liam they could go. Another reason why it would've been better to have stayed dateless for the occasion.

Was he still taking the pain medication?

Was it her place to ask if he was mixing alcohol and his anti-inflammatories?

No. He wasn't her patient anymore. And he clearly didn't want to be more.

This was what came from her making bold moves in Relationshipville. She should have just been happy to have gotten him into bed. She'd had her night. And it had been so good it had made her stupid. Her IQ always seemed to drop a few points where Liam Carter was concerned.

She forced a smile as people joined her, introduced herself, made the expected small talk. Eventually, Liam came over, placed a drink on the table for her and took his seat beside her, much to the delight of everyone at the table except Grace.

Drinking the fruity concoction gave her a cover for not being chatty and personable. Liam was the one everyone wanted to talk to anyway, and it suited her.

She'd muddled through difficult situations before. She'd survived being rejected in her underwear, she could handle this rejection too. But it would've been nice if it had come before the wedding. Then she could pretend easier.

By the time the dancing rolled around she was so ready to go but had to wait until the bride and groom were off the dance floor.

“Pardon me,” she murmured to the table at large, scooted her chair back and wound her way through the tables to the clearing and into a copse of trees on the far side.

Just a moment alone. That's all she needed. Somewhere quieter to breathe.

She wandered through the trees until she got to the edge of the cliff, out of sight, somewhere she could see the water, and leaned over.

Now what?

It wasn't long until she made out the sound of movement in the trees behind her. And voices. At first quiet, but then loud enough for her to recognize one.

James Rothsberg.

And he was talking to a woman.

Grace leaned around the tree just enough to see who was there, and considered her escape route.

This was what came from her going to the edge, there was nowhere to go besides over the cliff into the water and rocks far below, or past James and...

“Mila, you look good.”

Moonlight filtered through the treetops, a shaft illuminating the woman's face. Romantic.

Oh, hell.

Grace leaned back again, looking at the ledge between the trees and the cliff face.

Was that wide enough for her to skirt the trees without plummeting to her death in her high heels?

The last thing she wanted was to see her boss having A Moment. Especially tonight. Could she not get away from the magic in the air anywhere?

“Do I? I looked better at our wedding.”

Their wedding? Okay, maybe it wasn't going to be that kind of a moment.

Grace couldn't stop herself. She had to look again.

Should she clear her throat? Climb the trees and see if she could get in touch with her inner primate and balance-beam her way across the limbs without breaking her neck?

There was some talk of another woman, which Grace didn't entirely catch.

But then Mila raised her voice. “I don't care who you're dating. Or who you're not dating. Or who you're maybe thinking of one day dating. It's not my business anymore. My business is Bright Hope and my patients, that's what's most important to me now. Let's leave it at that.”

“A truce, then?”

“I haven't been picking fights with you, James.”

“I'm not picking a fight either, but that's how things keep going. So...truce. Let's just try to keep things professional.”

“Yes. That's what I've been trying to get across to you.”

“And once the photo shoot for the South LA Clinic is done, we'll just keep to our separate corners. No need for further interaction.”

“Sounds good.”

Grace could feel the emotion tingling in the woman's voice, but considering this wedding business and another woman...well, who could blame her for being roused to a quiet fight with her ex?