This Is True Love (Exclusive! #1) (18 page)

He stepped back. “You look beautiful. But you knew that already.” How could she not?

Fliss let out a slight chuckle. “Thanks. I think. Credit goes to my glam squad, though. They outdid themselves this time.”

“No, it’s all you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Her smile spread. “That’s more like it. I knew you had it in you to give me a genuine compliment.”

“I try.” His lips curved upward. The awkwardness between them had abated slightly as they’d worked on the documentary, but the reality of what they’d done, said, still loomed between them like a living, breathing entity. “Ready?”

“Yes. Let’s do this.” She made a move toward the front door, then stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Before I forget, you look pretty fantastic yourself,” she said, running her gaze up and down his body.

He felt the look like she’d actually caressed him. A vision of her sliding her small hands down his torso rose in his mind. His body tightened in arousal. He tugged on the sleeves of his jacket in a pathetic attempt to distract himself.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment. He’d learned long ago that a tuxedo was an essential part of a wardrobe for a man working in Hollywood. The suit was classic, nothing fancy other than the designer name on the label. “What can I say? I rock Tom Ford.”

A soft smile tugged at her red lips. “Indeed.”

They exited her house and greeted the waiting limo driver, Carl. The driver tipped his cap and opened the car door. Alex gave himself a mental pat on the back for not groaning out loud when Fliss’s dress pulled tight across her rounded ass as she climbed into the vehicle. He went in after her and relaxed against the plush leather seat. Carl closed the door. A few seconds later, they were on their way to the biggest night of his professional life.

“The fact that he invited us has to mean he chose us, right?” Fliss asked, tapping her fingers on her thigh.

“Fliss.” He captured her hand. Alarms rang in his head.
Mistake, mistake!
Touching her was the height of stupidity. The urge to squeeze her hand, to caress the spot on her wrist where her pulse drummed, to kiss it nearly killed him. He oh-so-casually moved his hand away. “We’ve been through this. No, it doesn’t. We confirmed that he also invited several other production companies. No one knows who he chose.”

She flopped against the seat with a huff. “You and your facts. Always so calm and rational. You’re such a party pooper.”

Alex chuckled. If only it were that simple. He projected calm and rationality because the alternative—locking Mansfield in a room until he gave Alex the answer he wanted—wasn’t a viable option. So he settled back for the short ride to Phillip Mansfield’s residence and ordered himself to remain calm and rational.

For the thousandth time, he reminded himself that Crescendo had as good a chance as any company. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have been sure, but that was before they’d filmed their mini-documentary. He was proud of the short film. It had heart and honesty—exactly the vibe he intended the movie to have—but he had no idea if Mansfield felt the same way. How could he? They’d sent the piece to Mansfield but hadn’t heard anything in return.

Alex raised his jacket sleeve and checked his watch. Less than two hours before they would know their fate. Two hours he would spend mingling and pretending he wasn’t counting down the minutes to the announcement.

Two hours he would spend with the woman sitting next to him, pretending he didn’t want her with every fiber of his being.

Fun.

***

When the limo pulled through the gates of Mansfield’s estate, Fliss looked out the car window in amazement. Phillip had gone all out, setting up a movie-premiere-style red carpet. They exited the limo and stopped midway down the carpet to allow the gathered photographers to take photos of Crescendo’s co-owners.

Alex stepped aside, and she moved effortlessly into the role of Felicity Chambers, movie star. She struck several poses, showing off every angle of the designer dress. Her smile was brilliant, her laughter at the compliments thrown her way meant to enchant. After the photographers took enough photos to fill three gossip magazines, Fliss marched toward the house next to Alex.

“How does it feel to be a free woman, Felicity? Expect to see your ex-husband tonight?” one of the photographers called out.

She kept the smile plastered on her face. Her stride didn’t falter, but the butterflies in her stomach, which she’d mostly managed to keep under control, broke free and started performing their favorite triple somersaults. While she was nervous about Crescendo’s chances tonight, she was also concerned about something else that awaited her inside. Media. Maybe lots and lots of media.

She’d turned down all requests for interviews since her divorce had been finalized because she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d lived it. Why in the world would she want to revisit it?

Alex placed his hand at the small of her back. “Hey, are you okay?” he whispered in her ear.

Caring Alex had made a return. It was no longer a surprise. Yes, she was okay. She’d become stronger and more confident in her sense of self over the past few weeks. Getting involved with Crescendo had been the right move no matter what happened between her and Alex. She could handle whatever came her way. “Sure am.”

With that newfound resolve, she allowed Alex to escort her into Mansfield’s home. Phillip lived in the posh Holmby Hills neighborhood. If she had to guess, she’d say the French chateau-style residence easily topped twenty-five thousand square feet.

They followed a procession of people down a hall. She recognized a Monet on the wall. Her heels click-clacked on marble floors. Lovely. Tasteful. Expensive.

Murmurs and music increased in volume as they approached the ballroom. They stepped into the room and Fliss halted. Wow. A veritable who’s who of Hollywood packed the room. Grammy, Emmy, and Oscar winners. Actors, directors, writers, singers, and producers. No reporters, but she had no doubt they’d appear like vultures ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. The magnitude of the evening hit her in a rush. Nerves erupted anew inside her.

“Breathe,” she whispered to herself. Crescendo’s success, her success, didn’t hinge on acquiring this project. But she wanted it so very badly. All the hours and effort she and Alex had put in had to pay off. She tore her eyes away from the masses of people and looked around.

A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. The cherrywood floor shone. Off to the side, tables with blinding white tablecloths and crystal centerpieces offered places to rest. At the end of the room, a large stage was set up. Two large screens flanking the stage played a slideshow of photos of Farrah at her most glamorous.

“Do you see Phillip?” she asked.

Alex scanned the crowd. “No, but it’s crowded.”

“True, but if he were here, he’d be holding court. He’s probably waiting to make a grand entrance.”

“Probably.”

A waiter wearing a uniform of a well-fitted black jacket and pants sidled up to them. He extended a silver tray in his hand. “Would you care for some champagne, Ms. Chambers and Mr. Graham?”

“Don’t mind if we do. Thanks.” Alex grabbed two flutes and handed one to her. She didn’t hesitate in tipping her head back and taking a hefty swallow.

Alex grinned. “Easy there.”

“This is insane,” she hissed. She pressed her free hand to her stomach, hoping to calm the overactive butterflies.

“You know Mansfield has never met a spectacle he didn’t like. Making a huge to-do about the movie celebrating his wife’s life certainly qualifies.”

“I guess. I was doing okay on the way here, but now… Oh, my God.”

“Relax. You’re a movie star, remember?” he teased.

“Not tonight, I’m not. I’m a producer hoping to get asked to prom. Pick me, pick me.”

He shot her a side-eyed glance. “I’m sure you had more offers than you knew what to do with.”

Fliss’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Maybe.”

A man walked up and slapped Alex on the back. “Alex, long time no see.”

Alex turned. “Evan, how are you doing?”

The middle-aged blond, who stood a few inches shorter than Alex, shook his proffered hand. “Good. How about you?”

“Can’t complain. Evan, have you met my business partner, Felicity Chambers?”

“No, I’ve never had the pleasure.”

She stepped forward and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Fliss, this is Evan Turner. He produces
The Ties that Bind
.”

“I love that show,” she said.

“As do I,” said a sultry voice from behind Fliss.

Evan held out his arm and tucked a stunning redhead, who looked to be at least twenty years his junior, into his side. “Alex, Felicity, please meet my wife, Dana.”

Fliss held out a hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

Dana took it in a dainty handshake. “Likewise. I heard the two of you were working together.” Unbridled curiosity dominated her voice and expression.

“Yes, it’s been great.”

“So you’re in a good place?” Evan interjected with a little too much glee in his voice and eyes.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Fliss refused to let her smile slip. Apparently, reporters weren’t the only ones she had to worry about asking personal questions.

Evan cleared his throat. “Oh. No reason.”

“Evan, Dana, I hate to be rude, but I see someone Fliss and I need to speak to. Excuse us.” Alex nodded at them, then steered Fliss away from the nosy couple.

They mingled, stopping every few feet to answer the same questions over and over.
Yes, they’d put in a bid to make the Farrah Blake movie. Yes, they enjoyed working together.
No one was gauche enough to ask about her divorce, but speculation ran rampant in their expressions and lay directly underneath the surface of every comment and question. It didn’t take Fliss long to realize this party was the terrifying roller coaster to the Hollywood Gives Back event’s kiddie train.

But she let the darts bounce off her. People liked to gossip, no matter how much money they had in the bank or clout they wielded. And the juicier the gossip, the more people wanted to know. But they wouldn’t get it from her. Everyone knew what they needed to know. She was divorced and moving on with her life.

They were talking to a former co-star of Fliss’s when a producer friend of Alex’s, an old college buddy, came and drew Alex away. Eventually Fliss found herself alone. And she was okay with that. More than. She selected a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and surveyed the burgeoning crowd on the dance floor. She swayed to the music and sipped the delicious, expensive champagne. Phillip really had gone all out.

“Ms. Chambers?”

Fliss turned and felt her smile slipping.

Shauna White from
Hollywood Tonight
stood there with a cameraman right behind her. Fliss didn’t have to search for the red light to know the camera was on. According to her manager, Shauna had been the most persistent reporter trying to get an interview.

Now she had Fliss cornered. Great. Her luck in avoiding reporters had finally run out. “How can I help you?”

Shauna flashed two rows of perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

No. Go away. “Of course.”

With the camera running, what else was she supposed to say?

The reporter’s smile turned all business. “Excellent.” Without taking her eyes off Fliss, she held out her hand, and the silent cameraman passed her a microphone. “How has your time at Crescendo been?” She held out the microphone.

“Better than I could have expected.”

“So do you think you have a chance to win the Farrah Blake sweepstakes?”

Fliss chuckled, all confidence. She knew how to play the game. Show no weakness. “Absolutely, but we’ll know for sure later on tonight. I certainly have my fingers crossed.”

“So, Felicity, this is your first event since your trying divorce was finalized. How are you holding up?”

She mentally rolled her eyes at the faux concern in Shauna’s voice. The reporter’s performance was Emmy-worthy. “Great. Work keeps me busy.”

“That’s great to hear. Do you expect to see Keith tonight?”

“I can’t say I expect to see him, but I suppose it’s possible.”

“How is your relationship now with Keith?”

“We’re both in good places, so it’s good.”

A predatory gleam entered Shauna’s eyes, pushing aside the fake concern. “How long did it take you to get to that good place? After all, you were married to a repeat adulterer. How many women did he sleep with?”

“That’s enough. Don’t answer that.”

Fliss jumped. Alex. Where had he come from?

Shauna sent her blinding smile his way. “I’m simply asking the questions our viewers are interested in, Mr. Graham.”

Before Fliss could blink, his hand whipped out, and the red light on the camera went dark. The reporter gasped. Alex’s eyes went to her. “Would you like it if I showed up at your job, camera crew in tow, to ask you very personal questions about your life?”