To Catch a Star (13 page)

Steeling herself, she lifted her gaze to his. His usual teasing grin was gone, replaced by that intense look that turned her insides more slushy than melting snow.

He leaned in close again. Would he really kiss her? Her entire body froze.

“What, you couldn’t wait for me?”

Christian turned towards the intrusive voice. Tessa sank back against the sofa cushions, emotionally depleted.

Dominic.

Christian leaned back, away from her, but his arm remained slung on the back of the seat behind her.

“Geez, but it’s warm in here! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Dominic flung his coat on the edge of the sofa across from them and sprawled on it. He grinned like a naughty school boy and winked at Christian. “Not that I blame you. She’s a much more attractive rehearsal partner. I wouldn’t have waited either.”

“Dom usually rehearses with me,” Christian explained. “He doesn’t make half as good a Celeste as you do.”

She cleared her throat. “You were right about your memory being good. I don’t think you need much more than that read-through. Shall I order another round of coffees?”

“Don’t stir yourself. I’ll do it.” Dominic leapt up, all vigour and energy. She wondered how he was ever able to sit still long enough to read lines with Christian. “But forget the hot drinks, I think it’s time for alcohol.”

She managed a smile. “I’d love a sherry.”

“Sherry it is. No need to ask what you want, you uncouth lout. Beer, right?”

Christian nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off Teresa. When Dominic left the room, heading for the hotel bar, he laid his hand on Teresa’s knee. “Thank you.”

Words deserted her. His hand on her knee seemed to have short-circuited her brain.

“Are you okay?” he asked, frowning. “You look stressed.”

Of course she was stressed. She had a wedding to plan, an absent bridegroom, a job she didn’t need and shouldn’t want, and a top-secret assignment that wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped. And a moment ago she’d nearly kissed him without a moment’s thought.

“I’m fine.” She moved her knee so his hand fell away. “It’s late and it’s been a long week. Please give Dominic my apologies, but I have to go.”

She rose and reached for her coat. Christian rose too, took the coat from her nerveless fingers, and helped her into it. His fingers brushed her neck as he straightened the collar, sending a most unacceptable tremor through her.

Not now
, she instructed her body.
Not him
. Her body didn’t seem to want to listen.

The buttons of her coat also seemed to have developed a mind of their own, slithering into the wrong holes.

“Let me,” Christian said with a soft laugh. He buttoned up her coat and tied the belt while she tried her damndest not to blush. Again. Especially since her mind had decided to indulge in a little flight of fantasy that he was undoing her coat rather than buttoning her up.

She grabbed at her bag, scarf and gloves. “I
really
have to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

If she could have run out of the hotel without losing her dignity, she would have. She was pretty sure she heard Christian snigger behind her as she left.

Damn him!

So much for not going all fangirl on him. He’d seduced her, as easily as he seduced every woman he met and she’d fallen for it like one of his blindly doting fans.

Fury at herself fuelled her all the way to her car.

One step forward, two steps back.

Just when he thought she’d begun to thaw, Teresa clammed back up again. It was as if these past weeks hadn’t happened and they were back in her car that first night they met, Tessa cold and haughty, Christian annoyed and irritable. And very, very horny.

Outside the trailer, the snow still swirled down in thick drifts. No longer pretty, just wet and cold and inconvenient. Between the trailers and the trucks it had turned to sludge, trampled by booted feet and the wheels of the carts used to ferry the film equipment.

The trailer door blew open, banging against a kitchen cabinet as a gust of sharp wind took it. Tessa stepped inside. Out of a crew of hundreds she alone seemed unaffected by the cold. Her face glowed, her eyes shone. She looked happy. God, but she was mesmerizingly beautiful when she allowed emotion to leak through.

Then she saw him and she dimmed the glow, hiding it from him. He scowled. He hated when she did that. Hadn’t they already shared so much? She knew him better than anyone alive. Didn’t he deserve the same?

“The journalists have started to arrive for the press conference. Robbie will radio when they’re ready for you.” She shut the door behind her and removed her padded North Face jacket. “It’s warm in here.”

He set down the script Robbie had given him. “This isn’t warm. You should try LA in July.” Or Los Pajaros in February. He was starting to look forward to the next leg of this journey. Except…

He rubbed a hand across his face. Since when did he need a woman in his life to make it complete? Since never. He belonged to no one. He was footloose and fancy free, and that was exactly the way he liked it.

“So what do you normally do on a Sunday afternoon?” He asked, determined to change the subject and stamp out the direction his thoughts had started to take far too often.

The light in her eyes dimmed further. “Usually I have lunch at the country club.”

“Who with?”

“Friends.” She seemed on the verge of saying something more, but stopped herself.

He frowned. “Would you rather be there now?”

She shook her head. “Making small-talk with people I’ve known all my life sometimes feels like harder work than running up and down between your trailer and the studio. How do
you
usually spend your Sunday afternoons?”

“I work. And on those rare occasions I’m not working, I stay home. Run on the beach, read scripts, watch movies. Normal stuff.” No fans, no paparazzi. His beach house was as close to heaven on earth as he could imagine.

So why did he spend so little time there? It wasn’t as if he needed to make three movies a year. He could afford to take it easier these days. So why didn’t he?

Because the house seemed empty these days. Too quiet.

The radio at Tessa’s hip crackled and Robbie’s tinny voice sounded. “Teresa, go for Robbie.”

She unhooked the radio from her belt and pressed the talk button. “Teresa here. Are you ready for us?”

“Any time you are,” Robbie answered.

Christian hoisted himself off the sofa. The press conference had been the brainwave of one of the executive producers trying to milk his stars for every bit of free press he could get. Usually Christian hated the distraction of the media while he was in production, but today he welcomed it.

Better than going back to his sterile hotel room. Better than being apart from Teresa. Better than being with her, so close he could touch her without being able to. The wall she’d raised between them since that afternoon in the hotel library seemed higher and more impenetrable than ever.

It was driving him so crazy he was sure he was going to explode any day now.

“We’re on our way.” She re-hooked the radio on her belt and retrieved her jacket.

Christian jogged down the steps and waited for her as she locked the trailer door and pocketed the key.

They walked together across the car park towards the studio buildings. The press conference had been set up in the canteen, adjacent to the warehouse space where they were filming the pirate-ship interiors.

The room was packed. Photographers and reporters jostled against one another. It must be a slow news day in Westerwald.

On a dais knocked together by the set-builders, stood the production’s phalanx of producers, the key cast members, the unit publicist, and the film’s official behind-the-scenes photographer. A seat remained free for Christian. At the door, he handed Tessa his coat, then strode forward.

Game on.

At sight of him the noise levels in the room boomed. He knew, they all knew, that he was the one they were here to see. He stepped up onto the dais and took his seat, and the unit publicist waved her hands to quieten the crowd.

The speeches that followed were dull. Christian tuned them out and focused instead on his audience. A few faces he recognised. Those he didn’t were no doubt from the European presses. Over their heads he looked for Teresa, unobtrusively pressed up against the back wall. One of the reporters, looking just as bored as he felt, followed his glance. The reporter nudged his neighbour. A few more heads started to crane.

Christian repressed an urge to pout like a petulant child. Just how small was this bloody country? Did Teresa know every damned person in it? Did everyone know her?

She didn’t appear to notice the whispers, but he had no doubt she was just as aware as he was. She missed nothing.

When the prepared speeches were done, the Q&A began. The journalists sat up in their seats, awake and eager now. Christian wished he felt the same. He’d done this so many times he could practically sleep-walk through these events.

There were questions for the producers, more for Nina, most for him.

What is your role in
The Pirate’s Revenge
?

“I play the pirate out for revenge.”

In his peripheral vision, Teresa’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. Okay, so he wasn’t being his usual cooperative self. He made more of an effort. “I play the bastard son of a king who becomes a pirate in order to exact revenge on the aristocrats, who once said he’d amount to nothing.”

How does it feel to play a character so different from yourself?

This character was far closer to his own than any other he’d played, but he gave an answer that fitted his whitewashed official back story.

And your character comes in to save the day?

“Of course – and don’t forget the bit about getting to kiss the pretty girl.”

Laughter.

What do you think of Westerwald so far?

“The road between my hotel and the palace, where we’re shooting is very interesting.”

More laughter.

Do you plan to stay in Westerwald a little after you’ve finished shooting?

“I’d love to, but I have a premiere in Paris, and then I head to Los Pajaros to work on the next leg of this film.”

How does it feel to be called Sexiest Man Alive by GQ?

“Pretty damned good, but I don’t think they used my best pictures.” He struck a pose and his audience laughed, soaking it up.

What was it like kissing Jennifer Lawrence?

“Even better than being called GQ’s Sexiest Man Alive.”

What made you choose this current project?

“The script says I get to kiss Nina Alexander.”

Titters from the audience. Reminded of her presence, the reporters turned to Nina.

Are the rumours about the two of you true?

She laughed. “Which rumours are those? The ones that we’re dating, that we’re sleeping together, or the one that I’m pregnant with Christian’s love child?”

Good girl. He knew he liked her.

One of the reporters in the front row turned in his seat to face the back of the room.

Ms Adler, is it true that there will be three crowned heads of state attending your wedding next week?

Christian kept the smile plastered on his face, but it took a huge effort.

As all heads in the room turned to her, Teresa smiled, calm and composed as ever. “At our last count it’ll be four. As you can imagine, the seating plan is a nightmare.”

More laughter.

Your engagement has been very short. Are you trying to get in there before the royal weddings in the summer?

Her expression was as neutral as ever but her mouth had the pinched look that suggested she was reigning in a strong emotion.

The reporter had said weddings. Plural.

Christian might not know much about this country, but he knew enough. Westerwald had only two princes. And one of them was Teresa’s ex.

He clapped his hands, recalling the journalists’ attention to the front of the room. “Enough talk about us. I’d like to thank our amazing team of producers who put this movie together. Let’s give them a round of applause.”

His audience was forced to clap in acknowledgement.

“I’d also like to thank the Archduke, who has so kindly let us use his palace as a film location.”

More applause, more genuine this time.

The unit publicist rose to wrap up the proceedings. Christian kept his expression interested and his gaze off Tessa, but she was impossible to ignore. The air in the room seemed to pulse between them.

She was getting
married
? Next
week
?

No wonder she’d been so good at keeping him at arm’s length. And no wonder she’d seemed so reluctant to reveal her interest in him. It wasn’t for any of the reasons he’d once thought – not because of the colour of his skin, or because he was shallow, or because he made his living in Hollywood.

But she
was
interested.

At last he allowed his gaze to find her. She didn’t have that glowing look of a bride-to-be. And she hadn’t mentioned her fiancé once in all the time he’d known her. Most women couldn’t shut up when they were in love and about to be married.

Why hadn’t she told him? What game was she playing?

The storm of emotion wracking her body threatened to erupt. Teresa crossed her arms over her chest with the effort to hold it in.

Why hadn’t she told him when she’d had the chance? She’d been on the verge of telling him earlier. She should have. It would have been better than this, in a room full of strangers.

And that look in his eyes… for the most fleeting of moments before he’d shut it down, she’d seen more than just surprise in his eyes. She thought she’d seen disappointment, and anger.

A hand touched her arm and she jumped.

“Frank has the car waiting. We need to get Christian out of here before the press pins him down,” Robbie said.

She nodded and headed back towards the door to wait for Christian. He moved through the crowd, smiling, exchanging a word here or there with the journalists, who pushed forward to get to him. The unit publicist remained at his side, shepherding him through the crowd.

But even though he smiled and laughed, the tension in him seemed obvious to her.

He closed the distance between them and made it to the door, pausing beside her. Anger radiated off him in waves. “What else don’t I know about you, Teresa?”

But he didn’t wait for her answer. He pushed past her through the door.

“Well, he’s a ball of fun today. I wonder what got into him?” Robbie asked, watching Christian’s retreating back.

She rather suspected she knew.

He’d been thwarted. He’d tried to seduce her and he’d failed. Just once in his life the big-time movie star hadn’t been able to get what he wanted with a snap of his fingers.

And now he knew he never would.

She should have felt something like triumph. Instead, she felt hollow inside.

She turned to follow him out the door, but Robbie’s hand tightened on her arm. “A few of us are meeting up for drinks at the Landmark Café tonight. Why don’t you and your fiancé join us?”

Tears burned her eyes. She blinked them away. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Beyond the door, the car waited. Frank revved the engine and she jumped in the back beside Christian.

He looked out the darkened window and avoided all eye contact.

She did the same. The city rushed by in a blur.

She broke the silence when they were mere blocks away from the hotel. “Are you angry that I’m getting married?”

She was sure she saw a flash of something in the depths of his eyes before the shutters came down. “Why on earth would that make me angry? It’s not like there’s anything between us. Is there?”

It was that first morning in the hotel dining room all over again, that intense, probing look that rendered her breathless and speechless.

She shook her head.

“You’re not wearing a ring.”

She looked down at her hands, clasped neatly in her lap. “It was at the jeweller’s for an insurance appraisal.”

“For nearly three weeks?”

She had to clear the lump in her throat before she could speak. “I haven’t had time to collect it.”

“I’m sorry I’ve kept you from such an important errand. I won’t need any hand-holding tomorrow, so you can get Frank to take you.”

She cleared her throat. “Thank you, but my assistant took care of it.”

He said nothing and she glanced up. She didn’t like the hard, speculative look in his eyes. “My assistant has an assistant. Interesting.”

She could think of nothing to say. She’d already said too much.

The car pulled up beneath the hotel portico. Neither of them moved.

“So why does a Baroness, who has her own assistant and can afford a designer wardrobe and a fancy sports car, need a job as my chaperone?”

She gave him the same sort of answer he’d given the reporters – glib and palpably untrue. “Because you’re an esteemed guest of this nation, and it was felt you should have an assistant suitable to your position.”

He held her gaze and her heartbeat raced. Would he call her out on the lie?

Then he turned away, climbed out of the car, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. The door slammed shut behind him.

“When’s the big day?” Frank asked.

“Valentine’s Day.”

In the rear-view mirror, Frank’s eyes rounded. “That’s just one week after filming ends,” he said.