She turned, but she was too close to the plastic bins with the vats of gold glitter that sparkled over the front row. She tripped.
Axel shouted, “Look out,” as he rushed to help Emily.
Too late. She fell into the plastic bin with an explosive bang. He offered her his hand to stand. She blinked at him and asked, “What happened?”
Once she was upright, he noticed the glitter glued to her back and legs like she’d painted herself in gold. He explained the obvious. “You fell into the vat of glitter for tomorrow’s show.”
Her eyes widened as she glanced behind them at the mirror near his hair station. “I’m covered in glitter?”
And half of this was his fault for wanting to hurry her out of his dressing room. “Emily, I'm so sorry.”
Her face flamed bright red again even as she smiled shyly. She was so expressive that it caught him off guard as she said, “Totally okay. I interrupted you--I'm sure you have a routine or something.” She brushed at her legs and skirt, which just gathered glitter on her fingers. "You didn't know I'd be here."
If he let her go, he’d never find out what she looked like if he kissed her.
The thought slammed against him like a slap to the face. He took her hand. “Let me make it up to you. Want to join me for dinner?”
She shuffled her feet. “I’m so embarrassed right now.”
The way her blush glowed tugged at him. He squeezed her fingers. “Don’t be. You’re cuter than I first realized.”
“Ouch.” She pulled her hand back.
Had he hurt her fingers by squeezing too hard? He hadn’t meant to, but he was hungry. He stepped back. “What?”
She shook her head and her ponytail took that as an excuse to release a few strands of soft brown hair. “Never mind. I’ll let you go.”
He tucked his hand in his pocket. “Sorry if I hurt you. I just want to get dinner. I’m famished.”
“You didn’t hurt me. I took my hand back because I was embarrassed because you’re… you.” She swallowed the last statement like it was obvious, but he wasn’t sure he believed her. Women didn’t usually pull away. “Are you sure you want to go with me?”
An hour or two with Emily might be fascinating. She seemed genuine and Axel wondered what she did for a living, what she liked and didn’t like, what her favorite color was, or what kind of car she drove. Normal things. Tonight could be interesting, so he flashed her the smile he’d practiced from years of being on TV and nodded. “Absolutely. On one condition.”
Her rosy lips opened and didn’t quite close. She tried to stand taller though that only caused more glitter to fall off her legs. “What’s that?”
He added his signature wink that usually made people do what he wanted. “Distract me from my family drama. I want to hear all about your life.”
She tugged the hem of her half-blue, half-gold glitter ruined shirt. “I’m pretty boring.”
He forgot pretense this time, enchanted by her sincerity. He lifted his brow, wanting to take her hands, but he didn’t want to hurt her again. “I doubt that--you'll still tell me?”
She nodded and smiled sweetly at him. “If that’s what you want.”
“Perfect.” But, he’d ruined her clothes and she’d feel better minus the glitter. He could make a phone call and get her a black cocktail dress to accompany him for a fancy dinner. He pressed his hand on her elbow and pointed her toward the bathroom. “Take ten minutes to clean yourself up. I’ll have one of my handlers get you new clothes--these will be washed and returned.”
Emily rocked on the heels of her black sandals. “You don’t have to go through the trouble.”
He took out his phone to text his half-sister, Victoria. “You’re going to dinner with me. I insist I fix what I ruined.”
She didn’t move for a few seconds, seemingly torn before she said, “You didn’t…but okay, thanks.”
“Looking forward to talking to you, Emily.”
Once she closed the bathroom door behind her, he texted his sister. While he wasn’t sure what he wanted out of life, maybe for tonight he didn’t need to think about climbing a mountain, or returning to another tour, or his family. It sounded nice to know how the other half lived. And Emily intrigued his interest. Dinner would satisfy so long as she painted her normalcy with enough color that he could imagine being someone no one ever recognized.
Emily’s legs still glittered. She’d washed and used a loofa brush that Axel Morgan had in his dressing room. She’d scrubbed and scrubbed, but she still had a shine to her.
Her skirt and blouse were probably ruined.
She picked up the black cocktail dress left at the door and read the label.
The House of Morgan.
This was out of her budget. The most couture outfit she’d ever owned was a pair of used Coach sneakers someone had given her that they’d wanted to toss out.
Her sister probably wore couture everything.
Tomorrow she’d see Linsey—but that was for tomorrow.
Tonight she’d spend with her childhood fantasy. Axel was even sexier than she’d ever imagined.
The sparks that flew from his touch set her off course, though she realized the attraction was one-sided. There was no way he thought she was anything more than a klutz.
Emily slipped the dress on and it fit perfectly, then she slid her feet into brand-new Louboutin black heels in her size.
She turned around and zipped the back while checking herself out in the mirror.
Sleeveless wasn’t her usual style, but she’d bare her curved arms, her skin pale against the black. This dress had a push-up bra somehow built into it. Her chest didn’t normally heave with each breath, but it made her feel sexy.
She pinned her ponytail with four bobby pins from her pocketbook into a bun for a more sophisticated look.
Done, she came out of the dressing room and met Axel’s blue eyes. He put his phone down and stood. She ignored the hum in her veins and walked over to him, the dress shimmering. “This is the House of Morgan.”
“You look beautiful.” He gave her a slight bow.
No. She wasn’t and never would be her sister. Beauty was an illusion, but her pulse beat faster near Axel. If he touched her, she’d probably create enough energy inside her to fuel a flight into space--she glanced away and said, “This is out of my price range to pay you back.”
He shrugged, fixed his button-down shirt into his black slacks--he'd also changed--and said, “I get the clothes for free. My sister and brother own the company. Did I pick the right size?”
“You clearly know women’s sizes.” What did he think of her?
Get yourself under control. Emily strove to appear confident, otherwise, she’d do something else completely stupid in front of him. Like fall into a plastic bin of glitter.
He offered his arm to guide her toward the door. “So that’s a yes.”
“Yeah.” She linked her arm with his. Another shock raced through her skin, but she pretended she wasn’t affected. They walked outside beneath a glowing moon high in the sky--it was well after midnight.
Her father always said "nothing good happens after midnight" but tonight she'd make an exception. The hot humid air of Miami was cooler at night, and she was on Axel’s arm.
He led her toward a limo where more than a few of his fans had lingered in the parking lot. People screamed at them.
He waved and cameras flashed in her face.
She was almost blind as they ducked into the limo. Once the door closed behind them, she stared at Axel in wonder. In another life he’d have been a Viking warrior with those long blond locks of his.
Emily swallowed and asked, “Where are we going?”
He shrugged as the limo took off. “I’ve no idea. I told the driver and my manager to find something Italian.”
Fair enough. For one night she’d throw caution to the wind and live like a star. She couldn’t ignore the roar of her heart that she was here, with Axel. She smoothed her hand ove
r her bare knee. “I thought you’d eat French food every night.”
He pressed his shoulder into hers as he said, “Only when I know the chef can do it right. So many Americans use too heavy of a cream. I also love Cajun, when you get the right chef.”
The limo stopped. How had time moved so fast? She never wanted this night to end. Goosebumps were all over her body just from his being near. She stepped outside.
The beach offered a cool breeze. She stood in front of a high-rise with a restaurant on the first floor as he joined her. “Paris to New Orleans?”
He walked beside her and held the door open for her. “And lots of time in Hollywood, filming.”
“I’ve watched.” A maitre’d walked over to them with menus in hand and led them past all the people in line.
Under normal circumstances she’d be one of the people they passed with a buzzer in hand waiting for a table.
The maitre’d brought them to a private room and placed the menus before them. Axel waited for her to sit and then asked, “What was that like?”
She picked up the menu though reading wasn’t easy. The words didn’t focus before her eyes--she was too excited. “What do you mean?”
He placed his hand on hers as he perused his menu. “I never watched TV really.”
Half of her life was either behind a screen, either the TV or her computer. Sometimes both. She blinked and glanced at him, again seeing him as hotter than she ever imagined, and she had imagined plenty. “You’ve never been a fan of anything?”
“No.” He put his menu down as he stared at her like he studied her. “There was never time. It was either work or go home to my family. TV was just noise in the background, but I never watched it.”
Perhaps it was different if it was your face on the screen. She had no idea, but she put her menu down and decided she’d just have whatever he did in order not to break this spell. “And music? Do you listen to any?”
He squeezed her hand. “I heard songs that I’d sing along with. Once the show ended, I had more time and Dwayne and I would get together to write songs.”
She knew the basics of his childhood from what she’d read online, but she quickly asked, “On the show, Dwayne was always your enemy, but then you teamed up for the band.”
He nodded like he’d been asked this thousands of times, which he probably had. “Dwayne had the fun role. He could be crazy on the set and then laugh with us once the cameras turned off.”
Okay, stop being a teenybopper. You’re twenty-five. A waiter came and took Axel’s order.
She had no idea what he said as he spoke in Italian, but she handed over the menu and said, “Make that two.”
Axel then ordered wine and the waiter left.
Once they were alone the heat in her blood sparked. “The teenage girl in my heart would have loved to see your show, live, and in person.”
He traced her thumb and that spark grew stronger than a river current. “You promised to talk about you.”
Thinking was hard. She honestly had no fantastic adventures. She shrugged and tilted her head as she said, “My life wasn’t half as interesting.”
He kissed her wrist. “Indulge me. Where were you as that teenage girl?”
Never wash that wrist again. The teenager inside her clearly still had an opinion. She shook off those thoughts and said, “Dallas.”
His lips thinned like he didn’t believe her for a second. “You don’t sound like you’re from Texas.”
She didn’t have the Miami accent either—slightly Hispanic. “I gain a drawl when I’m with family.”
“I get that. I sometimes have a French accent after hanging out with my mom.” The waiter returned with wine and salads.
Neither said anything, but her heart pounded so hard she feared he would notice. The waiter left and she said, “I’ve never heard it.”
He showed her a fancy bottle that read Kir Royale, which the label described the drink as crème de cassis topped with champagne . He poured two glasses of the pinkish-red beverage. “You’ve never known me in my day-to-day life.”
“Fair enough.” She sipped the sweet drink.
She’d looked up all things French once and failed miserably to learn the language in high school in case she’d ever ended up here, but now her mind was empty of what she’d researched.
He finished his sip, put down the mostly full flute and said, “So let’s hear more about you.”
Oh. Seriously, she needed to take charge of this conversation. Otherwise he’d want to leave before the salad.
Get it together, girl. In the fantasy world, she’d always been comfortable talking with Axel. She tugged her ear and traced the fabric that was soft as silk against her waist. She hadn’t read what material the dress was made from, but that didn’t matter--she felt sexy wearing it. “What do you want to know?”
The wink he gave her would have made her knees weak, but luckily they were already sitting. “What do you do for a living?”
You’re smart. You like being witty. So be yourself. It was now or never to follow her own advice. She needed to act like she belonged here with him if she was ever going to think straight--and it was good practice for the wedding, and Jennifer. Emily folded her hands on the table, and pretended this was the law firm where she managed the analytical associates. “I’m an executive assistant for the head lawyer at Bentley and Associates.”
His smile widened as he cut a grape tomato in half and then popped it in his mouth. Once he finished eating, he asked, “And what does that mean?”
Confidence. She quickly rattled off her resume. “I schedule meetings, organize the clients, oversee the office supplies, draft memos for the company, and whatever else is needed.”
The waiter lifted their empty salad dishes as Axel asked, “How much does an executive secretary cost?”
She waited until they were alone. The waiter didn’t need to hear how she belonged with the regular people near the door. Emily looked over his shoulder and whispered, “I get $60,000 a year as I work for the big boss.”
His wince was visible in the reflection on the glass. “That doesn’t sound like much. How do you live on so little?”
The waiter brought a bottle of white wine and took the barely touched Kir Royale away. Emily held her tongue while he poured and then left. Alone again she said, “Agreed. For what I do, I should get more, though I’ve not worked there for that long--but I did get a ticket to come to your show tonight. It pays the bills," mostly, "and I’m up for a raise soon.”
He picked up his glass and stared across the rim at her. “I see. Was it any good?”
“It’s magical. You’re magical.” She offered her glass to clink with his, leaning closer to him in hopes of a kiss. A confident woman wouldn't hold back.
She couldn’t pucker her lips as the waiter returned with their pasta dishes.
The moment was broken. She sipped her wine as the chicken parmesan was placed in front of her.
Good. She liked this. How had she not recognized the words before?
Maybe that spell was finally breaking enough for her to act like herself. Axel squeezed her hand. “No, I’m a flesh and blood man, Emily. I enjoy entertaining people.”
Nope. Don’t lie to yourself girl. He’s way out of your league. The teenage girl inside her had lots to say. She brushed off the warning. “Why?”
He took another small sip of his wine and then stared into the liquid, slightly twirling the stem of the glass. “At first it was cathartic, but now… I’m older and realize I’ve lived in a bubble all my life.”
Her heart plummeted. She brushed her thumb against the golden hair slightly visible at his wrist. “You’re going to retire?”
He patted the top of her hand and shook his head. “Pull back. I don’t know what I want to do with my life anymore.”
Billions of dollars wasn’t something she’d ever have to retire on. Actually, people like her probably didn’t get to retire at all. She ignored the passing thought, adju
sted the napkin on her lap and said, “Well, I hope you continue to sing.”
They ate in silence as classical jazz played softly in the background. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but at least her ears stopped buzzing. She needed to remember everything about this night with Axel.
They finished their meal and he wiped his lips, then put the napkin on his plate. “Why?”
Why what? It took her a second for her brain to catch up. Emily, also done, put her fork and knife down, and picked up her almost untouched wine. “Because then I get to buy more songs. You make my day a little sweeter every time I’m in the car.”
He leaned closer to her and goosebumps rose from his attention. “How do I do that?”
Her life wasn’t horrible, and she didn't want his pity, but they were very different. She ignored the heat in her cheeks and said, “I listen to you and somehow the traffic doesn’t matter…” Her lips tingled, and she lifted her face in an invitation to kiss her. “Because you’re with me.”
He traced her cheekbone and her eyelashes fluttered. “Emily?”
Only he made her name sound sweet and exotic and beautiful as she asked, “Yeah?”
But instead of kissing her, he held both her hands captive between them. “How are you in Jennifer’s wedding? She doesn’t associate with being poor.”
She’d misread his cues once again. She ignored the pulse in her veins and explained, “My sister is Linsey Wilson.”
His eyes widened, and his chuckle was enough to say without a word that he knew Linsey. “That’s who you look like.”
“No. I don’t.” They had the same parents and maybe the same dark chestnut hair color. But her sister was out-of-this-world gorgeous and Emily wasn’t anything like her.
Axel was only inches from her face as he still held her hands. “Well, actually you’re prettier than her.”
Impossible. She shook her head but didn’t move too much. Axel was here and sexy and staring at her with deep blue eyes. She pursed her lips and asked simply, “You’ve met my sister?”
Secret Bridesmaid Page 3
