She rolled her eyes. “Says the lawyer.”
“Hey, it’s true. Like it or not, it’s true.” He rubbed his chin, his eyes intent on the empty stage. “I’m more interested in knowing why he lied. Most men in his position would use their status as a way to get laid. Not hide it.”
“I might have said I didn’t like musicals.” She winced. “Or singers. Or actors. But I also told him why. He could’ve told me who he really was.”
“Ah. This sounds promising.” His eyes lit up. “So he didn’t want to admit he was the very thing you don’t like. Didn’t want to be put into that category. Hmm … ”
It was a lie, pure and simple. The lights flickered, warning the show was about to start again. People all around them rushed to their seats, and she fidgeted with her cup. “He could’ve told me the truth.”
“But he didn’t. I’m assuming he had his reasons for not coming clean. Maybe women are always assuming things about him because he’s an actor. Maybe he wanted to pretend he wasn’t one for one night.” Max shrugged. “The only way to find out is to ask him his reasons. But I’m more interested to find out how you met him, and how you spent your time together.”
“Nope.” Lexi flushed and took a drink of her wine. She could use a shot of Patron right about now. What had Justin awakened in her? An image of her licking his wrist slammed into her, making her hold her breath. The man sitting on the other side of her squeezed through, and she moved her feet out of the way to avoid being trampled. “Not happening. That’s my own business.”
“Mmhm.” He crossed his arms over his chest, not dropping his gaze. “I’ll get it out of you eventually. And if I can’t—your sister will.”
Lexi dropped her head back on the seat. “You’re going to tell her, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
Lexi groaned. “You’re cruel and heartless.”
“Might be. But in all seriousness? I’m glad you met this guy last night.”
“Why? I barely even know him—and he lied to me.” She thumbed through the Playbill, finding the page with his picture on it. Staring down at his smiling face, she thought to herself, I probably don’t even know him at all.
But that wasn’t quite true, now was it? She knew how his hands felt on her skin. Amazing. How he sounded when he talked, and how good he made her feel when he held her close, or made her laugh. Incredibly free. All of those sensations hadn’t been pretend. Last night had been real. She couldn’t have imagined it.
She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the stirrings of her body. Now was so not the time to get aroused.
Max reached out and squeezed her fingers. “When I came in here, I was expecting to find you crying in the chair, alone and miserable about Hugh. Instead … you look more alive than I’ve seen you in years.” He motioned between her and the stage with his finger. “And this? Hugh would’ve approved of it. Of you moving on.”
Lexi tensed, her heart plummeting. He was right. She’d moved on. Had been so distracted by everything going on with Justin that Hugh hadn’t even crossed her mind throughout the whole musical. She hadn’t even thought of him once since she saw Justin again. She hadn’t thought of anything but Justin. Would Hugh really have wanted her to be happy already? To move on so fast? Was moving on just over a year later too fast? Would he have been betrayed by how quickly she went into Justin’s arms—and how right it felt to be there?
She shook her head. “I’m not so sure you’re right. It feels wrong. We were supposed to grow old together. Have a family together.”
“But he wouldn’t want you to grow old alone.” Max hugged her close. “Trust me on this. Don’t run away from something that makes you happy because you feel guilty. You shouldn’t. Hugh wouldn’t want you miserable and alone.”
Lexi swiped the tears that had nothing to do with the musical away, just as the lights dimmed. “I will try to move on—but I don’t think it’ll be with Justin. It was one night and one night only.”
Justin strode onto the stage, his eyes falling immediately to her and Max—who had his arm around her shoulder. Justin stiffened, tearing his eyes away from her and onto his pretty costar, and sang without breaking stride. But that one-second span where their eyes met told her all she needed to know.
He wasn’t happy that she was in the arms of another man …
Chapter Six
Bloody fucking hell. If Lexi got even so much as an inch closer to that asshole next to her, Justin was going to flip the fuck out.
Outwardly, he sang his part with all of his soul, pretending his mind wasn’t wandering to the woman in the first row. He acted as if his heart wasn’t being ripped in two right now—since that was his job. To act. But it was a lot harder to act when the feelings were real. When they hurt as much as he hurt right now.
There, sitting with tears running down her face, was Lexi. She was crying and obviously enjoying the musical she supposedly hated. She had fucking lied—and had obviously lied about other things, as well. After all, she was with a bloke who seemed awfully familiar with her. And awfully comfortable touching her.
And he felt fucking gutted over this whole situation.
Who was the asshole next to her? Why was he touching her? And why did she bloody well let him? He wished he could stop singing, storm off the stage, and demand to know the blasted truth about what she was doing here. Had she lied to him about her relationship status? Was she really married, or engaged—instead of a grieving fiancée left behind? Worse yet, had she known who he was all along?
Perhaps she had led him on so she could brag to her friends about how she had bedded him the night before his big opening. Had he been played?
It sure felt like he fucking had.
Toward the end of the play, he couldn’t help but look down at her as he sang. Couldn’t help but sing to her and her alone, silently questioning her motives and the one night they’d shared together. She straightened when their eyes met, her own not dropping from him no matter how long he stared at her. He was forced to look away first, since he needed to kiss his fiancée on stage.
As he closed his lips over his fiancée’s, holding the kiss for the required five seconds, he could feel Lexi’s eyes on him. What was she thinking right now? Was she angry with him for not telling her the truth? Her face had been closed off and unreadable. No big surprise there.
He’d known she would be.
When the orchestra played its last notes, the crowd rewarded them with applause. As the actors took turns bowing and smiling, Justin watched her. She stood up, one of those Sippy cups they gave perfectly capable adults in her arm, and clapped loudly. Her eyes still shined with tears—and she was looking right back at him.
Gutting him on stage, for all to see.
Her blasted companion eyed him, then leaned in close to Lexi and said something. She flushed and elbowed him, her mouth tight. The curtain closed, cutting off his line of sight, and he lunged into action. Shaking the hands of his fellow actors as he stormed across the stage, he hurried out the side exit of the stage and rushed into the crowd.
Big mistake.
One he should have known better than to commit. He barely made it a step before the crowd converged on him, begging for pictures and autographs. Normally he loved this sort of thing, but he could see Lexi getting closer and closer to the exit, while he was stuck in front of the stage. She was going to leave him. Again.
And he couldn’t stop her … again.
As he forced smiles and posed for pictures with fans, out of the corner of his eye he watched the woman he would never be able to forget leave his life. She obviously had no intention of speaking to him again. Or, seeing him again. He swallowed past his aching throat, cursing inwardly.
Damn it all to hell, he had hoped he’d been wrong about her. Hoped she wouldn’t flee with the man by her side before he could confront her. She probably hadn’t wanted him to approach her because she didn’t want the man to know about them. That had to be why she left. It was
over. They were over … if they’d ever really begun. One night did not a relationship make.
By the time the crowd thinned, and he changed into his street clothes, he was buried in a foul mood. Sure, the night had been a success even if he had fumbled his lines when he first saw Lexi. But besides that, the musical had gone smooth. Perfect.
Unlike his life.
He growled, tossed his bag over his shoulder, and headed down the hallway. Once again, it was abandoned and he was alone. A feeling of deja vu washed over him, but he doubted Lexi would be waiting in the empty alleyway for him this time. By now, all of the other actors would have already signed their autographs and would be heading out to party.
He shoved through the door, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the shadow of someone standing there in the alley. “Lexi?”
She stepped forward, and he knew instantly it wasn’t her. Lexi wouldn’t wear metallic, spiked heels. Not in a million years. “No. Who’s Lexi?”
He sighed and ran his hands down his face. Stupid, foolish hope. Of course it wasn’t her—instead it was the lead prostitute. Again. What the hell was her real name, anyway? And how could he get rid of her once and for all without telling her to stuff a sock in it? “A friend of mine.”
“Oh. Good.” She smiled, placing her hands on his chest with far too much familiarity. “I was afraid I had competition.”
No, she didn’t have competition because she wasn’t even in the game. But he wouldn’t say his thoughts out loud. “Of course not. But I’m going home now. I’m beat.”
“You’re always beat. Or going home. Or want to be alone.” She pouted, giving him a flirtatious look through her eyelashes that probably worked on most men. That probably would have eventually worked on him if not for Lexi’s hold on him. “Don’t you ever want company? Or just some fun? Don’t you get tired of always being by yourself?”
He tensed. She echoed his thoughts perfectly. He was tired of being alone. Of never having anyone by his side. “Occasionally. But … “
“But I’m right here.” Stepping closer, she tugged his head down and kissed him without a moment’s hesitation. There was no sweetness or even a fragment of emotion in the movement. It was all practiced and perfect. As if she had done this way too many times, and had perfected her technique. Is this how he had been before Lexi? Moving through the motions because he could, but not caring about their outcomes?
She practically forced her tongue into his mouth, shoving him back against the wall with aggression. He knew most guys liked a girl who took charge and wasn’t afraid to be the alpha in bed—but to him it felt forced. Fake. He tore free and gasped for air, fighting the revulsion in his throat threatening to come back up. The clacking of heels filled the silence.
“Bloody hell. I’m sorry, but—” He broke off, his gaze focused over the woman’s shoulder. His eyes met Lexi’s. She clenched a Playbill in one hand, and a pen in the other. What was she … ?
The autographs for her sister.
That’s why she had come. Her face went pale, and she seemed like she was frozen in shock. She had obviously seen the whole kiss. Had seen this woman’s arms around him and her tongue jammed down his throat.
She seemed to snap out of whatever held her motionless, because she spun on her heel and practically ran away from him. He dropped his hands from the lead prostitute’s arms and stumbled after her. “Lexi, wait!”
“No,” she called over her shoulder. “Just go back to … whoever she is to you. I’m leaving.”
She sped up, her steps hurried and uneven. As if she was upset. Of course she was. She had come to see him and had found him kissing another woman. He ran down the alley, easily catching up to her. He gripped her elbow, stopping her from walking into the crowded street.
“Please, let me explain.”
She spun on him, meeting his eyes. And this time he read the emotion hidden within their depths. Accusation and anger and something else …
Regret, maybe?
“Explain what, exactly? That you’re really an actor? I kind of figured that out on my own. Thanks for the warning, by the way.” She held her arms akimbo. “Oh, wait! Did you want to tell me why you were kissing another woman? Because if so, don’t bother. I don’t care. It’s obvious last night was a one-time thing. I just came here to get your autograph for my sister—but I don’t want it anymore.”
She tugged free and headed down the road. Toward his place. He followed her, falling in to step beside her easily. “And let your sister down? Don’t be silly. Give it to me.”
He held his hand out, palm up, but she just stared him down, her whole body tense. “No. I don’t want it anymore. Jessie will have to live without it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He withdrew his hand, feeling like a bloody fool. “I forgot that you don’t even like actors—or was that a lie you told me to get me to let my guard down?”
She stiffened. “You’re actually accusing me of lying? Really?”
He bit back an angry response. They were in front of his building, and he didn’t want to have this conversation in public. “Let’s go.” He snatched her hand and dragged her to the door. She dug her heels into the cement. He whirled on her, nostrils flaring. “Either you come with me now, or I will follow you home and we can have this conversation there. Either way, you’re not getting away from me until you hear what I have to say.”
“I don’t have to do a damn thing you say, thank you very much.”
“After running away from me last night, you bloody well do.” He snatched her hand up. “Now let’s go.”
She paled. “You’re not being fair.”
“Aren’t I?” He stared down at her, his jaw clenched. When she didn’t back down, he sighed. Running a hand through his stiff hair, he looked up at the night sky. “You did run away from me.”
“I didn’t run. I left.”
“For the love of … ” He clenched his jaw. “Can we please go up? I just want to talk in private. I don’t want to do this in the middle of the chaos that is New York fucking City.”
She nodded, biting down on the corner of her lower lip. “Fine. Let’s go.”
He opened the door and they walked to the elevator in silence. It wasn’t until he unlocked the door to his flat and they went inside that either one of them spoke. The implicit tension between them hung in the air, palpable and thick. He leaned against the door, eyeing her cautiously. She looked like she might be three seconds from drawing blood.
“I know we both have things to say. So let’s take turns.” He flinched when she stepped closer to him, her fists balled tight. “You can go first. Go ahead. Yell at me.”
She pressed her lips together. “Why didn’t you tell me who you really were?”
“You saw me and assumed I was something I wasn’t. And to be truthful? It was … nice. A lot of women have this fantasy of sleeping with an actor or singer. They do anything to get one into bed, and then leave when they’ve achieved that.” He forced a shrug, even though he was being uncomfortably honest. “I thought maybe if I didn’t tell you who I really was, I might stand a chance at having something more real. Something in my life that wasn’t just a meaningless shag. I thought I might have a chance at feeling normal for once. You made me feel normal.”
She sucked in a deep breath, looking as if he punched her in the windpipe. “Oh. And I left.”
Their gazes collided. “And you left.”
“I didn’t leave because I got what I wanted and was done with you.” She lifted her chin, tossing her hair back defiantly. “And I didn’t use you. But you did lie to me.”
“I know I should’ve told you the bloody truth, and I was going to.” He pushed off the door, approaching her. She backed away from him. “I was going to tell you the truth when I came out of the bathroom, but you were gone. Why did you leave?”
She swallowed hard. “I thought I was supposed to. Isn’t that how one-night stands work? We had sex, and I … left. I didn’t know what else
to do.”
“There you go thinking too much again.” He grit his teeth, not sure how he should take her sentence. Had she really wanted to leave then, or had she left because she thought she was supposed to? “So that’s all you wanted, then? Just one night?”
“Isn’t that what we agreed to? Distractions? It wasn’t supposed to be more than that,” she whispered, fiddling with her purse strap. “We didn’t exactly wait to hop into bed, did we? I thought … I thought I was supposed to leave before it got all awkward.”
“Awkward.” He laughed harshly. “I see.”
She put her hands on her hips, her eyes shooting sparks. “Did you want me to stay?”
He stiffened. He didn’t know how to respond. Hell, yes, he had wanted her to stay. Hell, he still wanted her to stay. But did he want to admit the truth, when she clearly hadn’t wanted to? But then again, could he afford not to? Right now, he needed her more than he needed anything in his life.
And he wouldn’t lose her because he was too much of a pussy to admit it.
“Yes, I fucking wanted you to stay.” He smoothed his hair, flinching when he touched the stiff locks. He had more gel in his hair than Justin Bieber on a Friday night. He needed a shower—but he needed her more. “I didn’t want you to leave. At all.”
She nodded, her eyes on his. “I didn’t really want to leave, either. But it scares me that I wanted to stay.”
He took a step closer to her, and this time she didn’t back up. “Because you feel guilty? Or you don’t think you should move on? Be happy?”
“Yes and no. I know I’m not making sense.” She set her purse down and held her hands out, palms up. “But miraculously enough, I feel more upset about what is going on between us right now, than Hugh. And then that makes me feel even worse. And guilty. So guilty. I’m not prepared for this. I’m not ready.”
He captured her hands, holding them close to his chest. He couldn’t not touch her. “I know how hard it is to move on, but sometimes the Universe knows when you’re ready—even if you don’t. Sometimes it’ll throw stuff your way, even when you swear you don’t want or even need it.”
ONE NIGHT (Novella) (Superstars in Love Series) Page 6
