Love in the Limelight Volume Two: Seduced on the Red CarpetLovers Premiere

by Ann Christopher

  It hurt. In a twenty-four-hour period that had pretty much maxed her out on the hurt thing, what with that final talk with Hunter, the all-night crying and a poignant goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Chambers, the wounded silence from Kendra was, quite possibly, the worst. Was this what she’d been like when her mother died? Was this what Hunter had had to overcome? How had he managed it?

  “Kendra.” Swiping away another of her never-ending tears, she focused on not sniffling and keeping her voice upbeat. “I have to go to Mexico for my work, okay? I really wish I could stay here and play with you for a little while longer but I have to do my job. Can you understand that? It’s like when you have to go to school. Sometimes you don’t want to go, but you have to, anyway. And I don’t want to leave here, but I have to, anyway.”

  Kendra pressed her lips into the green fur of her stuffed animal and said nothing.

  “But I’m going to send you a postcard when I get there. And they have lots of fossils and stuff in Mexico, so I’ll see if I can find one for you. And maybe a dinosaur T-shirt. Could that work, do you think?”

  Kendra shrugged.

  Oh, thank God! A shrug was communication, right? It wasn’t a sentence or anything but it was a definite step up from being ignored, wasn’t it?

  “Kendra,” she said helplessly. “You’re a wonderful girl. I’m going to miss you so much.” I love you. I wish you were mine. I wish your father wanted me enough to let me into your life a little more. “Can I please give you a hug before I go?”

  This time the communication was a lot more painful: Kendra scooted farther into the corner, away from Livia. The sight of that tiny little figure so stiff with disapproval and disappointment was more than Livia could take. Dropping her head into her hands, she gave in to the despair and sobbed as quietly as she could manage, grateful that Kendra wasn’t looking and hopefully didn’t know that she’d fallen apart.

  But three seconds of that nonsense was enough. She needed to work on getting her emotions under control. No time like the present, right? Wiping her face dry, she tried to smile and tried harder to keep her voice upbeat and positive.

  “Bye for now, Kendra.”

  If only she could tell the girl that she’d be back soon when she returned to tell Hunter about the baby. If only she could tell her that she’d become a big sister next year. If only Hunter would share his wonderful family with her and maybe let Kendra visit her in L.A. when the baby came. If only…

  Wow. She had enough if onlys to fill up a stadium, didn’t she?

  “Bye, Willard.” The dog, at least, looked around to acknowledge her existence. When she held her hand out to him, he crawled forward on his belly and let her scratch his soft ears one last time. From here on out, she’d have to watch The Dog Wrangler by herself and that would never be as much fun as enjoying it with him. “Silly dog.”

  Okay, Livia. Stop stalling. Time to go.

  She stood, dusted off her jeans and headed for the cottage to grab her bag. She’d turned in her rental bike already and printed her boarding pass. The only thing—

  Running footsteps came up behind her and she turned and saw Kendra sprinting after her. With an incoherent cry of happiness, she stooped in time to catch her and swung her up into her arms, thrilled with the weight and heat of that sturdy little body and the sweetness of her skin and the fruity fragrance of her twisted hair.

  “I love you, Kendra.” Livia kissed those fat little cheeks over and over again and let the words come, because they were the truth and the girl had the right to know. “I love you.”

  Kendra wrapped her strong arms around Livia’s neck, nearly strangling her with affection, and she hung on for much longer than Livia ever could have hoped. Then she pulled back and offered Livia her stuffed diplodocus.

  “Take him with you,” she said. “He’s always wanted to see Mexico.”

  *

  “Can someone tell me who died?”

  Hunter, who was sitting at his parents’ kitchen table at the B and B, looked up from the cup of stone-cold cappuccino he’d been nursing for the past half hour and glared at his younger brother. With his usual flair for the dramatic, Ethan was standing in the middle of the room, putting on a show. Though Hunter was glad to see him, he’d have to cut the youngster down to size if he kept up like this.

  “I mean,” Ethan continued, “what could be wrong? The grapes are harvested, the prodigal son—that would be me—is back and the sun is shining. Where are the smiles and the laughter? What the hell’s gotten into you people?”

  “Watch your language,” muttered Mom, who was manning the cappuccino machine. “I don’t know what they teach you in L.A., but around here, we don’t swear.”

  “Damn right.” Dad, who was pouring a bowl of kibble for Willard, winked.

  “We’ll get right to work on killing that fatted calf for you, Ethan,” Hunter said. “Would that make you feel better? What about a parade?”

  “A parade would work.” Ethan accepted a steaming cup from Mom, leaned against the counter and sipped appreciatively. “I’m serious, though. What’s wrong?”

  Mom put her hands on her hips and frowned over at Hunter. “Should you tell him or should I?”

  Ah, shit. Mom had been in a rare mood ever since Livia stopped by to say goodbye earlier, and the last thing he needed right now was Mom launching into him in front of everyone. No good could come of that. He already felt like he was crawling out of his skin what with Livia leaving to resume her glamorous life far away from him.

  Even now he couldn’t quite believe it.

  Livia was gone. She’d gotten on a plane and flown away. Just like that. And had he begged her to stay? Had he told her he loved her? Had he thrown his body in front of the plane to stop it from taxiing down the runway?

  Hell, no.

  He’d done everything but plant his foot in her ass as she walked out the door, and now he couldn’t shake the sickening feeling that he’d made the worst mistake of his life. At the time, he’d thought that a clean break was best. Now he felt like he’d cut off his right hand for no good reason.

  Still, he didn’t plan to spill his guts to this crowd.

  “There’s nothing to—” Hunter began.

  Mom snorted with disgust and waved him to silence. “Hunter found a wonderful girl,” she explained to Ethan. “We all loved her. Livia Blake—”

  Ethan goggled. “What? Livia?”

  “Sweetest girl in the world. Now they’ve had a falling-out and Livia left. God knows if we’ll ever see her again. And this one—” Mom jerked her thumb in Hunter’s general direction, apparently too irritated by his actions to look at him directly “—just let her go.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. Idiot.”

  Great. Now, on top of Livia leaving, Kendra falling into the depths of despair and his own broken heart to nurse, his own mother thought he was an idiot. It was shaping up to be quite a day, wasn’t it?

  Ethan clunked his mug on the counter and looked at Hunter with alarm. “Is that true?”

  Dad, now patting Willard’s hindquarters while the dog crunched loudly over his bowl, answered for him. “It’s true,” he said grimly.

  Okay. That was enough.

  “First of all,” Hunter said, raising a hand to stop this discussion before it got any further out of hand, “I can speak for myself. Second, my personal life isn’t up for discussion, so let’s just drop this—”

  “Yeah, but who knew you had a personal life since Annette died?” Ethan interjected. “I think that’s worth discussing. Livia, eh?” He tipped his head, giving the matter serious consideration. “She’s great. I actually think she’d be a good match for you. What happened?”

  “Did you just hear me say that I’m not discussing—”

  “I don’t know,” Mom answered, ignoring his statement. “Getting this one—” another thumb jerk in Hunter’s direction “—to talk is like getting blood from a stone.”

  The three of them gave him baleful stares. Hell, even the
dog paused in his chomping to nail him with a look that said, quite plainly, You dumbass, and the negative attention was more than he could take. He was sick to death here because Livia was gone and he’d sent her away, but even if he got her back, he didn’t see how it could work.

  He exploded. “Do I look happy? Why the hell are you blaming me? If any of you geniuses know how I can run a winery while Livia is flying all over the world, going to her little parties and whatnot, then I’d love to hear.”

  Both Mom and Ethan stared at him as though he’d begun babbling in pig Latin.

  “That girl doesn’t want to fly around and go to parties,” Mom said, aghast.

  “Yeah,” Ethan agreed. “She’s not a partier anymore. I’d have heard—L.A.’s a small town. And Rachel claims she’s phasing out the modeling. I’m not sure about that.”

  “That girl helped me with the dishes.” Mom ticked off her points on her fingers. “She asked for my beef stew recipe. She wanted to talk about how Kendra’s doing in school and she grilled me about what I do here at the winery. It’s as plain as the nose on my face that she’s got her mind on family and children. How much partying can a person do, anyway? I’m betting she’s got all that out of her system and now she’s ready to settle down. Too bad you let her go.”

  Stunned and deeply disturbed, Hunter planted his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. Could any of that be true? More unbearable was the possibility that it was all true and he was such an idiot that he’d never even discussed it with Livia.

  Mom was right about the sorry state of his mental prowess, wasn’t she? He was such a genius he’d never even asked Livia what she wanted or if she’d consider staying here with him. He’d been so afraid of her rejection that he’d preempted it with a rejection of his own.

  And then when he saw that tabloid photo last night…

  “I have a daughter to consider,” he reminded everyone.

  “Kendra and Livia love each other, boy,” Dad said. “Can’t you see that?”

  Yeah, he’d seen it. Maybe he hadn’t known what to make of it but he’d definitely seen it.

  The question was: What should he do now? He rubbed the top of his head, wishing he could make his brain work and kick out some sort of a plan, a solution, but he just couldn’t.

  “Oh, I get it,” Ethan said in that soft taunt that only brothers could manage. “He’s scared.”

  This accusation was, naturally, a red cape to a bull, and Hunter snapped his head up, ready to throw down in front of God, Mom and everybody.

  “I am not—”

  To his surprise, Ethan smiled, and it wasn’t a sneering smirk or anything like it. It was the understanding expression of a man who’d been there himself and knew what it felt like to walk in those shoes. “Let me tell you something, my brother. I didn’t want to fall in love. Trust me. I wanted to try all the women I could get my hands on—”

  “I’m not hearing this,” Mom said loudly.

  “But life’s short, you know? And if you’re lucky enough to find the right woman—actually, you’re lucky enough to find another right woman, aren’t you? You gonna throw that away? You think that’s what Annette would want? You don’t think she’d be glad to know that a great woman was taking care of her little girl?”

  Shit. That actually made sense. A whole lot of freaking sense. Why hadn’t he seen it that way last night? What was wrong with him?

  Mom gave him a pitying look. She could probably detect that his overwhelmed circuits were about to melt down and wanted to give him a reprieve to gather his thoughts.

  “Let’s give the boy a minute,” she told the others. “He needs to—”

  Purposeful rubberized footsteps came into the kitchen just then, and they all glanced around in time to see Kendra arrive, looking grim and determined.

  Oh, Lord. What now?

  She wore her little pink Windbreaker and carried that same square suitcase from the other week. Willard’s leash was in her other hand and she wasted no time clipping it onto the dog’s collar.

  “Ah, Kendra?” Hunter asked, not at all sure he wanted to know. “What’re you doing?”

  “I’m running away. Can you take me and Willard to the airport right now?”

  Inside his chest, his heart began to pound. With fear, yeah, and with trepidation because he’d dug himself a pretty big hole with Livia last night, but mostly with hope. “Why, sweetie?”

  “We want to go to Mexico and bring Livia back,” Kendra informed him.

  “Why?” he asked again.

  “Because Willard and I want her to be our new mommy.”

  Chapter 15

  There she was. Finally. Thank goodness.

  Relief overwhelmed Hunter, roaring through him like an avalanche down a mountainside. He was lucky it didn’t knock him flat on his butt.

  After prying Livia’s itinerary and trip details out of Rachel—who didn’t seem too keen on him, to tell the truth—he’d scrounged up his passport, thrown a few clothes in his overnight bag and caught the next available flight south, which wasn’t until late that night. There’d been no delays, praise be to God, because in his current state of high agitation and extreme nervousness, he’d probably have flipped out and run afoul of the flight attendants if the captain had reported mechanical trouble or cloudy skies.

  He’d landed, taken a cab to the swanky hotel where Livia was staying and decided to wait, just a little while longer, and take the time to decompress and gather his thoughts so he didn’t blow it again—which, given his unfortunate record when it came to communicating with Livia, was a distinct possibility.

  Now here he was, on a white beach in front of a startling backdrop of sparkling aquamarine water beneath a sky of piercing blue, and there she was, doing her job, not fifty feet away.

  He wasn’t the only avid onlooker, which shouldn’t have surprised him but did. Standing on the periphery in a crowd of about fifty people, he watched the photo shoot, which was quite the production. A photographer and a videographer both stood barefoot in the lapping surf, getting their shots and murmuring words of encouragement. Miscellaneous other people surrounded them—probably makeup people and stylists and the like.

  In the center of it all, like a statue of a goddess on a dais, was Livia.

  Her hair was wild and blowing free, and her skin had already acquired a tropical glow that it hadn’t had in Napa. Draped over an outcropping of black rock, posing for the camera with utmost concentration—smiling…pouting…seducing—she wore a red bikini that he’d be wet-dreaming about for the rest of his life.

  She was a glittering jewel. A siren. A dream.

  But then the clouds shifted, the photographer said, “That’s it. We’ve lost the light,” and she took off her supermodel’s mask as though she’d unzipped her dress, stepped out of it and hung it in the closet.

  The sultry expression left her face and she was, suddenly, just Livia, the woman he loved. But the light was gone from her eyes and her shoulders drooped. She was lost and forlorn but struggling to do her best, and he was to blame.

  He’d made her sad but, with God’s help, he’d spend the rest of his life making her happy.

  Hit with a sudden inspiration, he blended into the crowd surging forward for her autograph and waited for his chance.

  *

  “Livia! This way, Livia! Sign this!”

  One of the stylists passed her a tie-dyed sarong and Livia made a dress out of it, wrapping it underneath her arms and tying it in the front. Then she plastered that damn smile—each fake smile these days felt like it was taking twenty years off her life, no joke—back on her face, waved at the people who’d come to watch the shoot and wandered over to sign a few autographs and pose for a few quick camera-phone shots. Exhaustion and growing nausea (this baby was really starting to make himself known, the little stinker) were no reasons to ignore her fans and act like a diva.

  “Hi, guys,” she said, accepting markers and scrawling her name on whatever surfa
ce was thrust her way, which included T-shirts, iPods, scraps of paper and, notably, the bare shoulder blade of a scrawny teenage American boy who swore he’d never shower again. “Are you enjoying Mexico? Yeah? Que pasa?”

  It went on. And on.

  “Sign this, Livia.”

  Another hand thrust forward, passing her a folded cocktail napkin from the hotel. Raising her pen, she started to sign it, but there was already huge block writing on it: “Marry me.”

  Ah, geez. Another marriage proposal from a starstruck, hormone-poisoned fan. What photo shoot would be complete without at least one man begging her to marry him? At least he hadn’t asked for her bikini bottoms or anything. She looked up, ready to let the guy down easily and call for one of the bodyguards if necessary—

  “Oh, God,” she cried, clapping her hand over her mouth to choke back the sob before it erupted.

  It was Hunter.

  Hunter.

  With a cry, she threw herself into the crowd and at him, possibly knocking several people to the sand in her enthusiasm; she didn’t know and didn’t care. Then his arms were closing around her, holding her too tight, hurting her, and she could only laugh and cry as he rained kisses all over her face, all but choking on her emotion.

  “You came, Hunter. I can’t believe it. You’re here.”

  “Where can we talk?” he whispered urgently in her ear.

  “Over here.”

  Taking his hand and ignoring the disgruntled murmurs of the last couple of fans, she towed him to the other side of a folding screen beneath a huge palm frond umbrella. This was where she’d changed and it wasn’t exactly a private room, but it would do for now. The second the crowd was out of view, he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her, which was no easy job since they were both crying.

  “I’m sorry.” Pulling back at last, he swiped at his eyes and tried to get control. “I’ve got some begging to do.”

  “You sure do,” she said, doing her best to look furious through her face-splitting smile. “What have you got to say for yourself?”